Six months later.
Spring came back as if nothing had happened.
The Valois estate stood where the ashes used to be. It took six months of contractors, lawyers, and more of my father's "hidden" funds than I wanted to think about, but the stone was white again.
Some things don't burn out that easily.
In the sunroom downstairs, I could hear Adrien and Dmitri bickering at each other. Dmitri has started receiving physical therapy. Adrien was always there with him all the time. He'd claim he was there to tease him, but it was obvious he stayed for his friend.
Dmitri was drenched in sweat. He was shaking, his knuckles white as he forced his legs to take the weight.
For the past few days, there have been some improvements. He has been able to stand on his own. Adrien was leaning against the doorframe, looking bored, though I saw his hand twitch every time Dmitri stumbled.
"Your form is tragic, Volkov," Adrien drawled, flipping through a tablet. "My grandmother moves faster with a walker."
"Shut the hell up, Adrien," Dmitri grunted, his face turning a dark shade of red as he locked his knees.
"Make me. Oh wait, you can't reach me from there."
Dmitri let out a breath that was halfway to a growl.
"Again," the therapist said.
His legs shook, shaking violently as if his body was arguing with him.
"Again," he repeated under his breath.
He shifted his weight forward. One step. It barely counted, but it was something.
His jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack.
"Don't pass out," Adrien joked again from the corner, leaning against the wall like he had all day. "It's embarrassing for everyone involved."
Another step.
Adrien smirked. "That's the spirit. Really inspiring."
Dmitri's arms trembled now, taking most of the weight. His legs dragged behind like they didn't belong to him.
"Take a break," the therapist said.
"No."
"Dmitri—"
"I said no."
He forced another step. Then his arms gave out. The therapist caught him before he hit the ground, lowering him back into the chair.
Dmitri sat there, breathing hard, staring straight ahead. Adrien walked over, grabbed a towel, and tossed it at his chest. "You look like shit."
Dmitri wiped his face slowly. "You've said that already."
"Yeah, well. It's still true."
Adrien crossed his arms. "You stood longer today."
Dmitri didn't respond. But his grip tightened slightly on the towel.
I moved past them, heading toward the small practice room at the end of the hall.
It was so quiet and calm. Just exactly what I needed.
I stood by the window, the violin resting against my shoulder. The bow hovered for a second before it touched the strings.
I started to play. The sound wasn't perfect. It wasn't supposed to be. A little uneven in places. Real.
My fingers moved like they remembered something my mind didn't have to think about anymore.
For a second, it felt like breathing.
St. Aurelia — The Rededication
The Great Hall looked different without the Volkovs or the Schuyler's crests hanging from the rafters.
There was a Graduation ceremony happening. The new director was giving a speech. New board members are talking about "change" and "accountability" as if those words hadn't been missing for years.
Dmitri was in his chair, positioned between Adrien and me. He hated the chair more than anything. Always complaining it made him look pathetic. He kept a straight posture and wore an unreadable expression.
An older man approached us after the speeches. He reached out to shake Dmitri's hand, smiling at him. "Mr. Volkov, I wanted to personally thank you. Your family's... cooperation with the Interpol investigation was incredibly generous. It saved the school's reputation."
Dmitri looked at the hand. Then back at the man. "I didn't do it for the school," he said. "And I definitely didn't do it for you. Move."
The hand slowly dropped.
"Of course," the man said quickly, stepping back. "Of course."
I leaned over, bumping my shoulder against Dmitri's. "You're terrifying."
"That's the point, Isabelle," he muttered, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "If they stop being afraid, they start getting ideas. I'm doing them a favor."
Later in the day, we were alone for the first time all day. Dmitri stared at the water, his hands resting on the wheels of his chair.
"You're leaving," he said.
"I'm not leaving," I said, leaning against the stone basin. "I'm going to play. The Paris Conservatory offered me a spot."
"Same thing," he grunted. "Paris is three hours away."
"I haven't said yes yet," I admitted. "I'm not sure I want to go back into that world. The spotlight, the critics... I've had enough 'attention' to last a lifetime."
Dmitri looked up at me. His blue eyes were as sharp as they'd been the night I met him at the gala. "You're going."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're not the kind of person who stays small, Isabelle. You tried that. You hated it." He reached out, his hand steadier than it had been a month ago. "You don't hide your light because the world is dark. You turn it up so you can see the bastards coming."
We spent most of the afternoon at the fountain talking about our school days before going back to the estate. I suggested we go to the porch after dinner. I told him I wanted to watch the stars with him.
The stars were bright over the estate. The only sound was the wind in the trees and the distant hum of the city.
"What happens to us, Dmitri?" I asked. I was sitting on the steps, right next to his chair. "Everything is different now. No more wars. No more secrets."
"What do you want to happen?" he countered.
"I asked first."
He leaned forward, his face inches from mine. "I want to see how far you go. I want to be there when you actually build something beautiful instead of just trying to survive the wreckage."
I knelt on the wood of the porch, bringing my face level with his.
Dmitri's hand came up. He cupped my face in his hands. It shook, just a little, a tremor of effort and nerves, but his fingers found my cheek. His touch was warm and real.
"Then I want you to help me build it," I whispered.
He leaned in and kissed me, tasting like the night air and a future I finally wanted to see.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't hiding from someone. I wasn't running from a shadow or fighting for a breath of air. I was exactly where I was supposed to be. And I played like the world was listening, because for the first time, I finally had something to say.
The End.