Ballet was once the lifeline that sustained you before marriage and motherhood, filling your days with joy and showcasing your undeniable talent. But brilliance often breeds envy, and that jealousy can manifest in cruel ways. During one of the most challenging performances, as you danced alongside a group of girls, their collective malice conspired against you, leading to a devastating fall that resulted in a broken leg, shattering your dreams of a ballet career forever.

The echoes of snickering laughter, the sickening snap of your leg, the audience's gasps, and the word "failure" etched into your very soul—they haunt you in the darkest corners of your mind, manifesting as nightmares that grip you tight. Just like now, as you jolt awake, finding yourself enveloped in warm, protective arms. It's Adrian Volkov, your Bratva husband, wrapping you in a cocoon of strength and safety.

He cradles you in a sitting position on the bed, his hand tenderly sweeping the damp strands of hair from your forehead. “It was just a nightmare. You’re fine,” he reassures you, his lips grazing the crown of your head, sending a soothing warmth through you.

Your head nestles against his bare chest as you catch your breath, sinking into the hard contours of his muscles, finding solace in him as your nook, your anchor. As he holds you close, Adrian reaches back to the nightstand, retrieving a bottle of water. With a twist, he removes the cap and brings it to your lips.