“Oh…” I hesitated. “And your mother?”

The air instantly grew tense. Viktor’s jaw clenched, and his grip on the coffee cup tightened. Even Max stopped chewing, his casual demeanor dropping. An uncomfortable silence stretched between us, and I immediately regretted asking.

Max spoke up. “She passed away… a long time ago.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling like an idiot. Why did I have to bring that up?

Max tried to lighten the mood with a forced grin. “Yeah, she was… amazing. A real fighter. You would’ve liked her.”

Viktor’s icy voice cut through the room. “Enough, Max.”

Max swallowed and looked down at his plate, muttering, “Sorry.”

My heart sank at how Viktor’s face hardened, his entire demeanor shifting to something darker. I could see the pain flicker in his eyes before he hid it behind that cold mask. I didn’t know what to say, how to comfort him, and I hated that I made him feel that way.

Just as I opened my mouth to apologize, Viktor abruptly stood up, pushing his chair back. “I’m going out,” he muttered without looking at either of us.

He strode out of the dining room, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders were tense—like he was carrying something too heavy for one person to bear.

Max let out a heavy sigh once Viktor was gone.

“What happened to her?” I asked cautiously.

Max hesitated, his eyes filled with guilt. “She was murdered. One of the rival families attacked when Viktor and Elena & I were teenagers. It was brutal… and it changed him. Made him colder. Crueler.”

My heart ached for Viktor, and I couldn’t imagine what kind of pain he must have gone through. Losing a mother like that… it explained so much about why he was so guarded and ruthless.

I didn’t know why, but I suddenly wanted to find him, to tell him I was sorry—even if he wouldn’t listen.

Max gave me a small, sad smile while running his hand through his hair, clearly still bothered. “He rarely talks about his mom. Losing her messed him up bad. He doesn’t talk about it. Ever. So… don’t push him.”

I nodded slowly, feeling a lump in my throat. How much pain was hidden behind those icy eyes? And why did it bother me so much to see him like that? I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. I couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a mother, especially the way Viktor had. Just thinking about it made my heart ache for him.

After a while, Max left, and I busied myself around the mansion, trying to distract my thoughts. I kept telling myself that Viktor just needed time to cool off. But as the hours passed and evening crept in, he still hadn’t returned. Worry gnawed at me, making it impossible to relax.

It was well past midnight when I heard the heavy sound of footsteps at the entrance. I rushed to the foyer and froze at the sight before me.

Viktor stumbled inside, clearly drunk, his shirt partially unbuttoned, his hair a mess.

His usually sharp eyes were  half lidded, unable to take a step without support and he looked utterly disheveled. I had never seen him like this.

He noticed me standing there and gave me a lazy smile. “My Printsessa...” he slurred, stumbling forward.

I instinctively reached out to steady him, wrapping my arms around his waist before he could topple over, he’s heavy, too heavy for me, that much heavy that I too stumbled with him but somehow managed to make ourselves stable. “Viktor, what—”

He cut me off by cupping my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he pouted like a child. “Missed you,” he mumbled, his voice almost a whisper. “You taste... like chocolate... strawberry... hmmm...”

My cheeks heated up, and I tried to steady both my heart and him. “You’re drunk.”

He blinked slowly, leaning in closer, his forehead pressing against mine. “Mama used to... make strawberry cake. I liked it... but she’s gone.” His pout deepened, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “She’s never coming back.”

My heart squeezed painfully, and I gently stroked his cheek. “I know... I’m sorry.”

He sniffed, suddenly looking more vulnerable than I had ever seen him. “It’s not fair... she was so kind... and warm... like you.”

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and guided him slowly up the stairs. He stumbled a bit, but I managed to keep him upright. I finally managed to drag his heavy, drunken self upstairs towards the bedroom. He was leaning on me like a dead weight, mumbling incoherent things under his breath.

Once inside the bedroom, I helped him sit on the edge of the bed, his weight heavy and limbs clumsy like a tired child. When he looked up at me, his stormy blue eyes were glassy with emotions too old for his young face.  “Why did they take her?” he whispered, his voice broken.

I didn’t have an answer, so I just knelt in front of him and held his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m here,” I whispered softly. “You’re not alone.”

He looked at me like he didn’t believe it. Then, before I knew it, he tugged me closer and buried his face in my shoulder, his arms wrapping around me tightly. I froze for a moment, but then relaxed into his embrace, gently rubbing his back.

After a while, he pulled back and gave me another childish pout, his lips brushing against my cheek. “Kiss?” he asked with a pleading look, his brows drawn together like a confused puppy.

My face flushed scarlet. “You’re too drunk to know what you’re saying.”

He shook his head stubbornly, almost losing his balance. “You taste good... wanna kiss...”

I managed to push him gently onto the bed and made him lie down. “You need sleep, not kisses.”

He groaned dramatically like a spoiled child and tried to reach for me, but I tucked him in and sat beside him. He shot up suddenly and sat there, looking at me with those hazy eyes.

"Kiss me," he demanded, his voice slightly slurred but determined.

I let out an exasperated sigh. "No, Viktor. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying."

He pouted—a full on childish pout and crossed his arms over his chest. "I’m not drunk," he insisted, swaying a little. "And I do know. You taste like... chocolate... strawberry... sweet... mine."

My cheeks flushed at his rambling, but I kept my composure. "Viktor, just lie down and sleep. We’ll talk in the morning."

He frowned like a stubborn child, his lips pressing into a thin line. "No sleep. Not without my kiss. I want a kiss Printsessa. I wanna kiss you Printsessa, Not until you give me a kiss, kiss, kiss, kiiiisssss…” he started throwing pillows here and there.

I could feel my irritation building. This was getting ridiculous. "Viktor!" I snapped, my patience snapping. "You’re acting like a spoiled brat! Just go to sleep already!"

He halted, His face fell instantly, and his eyes widened, looking almost... hurt. He bit his lower lip, trying to hold back whatever emotion was threatening to spill. His hands gripped the bedsheet tightly, knuckles white, and I instantly regretted raising my voice.

The sudden guilt crashed over me like a wave, and I moved my hand reaching out to touch his hand. "Viktor... I didn’t mean to yell at you," I whispered softly, trying to meet his gaze. But he wouldn’t look at me—his eyes were fixed somewhere over my shoulder, his expression hardening as if he was forcing his feelings back.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and squeezed his hand gently. "Hey... I’m sorry," I murmured, moving closer. "I didn’t mean to make you feel bad."

He finally looked at me, and I could see the moisture gathering in his eyes—he was trying so hard not to break. My heart squeezed painfully. This wasn’t the ruthless, commanding Viktor Schwarz—the mafia king everyone knew. This was a boy who had lost his mother too young—a boy who had learned to hide his pain behind a wall of steel and indifference.

Without thinking, I reached up and cupped his cheek, brushing my thumb gently against his skin. He leaned into my touch, his eyes finally closing as he let out a shuddering breath. "I miss her," he whispered, his voice breaking. "So much... and no one ever talks about her. No one remembers. Just me."

I felt my eyes sting with unshed tears, and I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "You don’t have to hold it in, Viktor," I whispered against his skin. "You can let it out. I’m here. I’ll talk about her with you "

His arms wrapped around me suddenly, pulling me into his lap as he buried his face in my shoulder. His shoulders trembled, and I just held him tightly, running my fingers through his hair soothingly. He wasn’t sobbing, he didn’t make a sound but I could feel his pain in the way he clung to me, as if afraid I would disappear too.

I kept whispering reassurances in his ear as I pressed a kiss to his temple softly. Slowly, his breathing calmed, and I felt him relax in my arms, his grip loosening. He shifted his head, nuzzling against my neck like a needy cat, his hot breath tickling my skin and I couldn’t help but smile through my own tears.

"Still want your kiss?" I asked gently, trying to lighten the mood.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his face still flushed but more composed. He gave a tiny nod, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips against his—soft and slow, letting him feel that he wasn’t alone—the sharp, bitter scent of alcohol filled my senses. I could taste it faintly on his lips when he brushed them against mine—a strong, burning bitterness mixed with something uniquely him.

My hands rested on his shoulders, trying to maintain some distance, but his grip was relentless. He responded immediately, melting into the kiss with a relieved hum, like it was something he desperately needed.

“Sweet... so sweet. I love… kissing you… Printsessa” he mumbled between the kisses. His hands slid down my waist and settled on my hips before one of them moved up, cupping my breast through the fabric of my saree gently squeezing it. My breath hitched and my cheeks burned with a mix of shock and embarrassment.

“Stop it!” I hissed, pushing his chest to put some space between us. “You’re drunk and acting like an idiot.”

“You’re mean,” he grumbled, his voice low and almost vulnerable. “Don’t like it when you’re mad at me.”

I let out a sharp breath, trying to keep my frustration in check. “Viktor, go to sleep. We can talk when you’re sober.”

His eyes glimmered with something I couldn’t quite place—pain, maybe. He pulled away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Everyone leaves me,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “First Mom... then Dad...then elena moved out too… now you’re pushing me away too.”

The guilt hit me like a punch to the gut. My anger melted away, replaced by an ache in my chest. I cupped his face gently, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were glassy, and I could see that he was holding back tears, stubbornly refusing to let them fall.

“Hey... I’m not leaving you,” I murmured softly, brushing my thumb over his cheek. “I’m right here.”

His shoulders slumped, and he leaned into my touch, closing his eyes. “Promise?”

“I promise,” I whispered, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. He relaxed against me.

I pulled back, his eyes were softer, less haunted. He gave me a small, almost shy smile—something so out of character that I couldn’t help but feel my heart race. I brushed his hair back from his forehead and whispered, "Now go to sleep, you big baby."

He grumbled something under his breath but finally let me guide him to lie down properly. As I pulled the blanket over him, he caught my wrist and mumbled, "Stay."

I nodded and lay beside him. He immediately wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close like he was afraid I’d vanish. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and I knew he was finally asleep.

I couldn’t help but stare at his peaceful face, brushing my fingers through his hair. The weight of his confession and the vulnerability he’d shown kept replaying in my mind, and I found myself wanting to protect that part of him—the boy who missed his mother and just wanted to feel safe. It was strange—seeing him so raw and broken.

The fierce, cold-hearted Viktor Schwarz was just a man—haunted by loss and the fear of being abandoned. And as I lay there with him, I couldn’t help but feel my heart ache for him in a way I hadn’t expected.

I sighed softly and snuggled closer, letting my eyes close as I whispered, "You’re not alone, Viktor. I’m here."   

****

This chapter was hard to write. Beneath Viktor’s steel mask is a boy who lost his mother, his warmth, his peace—and tonight, his control. Sometimes the strongest people are the ones carrying the heaviest pain in silence. Thank you for seeing his vulnerability. 💔

Hey my precious Schwarzlings,
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Love and chaos,
Shraddha.