I don’t sigh, but I want to. I’ve been avoiding her since the night of the shooting. The way she clung to me still makes me uncomfortable. I blamed it on shock, but that doesn’t make the wrongness go away.
She’s my sister-in-law. That means I have to take care of her. But it also means limits. Hard limits. Boundaries that must not be crossed.
She stops across from me and pours herself a cup. She’s dressed for the day already: dark skirt, silk blouse, every hair pinned into place. Always composed.
But she’s leaning too close again, and I don’t like it.
“I have work.” My tone is even, polite. “What do you need?”
“Just wanted to chat,” she says casually enough. “How’s fatherhood treating you?”
I’m tempted to smile, but I don’t. “Good.”
“Just good?”
“Lilia’s perfect. Things couldn’t be better.”
Kira raps her manicured nails against her cup. The happy curve of her lips feels forced. I’m not sure why I think that. Maybe being around so much joy lately has made me a keener observer. “And Sima?”
“What about her?”
Kira hesitates. “Have you noticed anything… off with her lately?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Off how?”
“Not sure.” She bites her lip. “She just seemed a little… jumpy to me. She’s always quiet when I visit the nursery. Like she can’t wait to see me out of the room.”
“She’s tired.” I try to suppress my irritation. “She probably just wants to rest.”
“Maybe.” Kira doesn’t look convinced. “I guess I’m just scared.”
“Scared?” My brow knits harder. “I don’t see what there is to be scared of. She’s a new mother with a baby.”
“Of course,” she says quickly. “I don’t mean I’m scaredofher. Just…” She exhales, like she can’t find the right words. “She’s tried to run in the past. And she’s got free rein now.” Her hand stretches across the counter and lands next to mine. “I just don’t want you to wake up one day and find out she’s gone. With your daughter. It would be?—”
“Impossible,” I interrupt.
My tone must be harsh, because she blinks, taken aback. “You think so?”
“I know so.” I keep my face still, but my jaw tightens. My grip on the mug turns white-knuckled before I force myself to let go. “She’d never do that.”
Kira frowns. “You sound sure.”
“I am.” I don’t raise my voice, but the edge in it is clear. “Things are different now.”
She shifts her weight, her nails brushing the counter. “People don’t change overnight, Petyr.”
Her words feed the rage already simmering inside me.
Kira doesn’t get it. Sima and I aren’t in the same place we were two months ago, when I dragged her back to a house she didn’t want to be in. We’ve talked, changed, evolved. Worked painstakingly on ourselves and each other to fix our messes.
I was a different man then. I couldn’t see how badly I was fucking up, not until Sima pointed it out to me. After that, I took a good look at myself and loathed the man staring back at me.
I vowed to change. To earn her forgiveness by any means necessary.
And Sima—she didn’t make me suffer for it.
She could have. She had every right to demand impossible things, make my life as miserable as I’d made hers, but she didn’t. All she ever wanted was my love and my respect.
