I glance down at Lilia. She’s still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the heavy air around her. Of the guilt that follows us through our blood.
I wonder if it always will. If it’ll stay with us until every single person the Danilos hurt is no longer alive to remember it. Or maybe even beyond that.
I hate the thought that Lilia will have to carry this too, one day. Things her grandfather did shouldn’t affect something so pure.
I don’t want that for her. She’s innocent of everything, and I’ll keep it that way. Whatever it takes.
Which means I’m going to have to shoulder the blame myself.
It’s the least Luka deserves. Someone to carry his pain for him, even if that someone is not the one who hurt him.
Maybe, then, we can all begin to heal.
“My father… he was a bad person,” I say softly. “He liked hurting people. It wasn’t just business for him. He wanted people to suffer. I hate that he took your family from you.”
Luka shakes his head. “You don’t need to apologize for what he did. You were a kid. So was I. Neither of us had any control over what they did to each other.”
I nod, but my eyes sting. “I still wish it hadn’t happened.”
“Me, too.” He lets out a small breath, and some of the tension between us finally eases. “But I see who you are now. You’re not him. You’re a kind person, Sima. And if you still mean that, about us being friends… then I’d like that.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’d like that, too.”
Silence fills the room. But this time, it isn’t the cold silence of the mansion. It’s a silence filled with warmth. A new beginning.
For all of us.
“You should rest,” Luka says with a touch of my shoulder. “You’ve earned it.”
“You, too.” I give him a faint smile. “Sorry for all the nightmare fuel.”
“It’s okay. That’s what sleeping pills are for.”
We share a laugh. Then he turns to leave and pauses at the door. “She really is perfect, Sima.”
“Yeah,” I whisper with a glance down at Lilia. “She is.”
37
PETYR
A day later, the doctor clears them both. Sima and the baby are healthy. No complications. No reason to stay another night.
“Thank you, Dr. Agar.”
“Just doing my job.” She gives Sima and Lilia a radiant smile. “I’ll see you in a week for your check-up and the appointment with the pediatrician, okay?”
“Of course.” Sima grins. “I’d never keep you from your favorite patient.” She’s talking about Lilia, but I suspect Sima has gotten on the doctor’s soft side, too.
It’s hard not to love her.
Hardest thing in the world, really.
I sign the discharge papers while Sima finishes packing. She folds each blanket and every tiny outfit, as painstakingly as she can. She’s so focused that I almost don’t want to distract her.
Lilia sleeps in the bassinet beside the bed, her little fists tucked against her cheeks.
I ought to feel nothing but relief. They’re both alive, as safe as can be. But the hospital walls are thin, and I can’t stop thinking about getting them home. Home, where I control who comes in and who doesn’t. Where the security is mine. Where no one can touch them.
