I wander around a few rooms until I find Sofia curled up in the rec room, a weighted blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Avelina sits beside her, holding her hand gently. Leon is napping on the other sofa, his soft curls falling across his forehead and his cheeks pink with sleep. Avelina looks up when I walk in, a question in her eyes. I only told her that I needed to go out on an errand, and I didn’t explain what I had in mind.
I hold the bag up.
Sofia’s gaze flickers, curious but wary.
I approach slowly, silently trying to gauge if she’s too overstimulated for this. Especially because the stuffed toy will be something new. She seems okay for now. I kneel beside her and set the bag down. “Sofia?” I start quietly, not talking too loudly. “I know it’s not the same, but I thought maybe for now…this could help?”
Slowly, I extend the bag to her. She looks at me, then at the bag. I need her to feel in control, so I leave it up to her whether she wants to take the bag and see what’s inside.
Hesitantly, she takes it.
Peeling back the tissue paper like it might bite her, her little nose wrinkles a little, just like her mom does when she’s not sure of something.
And when she pulls out the plush cat, her breath catches.
I’m holding my breath without even realizing it.
Slowly, her fingers run through the fur. Then trace the soft nose. Careful. Tentative.
“It’s soft,” she whispers. “Like Queenie.”
I smile just a little. “I know it’s not the same, but maybe this cat can keep your lap warm while Queenie’s getting better at the vet’s.”
Tears spring to her eyes.
I inhale sharply. I’ve done something wrong.Shit, shit, shit!
My eyes dart to Avelina.
But Avelina has a soft smile on her face.
My gaze swings back to Sofia.
And the little girl throws her arms around my neck, hugging me awkwardly but tightly.
I freeze. I’m stunned. Because I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.
Carefully, so carefully, I wrap my arms around her. Holding her tight like Avelina did that time in my office. A big, tight embrace. One that will soothe and comfort Sofia.
I can feel the little girl’s tears soak through my shirt. And I hold her closer.
Sofia’s breathing evens out against my shoulder, and the weight of the day presses into me. I’m at a solid six right now. But I can do this—because it’s helping Sofia. And something about doing that soothes me inside.
When I finally ease her back onto the sofa, she pulls the stuffed cat onto her lap, clutching it tight. Her fingers bury into its fur and stroke it again and again. Gently, I wrap the weighted blanket around her again as she lies her head on the armrest of the sofa. Her eyes flutter shut, already drifting as she relaxes a little. It’s going to take time, and nothing is an instant fix.
My hand hovers over her for a moment. The urge to brush the stray hair from her forehead is there, but I don’t give in because I know it’s a coin toss on whether the gesture is received well.
“She’ll sleep for a bit,” Avelina murmurs. “Sit with me?”
Part of me wants to pace the room, to pull up security feeds and check every lock in the house to ease the worry because there’s still athreat out there. But the other part? It craves the quiet with her. Needs it. So, I sit. She tucks her legs beneath her and leans into my side slightly as if it’s a normal thing we do. Like she belongs here. Like I belong in this picture too.
“You’re good with her and Leon,” she says softly.
A shake of my head follows a humorless laugh that slips out. “I’m not. I have no idea how to handle kids. I just…understand her a little.”
“You bought her a stuffed cat, Viktor.” She looks up at me from where her head rests on my shoulder. “You showed up in a way she didn’t get often from her dad. That counts. Geliy never knew how to deal with her anxiety, and he would just avoid her when she was like this.”
I’m not used to being praised like this—for showing some human decency or being able to spot someone in distress in a way I recognize and relate to.
