Monthly.
Sofia is drawing beside me at the weekend. Her drawings are mostly of cats. And as she colors in her latest picture, she gives me her daily rundown of the vegetable garden. She’s also always around to help with Queenie’s food and medicine.
There’s a steadiness in Sofia that she didn’t have when she first came here.
I recognize the pattern.
She’s anchoring.
From what Avelina told me, Geliy never really clicked with Sofia.Her questions, the way her brain works, the meltdowns. It was too difficult for Geliy to understand. That makes me a little sad—for both Sofia and Geliy.
“Can we see the shelter?” she asks.
I blink at the book I’m not really reading. She’s made it a point to ask every day since Dr. Rivers mentioned it. Sometimes she’s hyper-focused, rattling off every cat and dog name on the shelter’s website. Other times, she draws the shelter’s floor plans the way she thinks it’ll be set up. She’s also made a list of questions for the shelter’s staff and even color-coded them by importance.
My lips twitch into a small smile.
“She’s really excited,” Avelina says, leaning over the back of the couch.
“She’s planning,” I say.
“Planning means she thinks we’re going to take her.”
And we will. Just as soon as I’m no longer being watched like a child. As much as I try to protest that I’m fine, that I can walk and stand and do everything I did before, I’m stuck here and under orders to keep resting.
Avelina kisses my temple softly. “We’re going to head to the garden. If you want to come?”
“Am I allowed?”
Her nose scrunches. “Yeah, c’mon. It’s been a while. The sun will do us all some good.”
Walking slowly, Albert and Queenie scamper at our side. After a few seconds, I pick Queenie up and let her snuggle into my arms. I don’t want her overdoing things.
When we reach the vegetable garden, I sink onto the bench. Sofia tends to the weeds near the green beans while Avelina guides Leon’s teetering steps around the planter boxes. I relax. I watch. And I answer Sofia’s questions as they come in waves.
The sun is comfortably warm.
The vibration in my pocket pulls my gaze from Avelina’s soft smile—the one that still makes my heart pound much too fast.
It’s Matvey. I don’t hesitate to answer.
“Geliy’s dead.” That’s all he says. No hello. No ceremony. No emotion. Just that one fact.
“When? Where?” My words come out in a rush.
“Zurich. Some kind of extraction gone wrong. Took a bullet through the neck. Nearly painless death.”
“Was he alone?” I ask, absorbing the weight of it. Geliy and I weren’t friends as such. We knew each other through the military. And I know these things happen in our line of work, but how will Avelina and the kids take the news?
“No. A few of the others got out.”
I scrub my jaw. “Thanks.”
The call ends. And I sit there, staring at my phone.
“Viktor? Everything okay?”
I lift my gaze. “Yeah… I mean, no.”
