Not by me.
Never by me.
I pulled him closer and tucked his head beneath my chin, pressing my cheek to his hair. “I know, baby,” I whispered. “I know.”
He went still, breathing softly against my collarbone. His small body rose and fell, syncing slowly with mine. The room felt suspended—quiet, warm, fragile.
Then, after a long silence, his voice came again. Smaller. Almost afraid.
“Will... will you be... my new mom?”
The question landed gently.
And crushed me all the same.
Like a stone dropped into still water—ripples spreading outward, touching everything I was, everything I wasn’t, everything I could never be.
I swallowed past the ache in my throat, the soreness flaring as if my body wanted to remind me that promises were dangerous things.
“I can try,” I said softly. My voice cracked just a little—enough to betray how much the words mattered. “I can try very hard.”
Yannis nodded against me, small hands clutching the fabric of my shirt as though anchoring himself to the promise.
His fingers curled and uncurled, testing that I was real, that I wasn’t another dream that would dissolve when he woke up.
I kept rocking him, slow and steady, letting silence do what words couldn’t. After a moment, I began to hum—low, almost imperceptible. The melody came without thought, pulled from some deep, unbroken place inside me. My mother’s lullaby. She’d never used words either. Just sound. Just comfort.
My fingers moved in lazy circles over his back, the same rhythm she’d used when I woke screaming from nightmares as a child. I pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his headand breathed him in—the clean, soapy scent of his shampoo, something citrusy and warm. Alive. Innocent.
For a few precious minutes, the world narrowed to just this: a child held safely, a body no longer freezing, a heartbeat that wasn’t racing toward death.
After a while, he shifted.
He lifted his head, eyes brighter now, the fear eased back just enough to let hope peek through.
Can you take me to school today? he signed.
I blinked. “Take you?”
He nodded eagerly, hands moving with more confidence now.Yes... follow me. Dad’s driver always drives me, but I want you in the car with me. And when we get to school, I want you to walk beside me so my friends can see my new mom.
My chest tightened in a way that hurt and healed at the same time.
He wanted to show me off.
The irony was sharp enough to sting. Less than twelve hours ago, his father had been standing over open graves, deciding whether I deserved to live. And now his son wanted me beside him in daylight, in front of teachers and classmates and parents who lived in a safer world.
“If your dad allows it,” I said carefully, choosing each word like a step across thin ice, “I’ll go with you.”
His face lit up—small, shy, radiant.Okay. I’ll tell him. He’ll agree.
Then, quieter, almost like a fact of nature:
He’ll do anything for me.
I nodded slowly. That much was undeniable. I’d seen the way Ruslan looked at Yannis—like the boy was the last remaining thread tying him to humanity. The one thing he wouldn’t burn, no matter how far he fell.
Yannis stayed curled against me a little longer, his breathing evening out, body growing heavy and warm.
