She gently poked my chest, completely serious. "From that day on, I, Yekaterina Ivanova, swore I'd be your friend for life. Not just any friend—the kind who'll always be on your side, who'll take a bullet for you, who'll be your backup forever. So now it's my turn to protect you and Sofia. Don't you dare say 'thank you' to me again. We had a deal!"
Her words carried the weight of youth and years of friendship, like the warmest flood breaking through my last defenses. I couldn't hold back anymore. I reached out and huggedher tight.
"I hear you..." I sobbed into her shoulder. "Katya, we're friends for life."
For the next two days, we hid in Yekaterina's apartment like ostriches. During the day, I forced myself to be cheerful, playing puzzles with Sofia, watching cartoons, telling her we were having a "super secret sleepover party" with her godmother.
Sofia was easily distracted by the novelty, but sometimes she'd stop playing and look up with those big eyes. "Mommy, when are we going home? I miss Alex."
Every time she asked, it felt like a dull knife sawing at my heart.
Yekaterina went all out to keep Sofia entertained. She folded paper airplanes that flew around the apartment; taught Sofia simple French words like "Bonjour" and "Merci," turning lessons into games; and turned harmless stories from her time in Paris into fairy tales that made Sofia giggle.
"Yekaterina," Sofia asked one day with innocent curiosity, "why don't you have your own baby?"
Yekaterina paused while pouring juice, then turned with a warm but slightly wistful smile. "Because I'm still waiting for someone really worth it to come along. Just like your mommy once met someone she thought was worth it." She gave me a meaningful look.
That phrase "worth it" stung like a thorn. Had I met someone worth it? I thought I had, but now everything seemed so blurry and ridiculous.
But I didn't have time to wallow in self-pity. Logic told me Alexander wouldn't just let us disappear—with his resources and methods, finding us was only a matter of time. And there was still the threat from that unknown enemy. I had to figure out our next move fast.
Yekaterina suggested contacting her cousin in Canada—far away and relatively safe. But I worried about being more exposed crossing borders, the paperwork complications, and dragging even more innocent people into danger.
"At least stay here a few more days," Yekaterina said, seeing myhesitation. "See how things play out, then make a plan. Don't worry, this place is rock solid."
But that night, disaster struck. Sofia developed a low fever, her little face flushed red, forehead burning hot, curled up on the couch whimpering.
"Mommy, it hurts. I want Alex..." she cried softly. "His stories make it not hurt..."
Her fever and her dependent murmurs shattered my heart. I took her temperature—100.5 degrees. Not too high, but a five-year-old needed medicine.
Yekaterina searched the entire medicine cabinet and only found adult fever reducers. "There's a 24-hour pharmacy two blocks away. I'll get children's medicine!" She reached for her coat.
"No," I stopped her. "I can't let you take that risk. If someone's found us... it's too dangerous!"
"Then you definitely can't go out," she argued. "Your picture could be everywhere by now."
I looked at her, torn between conflicting instincts. Finally, maternal responsibility won out over fear. Sofia was my daughter, protecting her was my first priority, and I couldn't let Katya risk herself for us.
"I'm going." I stood up, voice absolutely firm. "I know the risks, but I have to. Take care of Sofia."
I changed into Yekaterina's tracksuit—something I'd never buy for myself—put on her baseball cap and black-rimmed glasses she wore to look cool, trying to alter my appearance as much as possible.
"The nearest pharmacy is just two blocks away," Yekaterina gave me worried directions. "Stay on main streets, well-lit areas. Don't take shortcuts through alleys! Get the medicine and come straight back! If anything feels wrong, run toward crowds or call the police!"
"I know," I nodded, taking a deep breath like I was psyching myself up. "I'll be careful."
The night streets were empty and quiet, only occasional headlights cutting through the darkness. I pulled my cap low and walked quickly, trying to look like any ordinary late-night resident. But atevery intersection, I found myself looking over my shoulder, watching every shadow.
After two blocks, something felt wrong. There seemed to be footsteps behind me—when I stopped, they stopped; when I sped up, they matched my pace.
My heart began racing, cold sweat soaking through my clothes. Was I being paranoid? Or... was I really being followed?
I forced myself to stay calm, eyes locked on the green cross neon sign of the pharmacy ahead. One more block. Almost there.
I practically ran into the pharmacy. The bright white light and steady hum of air conditioning gave me a temporary illusion of safety. I rushed to the children's medicine section, grabbed fever reducer, and picked up some cold medicine and Band-Aids before hurrying to the register.
The cashier was a young girl who seemed to stare at me while scanning items. Was my weird late-night getup that obvious? I kept my head down, avoiding her gaze, heart pounding.
