"Anna," Yekaterina parked before a beautiful detached house. "I know you're proud. I know you hate owing favors. But Sofia is my goddaughter. I have both the right and obligation to care for her. This isn't charity—it's my responsibility. Understand?"
I bit my lip as tears fell.
"Moreover," she added, "it's a rental—one-year lease. Once your job stabilizes, you can relocate if desired. But this year, Sofia lives here and attends that school. You owe me that much. You owe Sofia that much."
I inhaled deeply and nodded. "Alright."
"Good." Yekaterina smiled. "Now let's go see your new home."
I gently woke Sofia. The little girl rubbed her eyes, stepped out, saw the house, and immediately brightened.
"Wow!" Her eyes widened. "Is this our new home?"
"Yes, sweetheart." I knelt down. "Godmother found this house for you."
Sofia turned and hugged Yekaterina's legs. "Thank you, Godmother! You really are a fairy godmother!"
Yekaterina smiled, stroking her hair. "As long as my little goddaughter is happy. Let's explore inside."
The house featured simple yet warm décor—three bedrooms, aspacious living room, and a small study. The kitchen came fully equipped, completely move-in ready.
Sofia buzzed around like an excited bird.
"Mommy, can this be my room?"
"Mommy, there's a bathtub!"
"Mommy, the window shows the garden!"
Watching her joy filled me with both comfort and heartache.
These five years, we'd lived in cramped rentals. Sometimes, to save money, I'd choose basement apartments—damp, dark, walls crawling with mold. Sofia never complained, always understanding, but I knew she envied kindergarten classmates with spacious homes.
"By the way," Yekaterina said, "I fly to Paris tomorrow for fashion week. Gone about a week. Get settled, call if you need anything."
"Another business trip?"
"Yeah." She shrugged. "But I'll bring Sofia a present."
"Godmother's the best!" Sofia ran over for another hug.
Evening arrived, and Yekaterina departed. Sofia and I sorted our meager belongings from Manhattan in the yard.
Sofia chased butterflies while her red hair caught the sunset. I stood in the doorway watching, unconsciously smiling.
Moments like these made five years of struggle worthwhile.
Suddenly, the neighboring house's gate opened.
I glanced over casually—just a quick look.
Then the world froze.
The man emerging wore charcoal gray, black hair lifting in the breeze.
That silhouette. That bearing. That presence that seemed to still the very air.
Impossible.
