I can’t help but melt a little. Even after a year-and-a-half, I’m still getting used to the fact that I have a real family. I have a husband who loves me, and a son we both adore. It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of.
Samuil crosses the room in a few long strides, bends down, and kisses me first. Always me first. It’s just a soft press of lips, a quiet hello that carries all the affection he has for me. I kiss him back, slow and familiar.
Nikolai begins to fuss dramatically, but it’s just for show. He can’t stand not being the center of attention. Samuil laughs and scoops him up effortlessly. “Hey,kartoshka,” he murmurs, kissing our son’s cheek. “Were you good for Mama today?”
Nikolai immediately grabs two fistfuls of Samuil’s shirt and squeals something unintelligible that Samuil pretends to understand completely.
“He says yes,” Samuil translates solemnly.
“Oh, does he?” I raise a brow. “Because what I heard was him explaining how he had two blowouts and fussed the whole time I tried to change him.”
“He’s our independent boy,” Samuil says with a straight face. “He’ll change his own diapers.”
“That would be the dream.” I laugh.
“Absolutely.”
He lowers himself to the floor beside me, leaning his shoulder into mine as he settles Nikolai in his lap. Our son immediately begins patting Samuil’s face, memorizing every line.
“Did you have a good day?” he asks me without looking away from the baby.
I take a slow breath. “It was good,” I say honestly. “Exhausting, but good.”
Teaching again still feels surreal. It’s only been a week, and it was so hard being away from Nikolai for so many hours. Still, I loved interacting with my fifth graders and providing for all their needs. Being back in that environment feels right, like reclaiming a piece of myself I wasn’t sure survived the chaos of last year.
“How was the adjustment?” Samuil asks. “Be honest.”
I pick at the hem of my sweater. “It was harder than I expected,” I admit. “I miss Nikolai all day long, but I love being with my class. They’re such good kids.”
Samuil’s arm slips around my waist, anchoring me gently.
“I forgot how good it feels to make a difference. To see kids respond to structure and kindness. To show them the world can be safe.”
Samuil bends his head slightly, his breath brushing my temple. “I’m proud of you,” he murmurs into my hair. “Those kids are so lucky to have you as their teacher.”
The words sink into me slowly and warmly. They wrap around me like a cozy blanket, making me feel safe and loved.
“And I’m glad,” he adds quietly, “that you chose something for yourself.”
“I am too,” I whisper.
Nikolai, apparently sensing this moment might be too quiet, slaps Samuil’s cheek with his tiny palm and squeals triumphantly.
“He’s strong,” Samuil says, eyes wide in mock seriousness. “Very strong. He’ll outrun us both by the time he’s five.”
“Speak for yourself.”
He smirks at me. “Molly, you tripped over a stuffed giraffe this morning.”
“It was a tactical misstep.”
“It squeaked when you fell.”
“It surprised me!”
Nikolai giggles at our bickering, grabbing Samuil’s nose and then my hair as if trying to participate in the conversation.
Samuil carefully pries his fingers free.
