“Papa Ruslan!”
She screams his name like it’s a celebration.
She launches herself into his arms without hesitation.
And he always catches her.
Every time.
No matter what he’s carrying.
He spins her around gently while she shrieks with delight.
Then he presses kisses to her forehead.
“My brave girl.”
“My light.”
We named her Daphne after long nights of discussion.
Sitting together in bed.
Arguing softly.
Reconsidering.
Laughing at our own sentimentality.
We both agreed the name felt like sunlight on water.
Laurel tree.
Victory.
Resilience.
A symbol of survival.
Everything I wanted her to embody.
Yannis had transformed too.
After years of confusion and emotional distance caused by our separation, he had initially struggled academically.
He had fallen behind.
His grades had dipped.
His confidence had suffered.
But when I returned fully into his life — when stability replaced chaos — something unlocked inside him.
He soared.
He buried himself in books.
In programming.
