“Mama?” Her voice is thick with sleep.
“I’m here, malyshka.”
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
“Of course.”
I cross the room and lower myself onto the edge of her bed. She reaches for my hand and wraps her small fingers around mine, holding on like she’s afraid I might disappear if she lets go.
“Is Pyotr going to stay with us forever?” she mumbles into her pillow.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart. He’s just here for a little while.”
“I hope he stays forever.”
My throat tightens, and I swallow before I reply, “Go to sleep now.”
“Okay.” She goes quiet, then adds, “I love you more than all the dinosaurs, Mama.”
“I love you more than all the stars.”
Her breathing evens within minutes, but I wait until she’s fully asleep before I ease my hand from her grip and slip out of the room, pulling the door closed behind me.
The hallway is too quiet. I lean against the wall and press my palms against the cool surface to steady my racing heart. It hasn’t stopped pounding since Pyotr stood in my living room earlier and told me he thinks someone planted evidence to make me look guilty.
He knows. Not everything, but enough to start asking the right questions, which feels more dangerous than him asking the wrong ones.
The living room is almost totally dark when I reach it. Pyotr is sitting on the couch and scrolling through his phone in his hands. The blue light illuminates his face, highlighting the angles and stubble.
He looks up when I enter, and his gray eyes watch my every step as I move across the room.
“She’s asleep?” he asks.
“Finally. She was restless tonight.”
“Kids pick up on more than we give them credit for.”
I sink into the armchair across from him and tuck my legs beneath me. The distance between us feels both too far and not far enough. Two days ago, this man had his fingers inside me as I fell apart on my kitchen floor. Now, we’re sitting in my living room like strangers at a bus stop.
“You said you need the truth.” I force the words past the tightness in my throat. “Before you make decisions you can’t undo.”
He sets his phone on the cushion beside him and gives me his full attention. “I did.”
“What if the truth is worse than what you’re imagining?”
“Then I deal with it.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not, but lying to me won’t make it simpler.”
I know he’s right, but the truth is like a loaded gun, and I’ve spent so long keeping my finger off the trigger that I don’t know how to aim it anymore.
I let out a deep breath. “His name is Bogdan Lebedev. We were married for two years before I left him.”
Pyotr’s face doesn’t change, but I notice his hands go still on his thighs. “Yevgeny Lebedev’s nephew.”
“You already knew.”
