“How do you know green is his favorite color?”
“He said he liked my green T. Rex the best.” She says this like it’s the most obvious logic in the world. “So green must be his favorite.”
I smile despite the cold seeping through my coat. These moments with her are the only things that keep me sane. The simple pleasure of walking her to school, listening to her plans for the day, and watching her face light up when she talks about glitter and dinosaurs and the man who has somehow become the center of her small universe.
We reach the school gates, and I crouch to zip her jacket to her chin. “Be good today. Listen to your teachers.”
“I’m always good.”
“I know you are.” I kiss her forehead. “I love you more than all the stars.”
“I love you more than all the dinosaurs.” She throws her arms around my neck for a quick hug, then races off toward the entrance where her friend Masha is waiting.
I watch until she disappears through the doors. I always watch until she disappears. It’s one of my rituals. Small acts of control in a life where I control almost nothing.
The walk home is longer without her. The sleet has turned to proper rain, and it drums against my hood and soaks through my thin gloves. I’m thinking about the lessons I need to prepare for this afternoon when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I pull it out, expecting a message from one of my student’s parents.
What I see instead turns my blood to ice.
It’s a photograph of Kira’s school, taken from across the street. The angle captures the front entrance, the colorful banners in the windows, and the cluster of children streaming through the gates. In the corner of the frame, barely visible but unmistakably there, I see myself crouching to zip Kira’s jacket.
The photo was taken minutes ago.
My eyes drop to the message beneath the image.
Dinner tonight. 8 p.m. Pushkin Restaurant. Come alone, or don’t come at all. Your choice what happens next.
Bogdan is here. In St. Petersburg. Early.
My hands shake so badly that I nearly drop the phone. I look around wildly, searching the street for any sign of him. Any dark car parked at the curb or figure watching from a doorway. But the rain has driven everyone indoors, and the sidewalks are empty except for a few hunched-over pedestrians hurrying to their destinations.
He could be anywhere. He could be watching me right now.
I keep walking even though every instinct screams at me to run back to the school, grab Kira, and disappear. But he wants me panicked. He wants me to make stupid decisions that he can use against me later.
I won’t give him the satisfaction.
I stop shaking by the time I reach the apartment. Pyotr looks up from his laptop when I enter, and his eyes narrow as he takes in my face.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” The lie comes automatically. “Just cold. The rain is getting worse.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. That’s one of the things I’ve come to appreciate about him. He knows when to ask questions and when to wait.
I hang up my wet coat and retreat to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. In the mirror, my face is pale and drawn. I look like a woman who’s seen a ghost.
Maybe I have.
I pull out my phone and stare at the photograph again. The casual cruelty of it takes my breath away. He wanted me to know he was watching. Wanted me to understand that he could have reached out and touched Kira, and there would have been nothing I could do to stop him.
The message is clear. He owns me. He always has.
I spend the next several hours going through the motions. Teaching lessons, making lunch, and pretending everything is normal while my mind races through scenarios and contingencies.
I can’t bring Kira home tonight. I can’t risk Bogdan showing up at the apartment or following her from school. I need her somewhere safe, somewhere he won’t think to look.
