The restaurant was warm and elegant, with soft lighting, white tablecloths—the kind of place his mother loved. Friedrich and Anneliese were already seated, and the moment they spotted Hans, his mother stood up with a bright smile.
Adrik walked beside him, shoulders squared, jaw set in that careful, unreadable way he wore whenever he felt cornered. Hans wished he could take his hand, but he brushed their arms together, a small grounding touch.
Anneliese reached them first. “Hans!” She wrapped him in a warm hug before turning her bright smile on Adrik. “And you must be Adrik. We’re so happy to meet you.”
Adrik returned the smile and kissed her on each cheek. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
Friedrich stepped forward, offering a handshake that was more test than greeting. “Adrik.” His hazel eyes glared down at him, sharp and calculating. “Hans tells us your surname is German?”
Hans’ stomach clenched, a heavy weight settling in its pit. Here we go.
“Yes,” Adrik said calmly. “My father is German.”
“And your mother?” Friedrich pressed.
“Russian.” Adrik paused. “Mostly.”
Hans frowned.Mostly? That wasn’t what Adrik had told him before. He was stuck saying his father was German since Hans had said he was in a previous conversation. He opened his mouth to smooth things over, but his father was already moving on.
Sitting at their table, menus barely opened, Friedrich leaned forward, elbows on the table like an interrogator settling in. “So,” he began, “are you a Russian citizen?”
“No,” Adrik said. “I’m working on getting my German citizenship.”
Friedrich’s brows lifted. “Working on it. Meaning you’re not legally settled yet?”
Hans shot a warning look to his father. “Dad—”
But Friedrich ignored him. “Did you grow up in Russia?”
Adrik hesitated. Just a flicker, but Hans saw it. Then Adrik turned his head slightly toward him, eyes asking for help, or maybe for the questions to stop. Hans’ heart clenched.Why is he lying? What is he afraid of?
“I spent… some time there,” Adrik said finally.
“Some time,” Friedrich repeated, unimpressed. “Your parents still live there, you said?”
“Yes,” Adrik replied quickly. “They’re both in Russia.”
Hans rolled his eyes.Both? That wasn’t right either. Adrik had told him his mother was in Russia, yes—but his father? He’d never said that. Not once. A cold thread of confusion wound through him. Why change the story now? Why hide this?
Anneliese must have sensed the tension when she reached across the table with a gentle smile. “Munich must feel very different from Russia. Do you like it here so far?”
Adrik exhaled, grateful for the shift. “Yes. Very much. Germany feels… safer.”
Hans’ chest tightened at the word.Safer from what? From who?
Friedrich wasn’t done. “And what brought you here? Work? Family? A woman?” His eyes flicked pointedly between them. “Or a man?”
“Dad!” Hans hissed.
Adrik stiffened, but he kept his voice even. “A fresh start.”
“That’s vague,” Friedrich said.
“It’s enough,” Hans snapped, heat rising in his cheeks. “Can we please just enjoy dinner?”
His father leaned back, unimpressed but silent for now.
Adrik’s gaze dropped to his hands, fingers curling slightly. Hans nudged his foot against Adrik’s under the table, a quiet reassurance.I’m here. You’re not alone.
