Every time I hear her calling me “aunty,” my heart swells.
She holds out a bright lei of Hawaiian flowers, the colors radiant against her sun-kissed skin. “For you,” she beams, reminding me of how Luka often surprises me with little tokens of love.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say, the aroma of the flowers enveloping me, grounding me further in the paradise we’ve chosen as home.
The sun illuminates Yulia’s tan, her healthy skin contrasting vividly with her yellow bikini. It’s a day filled with the sound of children’s laughter and the gentle waves of the beach, but the loudest call of joy for me is when Natalya exclaims, “Yulya!” It’s her own delightful take on the Russian term for auntie, and it’s clear how deep their bond has grown.
“Hey there, little sunshine,” Yulia coos, bending down to Natalya’s level, her voice layered with affection. “Ty moe solnyshko,” she says in Russian, which translates to “you are my sunshine.” Natalya’s response is a bubbly giggle, reaching out with tiny hands to tug at the strings of Yulia’s bikini.
Our eyes meet. Yulia’s reflect all the love and joy of the moment. “TetyaSophia, just a tiny bit of ice cream for her? Please?” she implores with that mischievous glint I’ve come to know so well.
“I don’t know about that,” I reply, a playful hesitation in my voice as I glance back at my husband for some parental backup. But when I meet Luka’s eyes, he grins conspiratorially and gives Yulia a subtle nod, signaling his approval.
“Hey…” I feign protest, raising an eyebrow in mock annoyance.
Yulia giggles, coming closer with puppy eyes. “Come on,TetyaSophia. Just a teensy bit? It’s a beach day and my birthday. It’s practically a rule to have ice cream.”
Luka chuckles. “She’s got a point,solnyshko.”
I roll my eyes playfully, a smile creeping on my lips. “Alright, alright, but just a little; a little spoon, okay? And no sugary toppings.”
Yulia throws her hands in the air in victory, pulling Natalya into a celebratory dance. “See, ‘Talya?TetyaYulya always wins!”
“What are you guys doing?” In bursts Yulia’s friend, Kalea. With hair that screams “I surf before school” and a tan that could put any sunbather to shame, she’s the poster child for Hawaiian charm. “Ta-da!” She dramatically presents a seashell to Yulia as if it’s a golden trophy. With that flair for the dramatic, it’s clear why Yulia’s taken such a shine to her.
“That’s beautiful!” Yulia exclaims, her fingers tracing the spiral patterns. She then gently places it in Natalya’s grasp, teaching her the words “Sea…Shell.”
“Malyška!” A deep voice rings out from nearby. I instinctively rise to my feet, glancing toward the source. Luka soon stands beside me, towering protectively. His arm wraps around my waist while he cradles little Natalya securely in his other arm.
Yulia’s eyes light up with recognition and excitement. “Dima! Erik!” she exclaims, hurrying over to them.
Erik, ever the jovial one, engulfs Yulia in a big bear hug while Dima, holding a festively wrapped package, offers a warm smile.
“Spasibo, Dima!” Yulia says, accepting her gift with a grin.
Dimitri, with a warm chuckle, murmurs, “S dnyom rozhdeniya,” before leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on Yulia’s cheek as he wishes her a heartfelt “Happy Birthday.” “Though I must admit, Erik chose the wrapping paper.”
Erik defends his choice, “Come on! Who doesn’t love neon flamingos?”
“Neon flamingos are my favorite!” Yulia exclaims, dotting a kiss on Erik’s cheek. Dressed in yet another of his impeccable suits, he looks every bit the runway model. “Little sunshine,” she says, placing a soft kiss on Natalya’s tiny forehead, “TetyaYulia’s off to fetch the best ice cream for you. Wait here.”
Natalya, eyes sparkling with curiosity and delight, tries to respond. “Ish…creem?” Her attempt is adorably imperfect, her voice filled with the charming hesitancy of an 18-month-old navigating new words.
I can’t help but chuckle. “She’s trying,” I comment, looking over at Luka, who has a big smile plastered across his face.
With a playful nod and an energetic air, Yulia dashes toward a distant vendor, Max, bounding happily by her side.
Luka, watching the duo run off and suppressing his laughter, turns to his guests, “How was the flight?”
“Fantastic.” Erik reaches out to stroke little Natalya’s cheek, drawing her attention.
However, she instantly recoils at the unfamiliar touch, babbling, “Da-da da da da,” and hides her face in Luka’s chest, her tiny fingers clutching his shirt for comfort.
“Don’t scare her,” Luka teases, adjusting Natalya in his arms to shield her a bit more.
“Prostite,” Erik apologizes with a playful roll of his eyes, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I was just trying to be friendly. Maybe I should’ve brought a puppet or something.”
Dimitri leans in, wiggling his fingers playfully in a “come hither” gesture, attempting to coax a giggle from Natalya.
