I lean back in the chair, trying not to let the knot in my chest tighten too much. It’s onlybeen three dayssince everything unraveled. Three days since I learned the truth about Jake, Stephan, and the life I thought I knew.
It should feel like chaos. It does feel like chaos.
I should still be furious. Hurt. Mad as hell.
And I am. Somewhere deep inside, there’s a version of me with fists clenched, ready to kill. But then there’s this version of me—the one sitting in this obnoxiously comfortable chair, watching my son laugh with his father like it’s always been this way.
It’s not the life I would’ve chosen. But somehow, it’s the life I’ve landed in.
“Oh, no!” The tower sways precariously as Elijah giggles. His small hands steady it, and I watch Leonid's fingers twitch like he wants to help but is forcing himself to let Elijah handle it.
"Tell me more Russia stories," Elijah demands, successfully extracting his block. "Did you have a pet bear?"
"No bears," Leonid says. "But I did have a very fierce hamster named Boris."
The mental image of little Leonid with a hamster is almost too much. I press my lips together, but he catches my expression anyway.
"Boris was very intimidating," he insists with mock gravity. "All the other hamsters feared him.” His voice softens, taking on a different tone. "But he was lonely, and angry."
Something in the way Leonid says it makes my chest tight. I can picture it so clearly – a little boy in a huge mansion, with nothing but a hamster for company. The same loneliness that sometimes creeps into Leonid's eyes when he thinks no one's watching.
Elijah's bottom lip trembles slightly, his whole face crumpling the way only a 4-year-old's can when confronted with sadness. "That's not good," he whispers, abandoning his careful Jenga stance to scoot closer to Leonid.
Leonid reaches out, brushing back the dark curls that have fallen across Elijah's forehead. His fingers linger for a moment, and something about the gentleness in that gesture – this dangerous man touching our son with such care – makes heat pool in my stomach. It doesn't help that he looks unfairlyattractive playing father, his usual sharp edges softened by the afternoon light.
"No, it wasn't good," Leonid agrees, his thumb brushing one last curl into place. "But then something magical happened. Boris realized he didn't have to be lonely anymore."
"Why?" Elijah asks, his caramel brown eyes –his eyes- wide with wonder as he stares up at Leonid. The sight of them together like this, mirror images in everything but eye color, makes my heart do complicated gymnastics in my chest.
"Boris actually had a very interesting love story," Leonid continues, eyes twinkling like he is about to turn a rock to gold. I shift in my chair, trying to find a position that doesn't make my ribs scream. Three days isn't long enough to forget what bullets feel like, even if they missed their mark.
"Like a princess story?" Elijah leans in, completely forgetting about the Jenga tower.
"Better. Boris met a beautiful hamster named Natasha at the pet store next door. Every night, he would escape his cage just to go visit her."
I scoff out a laugh.More like Boris kidnapped her.But there's something oddly compelling about watching Leonid spin our story into a hamster fairy tale.
The sleek phone Leonid gave me yesterday morning – "For emergencies," he'd said, though we both know it's more about keeping me informed – vibrates against my leg. Another update from Mitch, the encrypted message making my throat tight: Dad's office has become a graveyard of vodka bottles, while Stephan plays the role of grieving friend perfectly. Poisoning my father's mind with stories about how the brutal Russian mob boss murdered his only daughter. The perfect narrative to keep his own hands clean.
Getting played by Stephan. Again.
I can almost see Mitch's jaw clenching behind those ever-present sunglasses as he maintains his post, pretending not to notice how Stephan's making himself indispensable to my father. "I'll find Elijah," Stephan had promised Dad, his voice thick with fake concern. "Whatever it takes."
He’ll fucking pay for everything.I clench my jaw.
"Did Boris have super powers too?"
Elijah asks, and I force myself back to the present, where my son is practically vibrating with excitement over a fictional hamster's love life.
"Of course. All Russian hamsters do. But his greatest power was persistence." Leonid's eyes meet mine over Elijah's head, and something in his gaze tells me we're not just talking about hamsters anymore. "He never gave up, even when everyone said it was impossible."
"Then what happened?"
"Well, one day, Boris and Natasha had a baby hamster. They named him Boris Junior, and he was the bravest little hamster in all of Moscow."
My chest tightens as Leonid's voice softens, telling our son a story that feels too close to home. A story about family and persistence and impossible odds.
"Was he as brave as you?" Elijah asks, and I nearly knock over my water glass.
