“I told them evening visits only,” Konstantin says, helping me to the chair. “You need rest.”
Oleg nods his approval. “I’ve arranged for lunch to be served here as well. Is there anything else you require?”
“No, thank you,” I say, still slightly bewildered by this new, solicitous version of the normally stern head of household.
After Oleg leaves, Konstantin joins me at the table, pouring tea from a silver pot. The breakfast spread is impressive—fresh fruit, yogurt, whole grain toast, poached eggs, and what looks like a protein smoothie in a tall glass.
“Doctor’s orders,” Konstantin explains, noting my examination of the food. “She was very specific about nutritional requirements.”
“I see you get bacon,” I observe, eyeing his plate with its more substantial offerings.
A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not growing a human.”
“Fair point.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sun warming the room as it climbs higher in the sky. It’s strange how quickly the extraordinary can become ordinary—how sitting here with Konstantin, sharing breakfast after everything that’s happened, already feels like a routine we’ve practiced for years.
“The children are okay?” I ask finally, setting down my empty teacup. “Really okay?”
Konstantin’s expression sobers slightly. “They’re resilient. Lev and Nikolai have asked some questions about their mother—why she came back, why she said what she did. I’ve been as honest as appropriate for their age.” His hand finds mine across the table, fingers intertwining naturally. “We’ll work through this together. Make sure they understand it’s not their fault, that they’re loved. Children are adaptable, but they shouldn’t have to face this alone.”
The earnestness in his voice catches me off guard—this new Konstantin who speaks openly about emotional support andshared responsibility. It suits him better than I would have expected.
“And Alya?”
Before he can respond, there’s a commotion outside the door—young voices hushing each other, a muffled giggle.
The door bursts open, and Alya races in, followed more sedately by Lev and Nikolai. Behind them come Julian and Lila and—surprisingly—Elena, who winks at me over Alya’s head.
“Mommy! You’re awake!” Alya climbs onto the bed with the fearless determination of an 8-year-old, careful not to jostle me but clearly desperate for contact. “We made you a cake!”
Sure enough, Julian carries a slightly lopsided chocolate cake decorated with colorful frosting and too many candles. The words “GET WELL SOON MOMMY & BABY” are written in uneven blue lettering across the top.
“You did?” I ask, emotion threatening to overwhelm me again.
“Elena helped,” Lev says proudly. “We had to try three times because Nikolai kept eating the batter.”
“I did not,” Nikolai protests, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Arseny ate at least half.”
“Arseny?” I look to Elena, who has the decency to blush slightly.
“He’s surprisingly good with a whisk,” she says, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “And other handheld implements.”
“Elena!” I gasp, gesturing to the children, but I can’t help laughing despite myself.
“We’re so glad you’re okay,” Julian says, setting the cake on the bedside table and leaning down to kiss my forehead. “You scared the hell out of us.”
“Language,” I murmur automatically, making him roll his eyes.
“Yeah, that’s definitely the biggest concern around here,” Lila chimes in, but she’s smiling too, relief evident on her face.
The room fills with chatter as the children eagerly update me on everything that I’ve missed in the past few days. Konstantin remains beside me, his hand never leaving mine, even as he interacts with the children—answering questions, moderating disputes with unexpected patience.
It’s surreal—this semblance of domestic normalcy in the aftermath of so much violence and betrayal. But as I look around at these faces—some I’ve loved all my life, others I’ve only just begun to know—I realize this is what family looks like. Messy, complicated, but together.
After the cake is cut and distributed (with Konstantin subtly ensuring I get the largest piece), the children begin to wind down, the adrenaline of the past days finally catching up to them.
“Time to get to school,” Konstantin announces, rising from his spot beside me. “You can visit again tomorrow.”
