“Where I’m going…” He pauses. “Communication isn’t always safe. If Igor tracks any calls back here—”
“He’ll know you’re coming.”
“Yes.”
I close my eyes. Try to breathe through the fear. “So I might not hear from you at all.”
“You might not.” His arms tighten. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you. Every second. Every breath.”
“That’s not the same as knowing you’re alive.”
“I know.” His hand moves to my face, tilting my chin up. “But I need you to trust me. If you don’t hear from me, it means I’m working. It means I’m being careful. It means I’m doing everything I can to come home.”
My eyes burn. “And if something goes wrong?”
“Then Dima will tell you.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “But nothing’s going wrong.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” His forehead touches mine. “Because I have too much to lose now.”
I nod. Swallow hard. “Okay.”
“You’ll eat.”
“I’ll try.”
“Mary.”
“I’ll eat. I promise.”
“And rest.”
“Yes,Dad.”
He pinches my side. I yelp.
“Not funny,” he says, but he’s smiling.
“A little funny.”
We stand there—wrapped up in each other, the morning sun streaming in—and for a moment, everything else fades.
Then he pulls back slightly. Just enough to look at me.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” he says quietly.
“Okay.”
“But I’m going to say it in Russian.”
I blink. “Why?”
His mouth tips up at the corners. “Because I’m a coward.”
“You? A coward?” I almost laugh. “You’re the least cowardly person I know.”
“Not about this.”
