She walks in slowly. Touches the yellow walls. The crib I had delivered last week. The rocking chair by the window.
“It’s perfect,” she whispers.
“Safe,” I correct. “Windows don’t open. Camera in the corner. Door locks from inside. Separate ventilation system.”
“Anton.” She turns to me. Eyes wet again. “You thought of everything.”
“I think about you. Both of you. All the time.”
She crosses to me. Wraps her arms around my waist. Buries her face in my chest.
I hold her. Let her cry. Let myself breathe for the first time since we drove through those gates.
She likes it. She actually likes it.
“There’s one more thing,” I say after a moment.
She pulls back. Wipes her eyes. “What?”
“Come with me.”
I lead her back downstairs. Through the house. Past the formal dining room and the living areas.
To a wing she hasn’t seen yet.
I open the double doors.
And watch her face.
The kitchen is massive. Commercial-grade everything. Two ovens. Three sinks. Marble countertops that stretch forever. A separate baking station with a stand mixer, every tool imaginable, temperature-controlled storage.
And along one wall—floor-to-ceiling shelving. Empty. Waiting.
“Anton.” Mary’s voice is little more than a whisper. “What is this?”
“Your kitchen.” I move to stand behind her. Hands on her shoulders. “For your bakery.”
“My… what?”
“You’re starting a business. A real one. Mary’s Bakery. Or whatever you want to call it. This is where you do it.”
She turns to stare at me. “You built me a commercial kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“In our house?”
“In our home. So you can work when you want. Rest when you need to. Be close to our daughter. Build something that’s yours.”
Tears are streaming down her face now. “I don’t… Anton, this is—”
“What you deserve. What you’ve always deserved.” I cup her face. “You’re brilliant,malyshka. You create things that make people happy. And now you have the space and resources to do it right. No more borrowing Jasper’s kitchen. No more pretending it’s just a hobby. This is real. You’re real. And everyone’s going to know it.”
She’s sobbing.
Behind us, I hear Lev say something to Dima about “making the pregnant lady cry,” but I ignore them.
“Do you like it?” I ask quietly.
