“Text us when you get home, Lauren,” he calls over his shoulder, already reaching for his jacket.
I settle back in my chair, pretending I didn’t notice how completely his demeanor transformed the moment that phone buzzed. The change was striking—like watching someoneslip on a familiar mask, returning to a role they’d thought they’d abandoned. What could have that effect on him? Or who? For a moment, he looked exactly like he used to when he worked alongside Nikolai, when they’d disappear into hushed conversations and emergency meetings like conspirators planning their next move.
I don’t push for answers, but I study Sophia instead. She’s methodically sawing through a piece of roasted potato that’s already been cut in half, the knife scraping against her plate with unnecessary force. When she realizes what she’s doing, she switches to mashing it with her fork, scooping up clumps and chewing mechanically despite the fact that mashed potato requires no actual chewing.
She noticed his strange behavior too. Timur claimed it was work-related, but according to Sophia, there hasn’t been much “work” to speak of lately. So what kind of call could transform him so completely?
Hannah, Sophia, and I finish dinner in subdued quiet before migrating to the living room. Hannah spreads her collection of dolls across the coffee table, immediately absorbed in their complex social dramas while we tackle the dishes.
We load the dishwasher in companionable silence, both lost in our own thoughts. When we're done, Sophia makes us each a cup of chamomile tea, and we settle onto the couch, letting mindless television wash over us.
“So,” Sophia says during a commercial break, shooting me a knowing look. “What’s the latest? Any interesting men on the horizon?”
I tense despite knowing she means well. My fingers tighten around the warm ceramic mug as I shake my head. “No with a capital N, Soph. You think I have the bandwidth to juggle a four-year-old and the emotional gymnastics that come with dating? Hard pass.”
Sophia grins mischievously. “Not even for that Brad Pitt lookalike from your office building?”
I laugh despite myself. “Brad Pitt’s doppelganger is more obsessed with his reflection than I am with Hannah. Trust me, I’m good. Our life is peaceful. Uncomplicated.”
“I know.” Sophia’s expression turns serious, her voice gentle but persistent. “But you deserve happiness too, Lau. I know these past four years have been brutal, but you can’t wall yourself off forever."
“I’m not walled off. I have—"
“Hannah. I know.” Sophia’s smile is understanding but sad. “She’s the light of your life, and she’s incredible. But what about your needs? Your desires?”
I cringe internally.
God, I really need to expand my vocabulary.
“Listen,” Sophia continues, “if you ever want us to take Hannah for a night—just so you can remember what it feels like to be Lauren instead of just ‘Hannah’s mom’—say the word. Besides, I could use a little practice before this little one arrives.” She pats her belly affectionately.
“Thanks, Soph.” I set my mug aside and pull her into a warm hug, breathing in her familiar lavender perfume.
The truth is, there’s no room in my shattered heart for anyone new. When Brad Pitt’s doppelganger asked me to dinner last month, I went home that night and stared at Nikolai’s empty pillow until my eyes burned, willing him to materialize from my memories like some kind of grief-induced magic trick.
The thought of dating feels like betrayal.
How do you replace the love of your life?
How do you settle for ordinary when you’ve experienced extraordinary?
I don’t want dinner dates or awkward small talk. I want Nikolai to appear behind me again, all dangerous intensity andsharp edges, his perfectly sculpted jaw set in determination as he warns me away from his world. I want his voice, low and commanding, promising both protection and peril in the same breath.
I know it sounds insane.
But the brutal truth is, no one measures up to him. I’ve learned to function, to build a life from the ashes of our brief time together, but the idea of another man’s hands on my skin still makes me recoil.
“How are you feeling about the baby?” I ask, desperate to redirect the conversation away from my romantic void.
Sophia’s hand moves protectively to her stomach. “Terrified, honestly. I have no idea how you managed it alone. The thought of actually pushing a watermelon-sized human out of my body makes me want to hide under the covers until the baby magically appears.”
“Trust me, I had the same panic.” I smile, glancing at Hannah as she orchestrates an elaborate tea party between her dolls. “Labor isn’t exactly a spa day, but what comes after... it’s worth every second of pain. I’d do it ten times over for her.”
We share a moment of understanding, two women bonded by the fierce, terrifying love that comes with motherhood. We chat until our conversation reaches its natural conclusion, and I finally gather Hannah and our things.
During the drive home, Timur’s abrupt departure plays on repeat in my mind. The way he moved with such sudden urgency, like he’d been waiting for that call. Something cold and suspicious unfurls in my chest.
What if this is connected to my mysterious watcher?
