“And the time before—”
“Andrei.” I cut him off before he lists my entire archive of personal failures. “I’ll be fine. Go to Los Angeles. Spend time with Mikhail. You’ve barely seen him since…everything.” Since our mother fled to Russia, we’ve been trying to come to terms with the total destruction of our family over the last six months. It’s been…hard, lonely, confusing. I’m glad Andrei has Mikhail to confide in. I could have that too, but our age gap has made it difficult for me to form a meaningful relationship with him.
He quiets for a moment, staring out the window as New York wakes up around us, shops rolling up metal shutters, people walking dogs, taxis carving through early traffic.
“He’s excited to see you,” I add softly.
Andrei exhales. “I know. I just…you’ve never been alone before. Not really.”
He’s right. Even when we lived in that huge penthouse with our parents, I wasn’t alone, I was controlled, watched, criticized, used.
This is different.
“I can handle a week,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel.
He gives me a look. The kind that says he knows exactly how I feel, even when I pretend otherwise. “Call me. Every day.”
I snort. “You’re going to be with Mikhail. He’ll think I’m clingy.”
“Mikhail knows you’re the best part of this family.” He smiles. “You’re his sister too. You know he wanted you to come.”
“I know,” I say with a sigh before running through my usual list of excuses.The shop is too busy, I can’t get away this time of year, one of us should stay in the city. He just shakes his head, not challenging me again.
We pull up to the departures drop-off, and Andrei unbuckles, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. Before he gets out, he pauses and touches my chin gently, forcing me to look at him.
“You’re safe now, Natalya,” he says. “Boris is gone. Mother is gone. The shop is doing great. Nothing’s going to happen.”
I nod, but something tightens in my chest anyway. Sometimes it all feels too good to be true…this silence, this sense of normalcy. Sometimes, the thought of Irina storming back into our lives the same way she stormed out torments me. But now’s not the time to indulge the cloudy thoughts. So, I flash Andrei a bright smile and give him a reassuring nod.
“I’ll be fine, big brother.”
He gives me one more searching look, then sighs and gets out. I watch him walk inside until he disappears into the crowd.
And then, the car suddenly feels too quiet.
On the drive back, I try to distract myself with errands. I stop for groceries. Pick up supplies for the shop. I tell myself I’m doing fine.
But when I pass a pet shop with a bright handwritten sign taped to the glass;“SHELTER DOGS FOR ADOPTION TODAY”I slow down without meaning to.
Before I can overthink it, I park.
Inside, the chatter of volunteers and the soft yips of puppies fill the room. Most people crowd around the younger dogs, the ones bouncing around with endless energy. But my eyes land on a quiet, older dog curled in the corner of her crate. Gray around the muzzle, eyes soft and uncertain, tail thumping once when she notices me watching her.
“Oh,” I whisper. Something in my chest cracks open. “Hi there.”
A blonde woman with a jacket that says “volunteer” approaches. “Isn’t she beautiful?” she asks quietly.
I nod, a big smile cracking my face. “She really is.”
“She’s sweet,” the volunteer woman continues. “Just shy. Older dogs often get overlooked.”
The dog stands slowly and steps closer to the bars, pressing her nose against them. I kneel, letting her sniff my fingers. Her touch is tentative but warm.
“I’ll call you Vanda,” I murmur, brushing my fingers against her cold nose.
“You’re taking her?” the volunteer lady asks, her voice a mixture of surprise and excitement. I nod and she waves me over with a big smile.
“Come. You just need to sign a few papers.”
