It didn’t.
I still have moments where I remember the hospital room. The poison. The office. The old shame. The feeling of being judged before anyone asked me who I was.
But I was right about one thing.
I did not let his mother’s words get inside me.
Not permanently. I belong where I am because I chose to stay. That matters.
Also, because Ari has found his father’s car keys and is now sprinting toward the back staircase, and only a woman with full legal authority and strong hamstrings can catch him in time.
“Ari!”
He squeals and runs faster.
Aleksei catches him first, lifting him clean off the ground with one arm. Ari laughs like this is the best game ever invented. “Criminal,” Aleksei says.
“Mine,” Ari replies proudly, and pats his own chest.
I laugh.
Then Ari points at me. “Mama.”
“Yes?”
He looks at me very seriously and says, “Pretty.”
For one second, I just stare at him. Then at Aleksei. Because that is not random. That is absolutely something he has heard before.
Aleksei gives me a look so innocent it would fool nobody.
“You taught him that,” I say.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Ari leans toward me from his father’s arms and repeats, louder this time, “Mama pretty.”
“Well,” I say, taking him from Aleksei because I deserve one reward in this house, “at least someone here has taste.”
Aleksei’s mouth twitches. “He does.”
That should have warned me. It doesn’t.
The rest of the day is normal in the way our days are normal now. Breakfast. Calls. Writing. Ari refusing his nap, then passing out face-first on Aleksei’s chest like he wasn’t fighting sleep with his whole soul five minutes earlier.
By evening, I think the day is done.
That is my mistake.
After dinner, one of the staff tells me Ari has “something to show me” in the garden.
I immediately suspect Aleksei, because Ari has many talents but independent event planning is not one of them.
Still, I go.
The back garden is lit softly. Nothing huge. Nothing ridiculous. No orchestra. No rose petals. Thank God.
