I see her flinch beside me. She swallows hard, and when she reaches out to him, it’s with trembling fingers. She curls her hands around both of his, as if anchoring herself to him, perhaps needing it more than he does. Her thumbs move in slow, rhythmic circles against the back of his hands before she draws a deep breath and continues.
“I thought he was for a long time. But the truth is… some things happened that made me think that. He had to go away to stay safe. But he wasn’t gone forever.”
Leo’s eyes widen, confusion clouding the soft brown of his gaze. “Wait, what? Where did he go?”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. My voice is steady, but there’s a fragile thread beneath it, stretched taut by years of longing. “Right here, Leo.”
He blinks, turning toward me sharply. “What do you mean?”
I reach out and gently brush a knuckle down the side of his face, tracing the curve of his cheek like I’ve dreamed of doing ever since I found out he existed. “I mean... I am your father, Leo.”
His mouth parts, but no sound comes out. His brow creases so deeply, it looks like he’s trying to solve a riddle he wasn’t prepared for. Then his lips tremble, his eyes fill with tears so sudden and full, it nearly breaks me.
“You’re my dad?” he whispers.
I nod, unable to speak past the burn in my throat. “Yes.”
A heartbeat passes… then he launches himself at me.
His little arms wrap around my neck with such fierce force that I nearly fall backward, catching him just in time to anchor him against my chest. He buries his face in my shoulder and begins to sob—not the soft, whimpering kind, but the unfiltered, soul-deep kind that comes from a place of relief and pure, aching joy.
“Iknewit!” he cries. “I knew it, I knew it, Iknewit!”
I clutch him tighter, my arms banding around his small frame, terrified he might disappear again if I let go. My hand cups the back of his head, fingers threading through hishair, and I press a shaking kiss there, against the crown of my son’s head.
The dam breaks. Weeks of never knowing if he’d come back to me alive or dead. That day I truly believed he would be killed right in front of me, and the man taunting me that I’d never get this moment—it all spills out in the form of hot, stinging tears that blur my vision.
I whisper fiercely, voice raw with emotion, “I will never leave you again. Ever. Not for anything. Not for anyone.”
His little hands grab fistfuls of my shirt. “Promise?”
“I promise,” I choke out, pulling back just enough to look at him. His face is blotchy, tears streaking down his cheeks, but there’s a glow in his eyes that steals the air from my lungs.
“Can I call you Dad now?” he asks quietly.
A noise escapes me that’s half a laugh, half a sob. I kiss his forehead, then rest mine against his. “You can call me anything you want,synok.But yes, I would love that.”
I feel Ivy’s hand slide over my back, rubbing in gentle circles. She’s crying too, silent tears that track down her face, but she doesn’t speak.
She just holds on, just like I do.
The three of us stay that way for a long time.
A family finally stitched back together.
31
MAKSIM
The wheels touch Russian soil with a sigh and I feel something in my chest unclench that I didn’t realize I’d been holding since we left.
Across from me, Ivy’s hand finds mine under the blanket, a small, steady pressure that says more than any words could. Between us, Leo has his nose glued to the window, fogging the glass as he tries to memorize every muted-light, snow-dusted detail of the tarmac.
Lettie’s pressed against the window next to him, mirroring him with her own hands pressed against the glass.
“Are we here?” Leo breathes.
“We’re here,” I tell him.
