Page 92

Instead, my eyes drift to the second monitor, to the live feed from the nursery.

It’s become a habit, lately, keeping that small window open in the corner of my eye.

A lifeline, tethering me to something brighter when the shadows grow too long.

The scene on the screen steals a smile from me before I quite realize it’s happening. Seraphina, a blur of dark curls and wild energy, bouncing on chubby legs.

Her laughter, silent but unmistakable, as she toddles determinedly after something just out of frame. And then—Katerina.

She comes into view like the sun breaking through storm clouds, her hair a dark curtain, her smile bright.

She’s luminous.

She’s laughing too, scooping Seraphina up and spinning her around, her lips shaping words I can’t hear but long to.

Almost without thought, I reach out and unmute the feed, letting their mingled joy spill into the too-quiet room.

For a moment, I let myself just watch them, something in my chest aching with the simple beauty of it.

Two years.

For two years, I’ve wanted her with an intensity I’ve never felt before.

Even then, even when all I had were glimpses through cameras and car windows, snatches of her voice, the elegant lines of her profile.

I wanted, and it brought me no joy, only a constant, throbbing ache.

But now she’s here. In my home, in my life, in all the places I never dared hope to have her.

And it’s everything.

She’s everything.

This maddening, miraculous woman, with her stubborn compassion and her unshakable strength, her gentle hands and her spine of steel.

I watch as Seraphina launches herself at Katerina, small arms outstretched, and Katerina catches her, going dramatically sprawling onto the playroom rug.

Peals of delighted childish laughter echo through the speaker, and I feel my own smile widen in response.

This. These stolen moments of uncomplicated happiness. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.

What it meant to smile just because.

To feel something bright and buoyant kindling in my chest, untainted by the bloodstained demands of my world.

I’m in love with her.

The knowledge sits in my chest like a second heart, full and heavy and undeniable. I’ve known for a while, if I’m honest with myself. But I’ve refused to name it, because words have weight, and weight makes things real, and real things can be lost. Can be taken.

But watching her now, breathless and radiant, her hair a tangled corona on the carpet, Seraphina sprawled giggling on her chest, I can’t remember why I ever fought it.

Can’t fathom any reason to keep those words unspoken, not when they pulse in my blood.

I love her. I love her. And maybe, if I’m undeservedly lucky, I’ll get the chance to tell her. To shape this feeling into words and actions.

A buzz from my phone shatters the moment, jarring in the quiet.

I glance at the screen reflexively, already knowing it won’t be good news.