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It feels so damn good to be alive.
The peaceful lull of our Hawaiian haven is a stark contrast to the chaos of our previous life. The decision to relocate here after Natalya’s birth and with Yulia diving headfirst into a local school was our smartest move. She’s blossoming, surrounded by friends and the joys of youth.
“Mmm…mm.” Natalya suckles on, her rhythmic tugs pull me closer to her.
“My beautiful girl,” I hum. Gently, my fingers sift through her soft locks – a shade darker than mine but a beautiful blend of both Luka and me. The strands feel silken between my fingers, a testament to the exquisite fusion of our genes. I marvel at her beauty, at how seamlessly she ties our two worlds together.
Natalya’s little fingers move close to my mouth as she feeds. On impulse, I pretend to bite down on them, making sure not to touch them. Her reaction is immediate. She pulls her hand back, eyes wide in surprise, and then lets out a contagious giggle. This turns into a fun game between us, her offering her fingers and me feigning a bite.
“I love you, baby girl,” I whisper to my daughter.
The twinkle in her striking blue eyes, so much like Luka’s, often seems wise beyond her young months. Those eyes have witnessed the metamorphosis of a man from mafia leader to doting – no, exceptional – father.
Who’d have guessed Luka Ivankov, feared in the darkest alleys, would have a knack for changing diapers with military precision? I remember him all flustered, trying to fold the diaper just right, that rare, boyish grin on his face. “How’s this for multitasking?” he’d said, holding up a successfully changed Natalya as proof. It was endearing to see him embrace full-time daddy duties, especially with Yulia around. Those two have an unbreakable bond, with Luka teaching her how to tie her shoelaces and patiently listening to her stories about school.
My thoughts drift to Nilo.
Seeing him emerge from rehab, finding his path, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. Luka made sure he got the support he needed. Now, he’s back at the university, majoring in Clinical Psychology with a focus on Addiction Treatment and Counselling. It’s heartening to see him so determined to use his experience to help others navigate their struggles with addiction.
And then there’s Nana. Ah, my feisty, indomitable Nana. Watching her health bounce back, witnessing that spark reignite in her eyes – it’s a gift in itself. I’ve played with the thought of her living with us, but her spirit yearns for autonomy. She’s now living life on her terms in that swanky retirement haven Luka found. With each phone call, the lilt in her voice sings a tune of contentment. Knowing she’s happy fills my heart in ways words can never capture.
My chest tightens with a warmth that’s nearly overwhelming.
It’s a wonder how I can be so happy.
I watch as Yulia’s giggles from here, harmonizing with the laughter of the friendship bonds she’s formed, float in the balmy air. It’s like the soft prelude of her 10th birthday celebrations set for later; a gathering meant for only the nearest and dearest.
I’m momentarily pulled out of my thoughts by a deep chuckle. “Lost in thought?”
“Just counting my blessings,” I reply, giving Luka a silly, love-struck smile.
This is so perfect.
What’s more perfect is my husband’s sun-kissed skin radiating warmth, every defined muscle of his tattooed body standing out. Drops of sweat and seawater trace down his torso, leading to that enticing V. He catches my lingering gaze, a smirk forming on his lips.
“Enjoying the view, Solnyshko?” his voice, rich and teasing, resonates in the air, enveloping me in his irresistible masculine energy.
“Very much,” I flirt back, my eyes shamelessly roaming over him.
Suddenly, Natalya unlatches from me, her little body filled with energy. “Dada!” she squeals. Seems I’m not the only one in the house smitten with Mr. Irresistible!
Luka’s eyes momentarily drift to my exposed breast, and there’s that unmistakable glint of desire in his gaze. His smoldering look says it all. In response, I raise an eyebrow playfully and stick my tongue out at him, giving him a cheeky wink.
He leans down and presses a lingering kiss on my lips that promises more for later. Pulling back slightly, he murmurs, “Tonight, after the party, it’s just you, me, and the sound of the waves,” right before he gently scoops up Natalya, who giggles in delight.
“Malyška has something to show you,” Luka says, lifting his gaze to Yulia.
Yulia’s eyes, sparkling with the same mischief and wonder, meet mine. “Tetya Sophia,” she calls out, her voice bubbling with excitement.
Every time I hear her calling me “aunty,” my heart swells.
She holds out a bright lei of Hawaiian flowers, the colors radiant against her sun-kissed skin. “For you,” she beams, reminding me of how Luka often surprises me with little tokens of love.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say, the aroma of the flowers enveloping me, grounding me further in the paradise we’ve chosen as home.
The sun illuminates Yulia’s tan, her healthy skin contrasting vividly with her yellow bikini. It’s a day filled with the sound of children’s laughter and the gentle waves of the beach, but the loudest call of joy for me is when Natalya exclaims, “Yulya!” It’s her own delightful take on the Russian term for auntie, and it’s clear how deep their bond has grown.
“Hey there, little sunshine,” Yulia coos, bending down to Natalya’s level, her voice layered with affection. “Ty moe solnyshko,” she says in Russian, which translates to “you are my sunshine.” Natalya’s response is a bubbly giggle, reaching out with tiny hands to tug at the strings of Yulia’s bikini.
