"Traitor," I tell my daughter, but I'm smiling.
Adrian, meanwhile, has decided sleep is for the weak. He lies in his bassinet, alert and watching, like he's standing guard.
"He's going to be trouble," Mariana predicts.
"They both are. They're ours."
She laughs, then immediately shushes herself as Sofia stirs. "We're going to be terrible at this."
"Probably."
"Our children are going to need so much therapy."
"Definitely."
"But they'll be loved."
"Fiercely. Completely. Probably too much."
"No such thing as too much."
I think about my sister Anya, slowly healing in Chicago with Alexei and Mila's help, learning what real love looks like after twenty-three years of horror. About Mariana's mother, who raised her alone after her father died. About all the ways love can be imperfect but still be enough.
"No," I agree. "No such thing."
Two weeks later, I'm alone with the twins while Mariana showers—a fifteen-minute window that feels like hours. Sofia is crying, Adrian needs changing, and I'm trying to heat bottles one-handed.
This is when Boris finds me.
"Sir?" He takes in the chaos—me shirtless because Adrian spit up, Sofia red-faced and screaming, something suspicious leaking from Adrian's diaper.
"Don't say a word."
"I was just going to offer—"
"Help. Yes. Please."
He takes Sofia, who immediately stops crying. Because of course she does.
"You have the magic touch," I accuse.
"I have practice. Seven younger siblings."
"Seven?"
"Russian families." He shrugs, bouncing Sofia with practiced ease. "You'll learn."
And I do. Slowly, messily, imperfectly. I learn that Sofia only sleeps when held but Adrian prefers his space. That they both calm to Mariana singing in Spanish but will accept my Russian lullabies in desperation. That love multiplies rather than divides, growing to fill whatever space it's given.
And one month in, something miraculous happens.
Sofia smiles.
Not gas, not reflex. A real smile, directed at me while I'm making ridiculous faces at 4 AM.
"Mariana," I whisper urgently.
"If this is about Adrian's diaper, you're on your own."
