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“That’s not the point.”

She looks at me. “He’s been like this all morning.”

“He’s been like this for seven months,” I say.

Nikolai puts the plate on the small table near the window and helps me to my feet. One hand stays at my elbow as I stand, even though I don't need it. I let him keep it there anyway.

Today’s the first time Sofia’s parents are coming to the house.

Anya has asked about them several times since Nikolai told her they wanted to see her. She doesn’t remember much about them. Her memories are made of photographs, birthday cards, and one faded video of a woman with Sofia’s eyes reading her a story.

Nikolai has not spoken much about the visit. He arranged it himself. He chose the day, told Sergei to collect them from the airport because they had given up hope and moved away to another city few months ago. Irina is also coming. I won’t say things between us are no longer contentious, but at least she doesn’t have any more passive-aggressive remarks against me.

I know what it cost him anyway.

After Galina’s confession, there was one conversation in the house where he made his stance very clear.

He stood at the head of his desk and said, “Anya is my daughter. Nothing about her life changes. Nobody speaks to her differently, treats her differently, or makes her feel that a lie told before she was born changes who she is. She’s still a Volkov.”

Honestly, this made me fall in love with him even more.

Nobody argued. Nobody would have been stupid enough to.

But it was more than fear of Nikolai that kept things the same. They had all seen little Anya grow up. She was the Volkov princess, nothing else mattered.

Kirill returned to his place in the household. Things were rough for him for a while, but he understood how Galina had manipulated us all.

“I never understood why she was lying,” he says. “Even back then at the hospital, I thought she was just confused. And I think she used that to take advantage of everyone.”

Galina is gone, and so is Evan. I don’t want to sound like a selfish person, but a part of me is relieved. I no longer have to look back over my shoulder or anticipate his next move. I’m free, for good…

Nikolai sits beside me while I eat the toast, his hand resting on the side of my stomach. The baby shifts beneath his palm.

He feels it and looks down. “There,” he says quietly.

Anya climbs onto the edge of the bed beside me. “Did it kick?”

“It moved,” I tell her.

“Can it hear me?”

“Yes.”

She leans toward my stomach. “Hi. I’m Anya. I’m going to be your big sister, so you have to listen to me.”

Nikolai’s mouth shifts as if he is trying not to smile.

Anya presses her hand beside his. “Do you think it knows Papa is being annoying?”

“It probably does,” I say.

“I’m not being annoying,” he says.

She grins, pleased with herself.

A few minutes later, Kirill knocks once and opens the door. “They’re here,” he says.

He has changed since he came back. The old restraint is still there, but he no longer looks at Nikolai as though he is waiting for a bullet in the back. Nikolai apologized to him privately. Kirill never told anyone what was said, but he came back to work the next morning.