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“Emiliana, come to Mamma,” I call out.
She takes my outstretched arm and tries to cling to me. “Careful, child,” Vanya says. “Your mother is still healing.”
“Are you in pain, Mamma?”
“No, my love. How have you been?”
“I’ve missed you, Mamma. But Aunty Vanya and Uncle Sergei have taken me on such fun adventures. We made ice cream, and played lots of games, and Aunty Vanya taught me to paint, and Uncle Sergei taught me a game called chess. I’m not very good, but—”
“You’re excellent!” Sergei chimes in, shaking his head. “Don’t you forget that, kid. You’re brilliant. You know, your stepdad Mikhail is a brilliant player too. Now that I think of it…” Sergei frowns. “At your age, he was just as good as—”
Fear grips my heart. No. No. No. There can’t be any semblance of similarity between Mikhail and Emiliana. They’ll take her away. If they don’t, Mikhail will never forgive me. I’d go back a thousand steps for the one we’ve taken forward.
“Vanya, Sergei, thank you for taking such good care of my daughter,” I say warmly, flashing them a huge grin.
Then, I turn to Emiliana. “You know, my love—” I clap my hands, ready to distract, already leading her away. “Let’s go to your room and see where you play these games.”
Emiliana leads the way, and we rush out together, leaving the siblings. They don’t follow, assuming mother and daughter need some time alone.
As Emiliana chatters on about her new toys, I struggle to hold back my tears. Mikhail has created this dream space just for her, not even knowing she is his own flesh and blood. I have underestimated the depths of his love.
Despite everything, he cherishes my little girl as if she were his daughter. The pain and regret I’ve carried for years feel suddenly heavier. I should have trusted him, should have told him the truth from the start.
“Mamma, isn’t it pretty?” Emiliana asks, showing me around her world.
Mikhail has been true to his word, lavishing attention on preparing a space just for my little girl. As Emiliana excitedly shows me around, I can scarcely believe the effort he’s made. Shelves filled with toys, a canopy bed fit for a princess—every detail is chosen with love and care.
“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” I manage to say. My voice catches in my throat as I take in the scene—my daughter happily playing in this room Mikhail made for her, never knowing the sacrifices he has made for her well-being.
I pull Emiliana into my arms again, smoothing back her dark curls. We stay that way for a long moment, the unspoken words hanging between us. I want to confess everything, to unburden my soul, but the words stick in my throat.
For now, I can only hope this moment brings her some small measure of joy. However long I can keep her safe, I will treasure every second we have together.
“I love you so much,” I whisper into her hair. She squeezes me tightly in response.
Overcome with emotion, I pull my daughter close. Mikhail’s easy acceptance of her makes my heart ache. He is a better man than I deserve.
For now, her paternity must remain secret. But as I look into her innocent eyes, I make a silent vow. One day I will tell him the truth. One day our lives will be free of lies and shadows.
Chapter 13 - Mikhail
I stand by in complete nervousness as the doctor finishes examining Caterina. He pulls away the curtains and I can see Caterina sitting on her bed, looking as worried as me.
The doctor packs his things slowly, making me impatient. I go to stand by Caterina’s side, taking her hand in mine. At last, briefcase in hand, he turns to us and breaks a smile.
“Well, you’re good to go. You can resume your regular life and won’t be requiring my assistance anymore. Just keep applying the topical ointments on the scars to heal, take your medication on time, and I’ll see you for a follow-up in a month.”
The doctor leaves the room and I whoop and pull Caterina into my arms, relief flooding through me. She’s healed. Whole. Safe.
I ache to kiss her, to claim what’s mine, but I hold back. This is too soon, too fast. I can’t scare her away again.
She steps back, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. “So, does this mean I can leave this room now?”
My gaze flickers to the IV stand, the medical equipment surrounding us. Of course she wants to escape this place of sickness and confinement.
“Your room is ready,” I say, tamping down the urge to ask her to share mine. “Where you’ll be most comfortable.”
She bites her lip, vulnerability flickering in her eyes. “And where will that be?”
