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She sits beside me, her tone soft but serious. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Being here, away from your mother, your life…everything familiar. But you’re stronger than you think.”
Her kindness feels like a balm to my frayed nerves, and I swallow hard, fighting back tears.
“I don’t feel strong,” I admit, my voice trembling.
“You don’t have to feel it,” she says gently. “You just have to keep going.”
For a moment, we sit in silence, the warmth of her presence making the cold edges of this place feel a little less sharp.
“You remind me of someone I used to know,” she says after a while, her tone thoughtful. “Someone with a fire in her that nothing could extinguish.”
I glance at her, curious. “Who?”
She smiles faintly, her eyes distant. “Your grandmother. She was a force to be reckoned with. And you…you have that same spark.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod, letting her words settle. She knew my grandmother? Even I didn’t know her. My dad had a difficult childhood is all I know. He was never accepted by his father because he was born out of wedlock, and my grandmother was merely his mistress.
“Get some rest,” Tatyana says, standing and smoothing her skirt. “And if you need anything—anything at all—you know where to find me.” She turns to leave, her soft footsteps almost reaching the door when I find my voice.
“Tatyana?”
She stops, glancing back at me. “Yes, dear?”
I hesitate, clutching the empty glass of water in my hands, my fingers trembling slightly. “Can you…can you help me talk to my mom?”
Her expression softens, and for a moment, she looks as though she’s weighing my words carefully.
“I miss her,” I add quickly, my voice breaking despite my efforts to hold it together. “It’s been weeks, and she doesn’t even know where I am. She must be worried sick. Please, I just need to hear her voice.”
Tatyana walks back toward me, her warm gaze never leaving mine. She kneels beside me, taking my hand gently in hers.
“I know how hard this must be for you,” she says, her voice kind but cautious. “But things are…complicated right now.”
“I don’t care about complicated,” I whisper, my throat tightening. “I just want to know she’s okay. I need to talk to her.”
Tatyana sighs softly, her thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says after a moment.
The glowof the TV bathes the room in soft light as I sit cross-legged on the bed, absently flipping through channels. Nothing holds my attention for more than a few seconds. It’s all noise—distractions that don’t work.
My thoughts keep drifting back to Tatyana’s promise earlier.I’ll see what I can do.
I don’t know why, but a small part of me wants to believe her. Maybe because she’s the only person in this house who doesn’t make me feel like I’m completely alone.
A knock at the door startles me, and before I can answer, it opens.
Mikhail steps inside, looking me up and down. I feel my stomach do flips.
He’s holding something, a small box wrapped in plain brown paper, and his expression is unreadable.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away, instead walking toward me with measured steps. I sit up straighter, my body tensing as he stops at the edge of the bed.
“This is for you,” he says, holding out the package.
I look at it skeptically, not moving to take it. “What is it?”
“Open it and find out,” he replies.