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I’m on my feet so fast my head spins. I glare at him, anger coursing through me. I hate him. I despise every single thing about him, and I can’t stand the implication I don’t care about my reason for living.

“You fucking bastard,” I say, forgetting who has the power for a second. And when I remember, I don’t care. “You asshole. Don’t try to act like I’ve been neglecting him. You put me here, you took my son. Sasha’s the only thing I’ve cared about for the last two years, so let me see him. Now.”

My eyes start to burn as my throat closes.

“Please.”

He pulls his hand from his pocket and tosses me his phone. I say his. It’s not locked, so it’s probably a higher end burner. I start to shake. He’s letting me have a phone? Is that how I’m meant to communicate with Sasha? A?—

“Open the photos. Press play.”

My stomach starts to dance queasily. I do as I'm told.

I can’t move. My entire world melts down to the video playing.

Sasha. In the sunshine, the backyard, I imagine. The one I snuck out through. I can see the back of the mansion, the flowers and the shade of a tree in the area. And Sasha, laughing, running, and playing.

He squeals with delight and starts chasing something and the camera zooms in. A butterfly. Sasha’s happy little face then fills the screen and I’m bombarded.

Relief and happiness at the fact he’s thriving, he’s fed and healthy.

And a crushing pain that makes the phone slip and the air disappear.

I can’t breathe and someone’s making sucking, wheezing sounds. It’s not until the backs of my legs hit the bed I realize it’s me.

The pain is deep, spreading, and my hearts is squeezed and crushed into nothing.

This video is of a boy who’s adjusted to life without his mother, like he doesn’t care or remember me, like I’m nothing at all.

I’m gone, and he’s… happy.

The phone clatters to the floor as a sob breaks free. I look up and everything goes cold.

Triumph lights up Demyan’s face.

He wanted this reaction from me. He wanted me in pain, to feel like I want to die.

He wanted me to see Sasha thriving and happy without me.

The cruelty is almost beyond comprehension.

For long moments, I can’t move, and I know I’m shaking.

What I want is to lash out and hurt him, claw him, make him bleed. I want to rip his heart from his chest.

And I want him to never, ever teach the child he’s clearly taken from me to be like him. Sasha is good.

“What was that?” he asks.

I realize I spoke. “I said Sasha is good. There’s no bad in him. Don’t… don’t let him ever do this to someone.”

“You did it to me.”

Another sob breaks free. “Are you two? The world isn’t black-and-white, Demyan. Maybe what I did was wrong, but it was never this. Never vindictive. It wasn’t like I got knocked up deliberately to keep your child from you. I did… I didn’t look further after my brother told me to keep away. I never had your name. And he did that out of love, so leave him alone.”

“My issue is with you and your vile actions.”

“My…” I stop and take a shaking breath. “There are plenty of guys who’d be happy not to know or be financially responsible for an accident from a one-night stand. I’m not…”