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Sasha not missing me.

And I hate it.

Not that I want my child to hurt or be sad. But it’s like he forgot me in this short period of time.

“Selfish fucking thing,” I whisper to myself.

At least I have a change of clothes, a sundress, from my case. I don’t even remember packing it. But Olga brought it with a brush and my toiletries and… What the hell am I meant to think about that?

Good? Bad? A sign he’s keeping me here for the foreseeable future.

Heartless, hard, a man of ice and stone.

I swallow.

Except… Except last night I picked something up, a small thing, like a glimmer of hope. The faint hint of pride and softness when I spoke about Sasha. That male idiocy when I told him, there’s only been him so that’s how I know who Sasha belongs to.

That and Sasha looks like we made him. He has his father’s stubborn streak because it must be stubbornness keeping me locked up, stubbornness in Demyan’s search for something real to blame me for, and he has Demyan’s eyes and hair.

But what use is any of that if I’m trapped in here?

None at all.

But the worst thing is, when I opened up to Demyan and his eagerness to know about the birth, about his son did something to me.

I should have insisted on letting him know.

I’ve robbed the man of two years and I know how precious that time was; it’s something I treasure. So how must he feel, knowing…

“You know how he feels, and I didn’t rob him. I didn’t know how he’d react.”

Saying the words out loud doesn’t exactly help. They don’t assuage the guilt I’m suddenly feeling. I shouldn’t, I know that. Things happen and I didn’t do a vindictive thing. Unlike him.

But I can see how and why he’s being like he is. Perhaps not the whole picture as I know nothing of his past, but sure, I see how he’s feeling like this.

It’s Sasha.

Anyone would want to be part of his life.

Especially his biological father.

He’s angry.

And I hope to God he puts Sasha’s needs first, not his.That’s what I’m trying to do. It’s what any good parent would do. And if I can’t see him, all I can do is hope and pray Demyan loves him like I do.

I can’t see why he wouldn’t.

Sasha’s very loveable.

Voices outside my door infiltrate and I go still. Male voices. Is that Demyan?

My heart is beating hard and wild as the door opens and he walks in. As always, he sucks the space in the room into him and it’s just me and him and nothing else.

I can’t breathe as I try to stand, my heart caught in my throat.

“Demyan? Is everything all right? Is Sasha okay?”

He doesn’t answer, just studies me. Then he nods. “He’s fine.”