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Oh my God.

Her brother had been killed by the Italians. And yet, she had welcomed me with open arms, without hesitation.

“Oh, Elif, I’m so sorry. I understand now why Grigori feels the way he does about our presence…”

“…No, that’s just because he’s an idiot sometimes,” she said with a soft smile, looping her arm through mine as we turned toward the boys, who were excitedly opening boxes near the car.

“Tarik… wasn’t born alone,” she murmured, sighing as she pulled her phone from her pocket and showed me a picture. A younger Elif, radiant, lying in a hospital bed—with two babies in her arms.

“Twins,” I realized, looking back at her. She nodded.

“A boy and a girl. Perfection. We later discovered that my little Elena had sickle cell disease, like my mother,” she continued, tears welling in her eyes.

Sickle cell disease—a genetic blood disorder. It caused fatigue, excruciating pain, swelling, vulnerability to infections… and for young children, it could be fatal.

“She cried every night, Selina. Every night. She suffered so much, and there was nothing I could do. Only medications to ease her pain. And on her fourth birthday, she…” Elif’s voice broke as she closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“Grigori was devastated. Tarik cried for months, feeling the absence of his sister. Even now, I think he still searches for her, as if something is missing from him. I want to keep him close, Selina. I know I must sound like a lunatic, but Tarik… he’s different for me,” she said, her jaw clenched, her gaze fixed on her eldest son.

“And you, Elif ? How did you survive such pain ?” I asked softly, wiping away the tears that had escaped despite my efforts. She looked at me in surprise, pressing her lips together.

She had married young, raised three boys while tending to a husband who, from what I’d gathered, hadn’t been the most gentle man. She’d lost her brother, then her daughter, and she lived each day with the fear of losing another loved one. How could she be this strong ?

“I… I don’t know. I had to keep moving forward, for Tarik, for Roman and Sasha, who were still so young. But… for a longtime, I didn’t want any more children. That’s why there’s such a big age gap between my sons. But when Ivan was born, I slowly started to feel a sense of peace again. Even though there will always be an emptiness—the place of my little Elena.” She smiled sadly, and I couldn’t stop myself from pulling her into my arms.

“You are so strong, Elif,” I whispered, and she hugged me back just as tightly. “We have no other choice. The Ivanov women must be strong,” she murmured, pulling back to look at me. “Nikolai couldn’t have made a better choice, Selina. I’m so happy for you both.” “…Thank you, Elif. Thank you for everything.”

“Alright, enough with the emotions ! Show me that ring again,” she said suddenly, grabbing my hand and inspecting the ring with utmost scrutiny. She offered a few critiques—mostly about the sapphire being too small, which made me laugh—while outside, the children’s joyful shouts echoed as they marveled at the gifts Tarik had brought them.

Chapter thirty-four

Nikolai

Grigori adjusted my bow tie while Roman kept trying to run a brush through my hair, determined to make it look neater—even though it was already perfect.

“Roman, I swear I’ll shove that brush so far down your throat it’ll take miners to dig it out,” I growled, snatching the comb from his hand and swinging it at him, but he dodged.

“Leave him alone, Roman. Getting married isn’t easy,” Grigori chuckled, turning to grab my navy-blue suit jacket after fixing my bow tie—but he froze when he saw Elif leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh really ? And what exactly is so hard about marriage, Grigori ? Taking care of a grumpy man who sometimes speaks before thinking ? Or maybe it’s carrying a child for nine months, nursing him, and raising the sons of that same man, only for them to grow up to be just like him ? Or perhaps it’s cleaning up after that man and his brothers, who act without thinking half the time. But wait ! I did all of that !” she exclaimed, stepping toward my brother in her deep green satin dress that accentuated her complexion and long dark hair cascading down her back.

“So tell me, Grigori Ivanov, what’s so hard about marriage ?” she murmured, and at the same time, Roman, Sasha, and I grimaced. These two, seriously.

“You look stunning,moy kotyonok, (my kitten) ” my brother replied, completely ignoring the question. No—actually, that idiot probably didn’t even register it. That was the Elif Ivanov effect on her husband.

She rolled her eyes but sidestepped him, grabbed my jacket from the hanger, and walked toward me with a warm smile that melted my heart. I turned my back to her, bending slightly so she could help me put it on, then faced her again.

She smoothed the lapels of my jacket with gentle hands, letting out a contented sigh.

“I told you, didn’t I ? To keep your eyes on the horizon so you wouldn’t miss your sun,” she said, and I couldn’t help but smile, remembering that moment.

It had been during Rasili’s gala when she told me those words. And when I looked up, Selina was there, stepping into the hall as if by magic.

“I always tell them that they should listen to your advice, but their skulls are too thick,” I said, smiling before kissing her cheek. She gently pushed me away, raising a playful eyebrow.

“Cut the charm, Niko. You’re all as dumb as each other.”

“That’s why we marry women who are both beautiful and intelligent, isn’t it,moybrat?” Grigori chimed in, wrapping his arms around his wife from behind. Elif allowed it, shaking her head but smiling slightly.