Chapter 38 Sima
SIMA
The moment we step inside, something shifts.
The air feels lighter than it did before. The nervous tension that’s been gripping me since the hospital begins to ease.
I don’t know if it’s the familiar smell of the house or the way everyone seems genuinely happy to see us, but for the first time in days, I can finally breathe.
Everyone gathers in the entryway. I feel like Rafiki carrying baby Simba in front of the whole pride. And—is Anya actually smiling?
Oh my God. This is it. The end of the world. Not with a bang, but with Anya’s facial muscles remembering what it feels like to move vertically.
Anya moves closer, hands clasped together. I keep still like a helpless gazelle smack in the middle of the savannah, not a single tree to hide behind in sight.
“Bozhe moi,” she says softly, eyes bright with… Oh, fuck, are those tears? “She’s so pretty! A perfect little angel.”
“Yeah,” I say awkwardly. “Circle of life, huh?”
“Come,” she adds quickly, “you must be tired. I’ll bring tea, fresh sheets, maybe soup? You look too pale. And skinny. We need to put some meat on those bones if you’re going to give this little koshka a brother one day.”
“I’m fine,” I start to say, but she’s already bustling off, muttering something about heating water and finding the “nice” blankets.
God, where am I? Is this actually the Upside Down? Am I going to be communicating via blinking Christmas lights for the rest of my life?
“Look at that,” Luka whispers next to me. “You broke Anya.”
“I had no idea she could be broken.”
“Yeah.” He looks as confused as I feel. “Neither did I.”
“Can you, like, pinch me? Just an itty bitty bit?”
Luka goes deathly pale. His eyes dart to Petyr. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
Right. We don’t want Luka’s nose to be flattened again. He’s tall enough to pull off a perfect Lord Voldemort cosplay just with a head shave and a hoodie. No need to chase perfection.
I watch Anya go, still a little stunned. She was smiling. Still is.
Fuck. The world really has ended.
She keeps glancing back over her shoulder, checking on Lilia as she goes. It’s sweet, in a strange way. I didn’t expect it to feel this normal.
Even the men are different. The same ones who used to look at me like I didn’t belong now nod respectfully when they pass. Some even smile, awkward and small but real. It’s so fucking weird to see them soften this way.
Maybe it’s the baby. Maybe it’s Petyr’s ominous presence and the glares he keeps throwing everyone. Either way, the tension that used to sit heavy between me and the rest of the house is gone.
I’ve barely started to relax when I hear her voice from the hallway. “Is that them?”
Kira.
She appears in the doorway like the hologram of a pageant queen. If I thought Anya might pull a facial muscle, Kira’s smile is so wide that I start to wonder if she’s been swapped with a clone. Her dark hair is pulled into a loose bun, and she’s carrying a bouquet of pale pink flowers.
Flowers.
For me.
Sweet baby Jesus.
“There’s my niece!” she announces with a grin. “Is that her in there?”
I freeze and try really hard to remember what hemlock looks like. Because there’s no way she means it. Right?
The last time I saw Kira, she was calling me names. And now, she’s cooing over my baby?
Not to be crass, but bitch, please.
And yet her smile doesn’t waver. Either she’s nailed it on very hard, or it’s actually, seriously real.
It throws me off balance to see her like this. It feels too easy. Too sudden. Still, I manage a small smile. Kill them with kindness, right?
“She’s sleeping,” I say. “But you can look.”
Kira crosses the room without hesitation and peers into the crib. “Oh,” she breathes out. “She’s perfect.”
Her tone is soft. It sounds so sincere, for a second, I forget who I’m talking to.
She reaches for one tiny hand, careful not to wake her. “You made a beautiful baby, Sima.” Her smile turns to me. “Good job.”
I nod, uncertain what to say. The compliment sounds genuine, but part of me can’t forget the fact that, not too long ago, she was treating me like I didn’t deserve to be here at all.
But maybe this is her trying to mend fences. For Petyr’s sake. For the baby’s. Maybe she finally realized that, like it or not, we’re family.
And I really don’t want to mess that up again. Being family.
“You want to hold her?” I ask finally.
Kira stares at me like I’ve grown two heads. But then, slowly, her eyes brighten. “Can I?”
I hesitate for half a heartbeat before nodding. “Of course. Here…”
Carefully, I lift Lilia and pass her over. Kira picks her up gingerly. Her stance is perfect, too, the way she’s supporting her head so naturally. Like she’s had experience with babies before.
She rocks Lilia gently as she smiles down at her with pure tenderness. “What’s her name?”
“Lilia.”
“Lilia,” Kira hums. “Like Dimitri and Petyr’s mother. Your idea or his?”
“Both,” I say, trying not to sound too defensive. “We really liked the name.”
Kira doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she seems rapt. Her gaze doesn’t leave Lilia for a second. “She looks like Petyr,” she murmurs. “But her eyes… Those are yours.”
The compliment snags in my chest. I want to believe her. Want to trust this softer version of Kira. But part of me still feels the sting of our fraught history. Her scorn, her coldness, the way she always sided against me no matter what I said.
Still, I can’t afford to turn this olive branch away. If I want to make this family work, it needs to go both ways.
“You think so?”
“I know so.” She looks up at me, her smile still in place. “She’s going to have all of us wrapped around her little finger.”
Her voice is warm, and I can’t find a trace of hostility in it. Maybe things really have changed. Or maybe this peace is just another fragile moment waiting to break.
Guess I’ll have to wait and see.
For the rest of the day, the nursery keeps buzzing with activity.
Even the most hardened mobsters among Petyr’s entourage end up casually wandering in “for a security check” just to have an excuse to look at her or hold her.
Oleg, the scary guy with a full-length scar on his face who stopped me at the gate what feels like a lifetime ago, even chokes up a little.
The house feels alive in a way it hasn’t in months. For once, there’s no shouting, no tension humming under the surface. Everything almost feels normal. Like we’re just another happy family. It feels like peace has settled here, thin and fragile but real enough to touch.
If I didn’t know better, I could believe it.
Petyr stands a few steps away. He’s talking in low tones with one of his men. His voice is calm, but his eyes never stop moving. He watches everything: the door, the hallway, the windows.
And me.
Especially me.
Every time someone gets too close, his focus sharpens. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers flex, ready to react to the slightest threat.
Part of me feels safer because of it. He’s taking me seriously. He believes me, knows I’m not lying about what happened that night.
But the other part of me wishes he didn’t have to be this way. That could just exist like a normal couple with a new baby. Not like two people who’ve survived a war only to come home and keep fighting ghosts.
I’m relieved he trusts me now. It’s a lot from him. I know how rare Petyr’s trust is, and how precious. I know what happens when it’s lacking.
But now that I see how tightly he watches everyone, I almost wish I had been wrong and the push down the stairs really was just a bad dream.
Because the alternative makes my stomach twist.
Someone in this house lured me from my room and shoved me down the stairs, intending to hurt the baby at best or kill us both at worst. Every familiar face I pass could be the one who did it.
The thought crawls under my skin and won’t let go.
Had they meant to hurt me, though? Or was it just some cruel prank that went too far? I don’t know which is worse. I can still feel the hand at my back, the sudden weightless drop. The burn in my arm when I caught the banister.
If I hadn’t caught it—
I stop the thought before it can finish.
I look down at Lilia sleeping in my arms instead. Her breathing is soft. She doesn’t know fear yet. She has no idea what kind of world she’s been born into.
But she’s here, and she’s safe. That’s all that matters.
Still, every time Petyr’s eyes flick across the room, sharp and searching, I know he feels it too: Something inside these walls isn’t right.
We’re home, but it doesn’t feel like home.
Not anymore.