Chapter 49 Sima
SIMA
By the time I manage to drag myself out of bed, it’s way past noon.
Honestly, it’s all Petyr’s fault. Last night’s conversation was intense, and what came after… well. Even more intense.
When I blinked awake this morning, he was gone. Work, as usual.
So I got up. Fed Lilia, changed her, peppered her little face with kisses. Then I promptly fell back asleep.
Now, I’m late to my own feeding time. Which—very awkward phrasing, but having a newborn will do that to you. Rearrange your whole sleeping schedule and vocabulary.
It’s Anya’s day off, so a part of me exhales with relief. No need to walk-of-shame downstairs and endure death glares.
If she’d been around, I would have grabbed Lilia as my tiny human shield. Anya is never mean to me when the little princess of the house is around, not even in small, petty ways. Doesn’t so much as look at me wrong.
But with Anya elsewhere, I’m happy to leave Lilia where she is. Snuggled in her blankets, safe asleep.
When I reach the kitchen doorway, I stop dead.
Shit.
Kira.
I forgot that Anya isn’t the only malicious presence in the house. Forget ghosts—this is what a haunting looks like. Evil housekeeper on the left, evil sister-in-law on the right.
For a second, I consider skipping lunch altogether. But then my stomach growls like a dying animal. I haven’t had breakfast today, and if I don’t put some calories in me, I might start chewing the furniture.
I observe Kira. She’s standing by the counter, one hand braced on the edge, the other pressed against her face. I wonder if she’s got a migraine, or if her evil aura has started affecting her, too, but then I realize what’s happening.
She’s crying.
Her shoulders are shaking. Then come the sounds. Raw, broken sobs she can barely keep to herself. I feel like I’m seeing a baby elephant doing cartwheels or a seal teaching calculus. Something incompatible with my perception of reality.
For a moment, I wonder if it’s even her. She’s always so put together, so polished and sharp-edged, that seeing her fall apart doesn’t seem real.
My first instinct is to turn around and leave before she sees me. Forgo those calories and chew on Petyr’s pristine mahogany antiques, anything other than to put myself in her crosshairs right now.
We’ve never been close. At best, we tolerate each other. At worst, she goes out of her way to poke at me, to find some weakness she can use to get under my skin.
I take a half step back, ready to retreat…
And realize I can’t bring myself to. Not when she looks like this.
“Kira?” I say softly.
Her head jerks up. She blinks fast, swiping at her face, trying to erase the evidence. “Sima. I didn’t—” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat. “I didn’t hear you.”
I step inside slowly. “Are you okay?”
She gives a shaky laugh. “Do I look okay?”
“Not really, no.”
Neither of us moves. Then she exhales and stares down at the counter. “Sorry,” she whispers, which makes me want to book an instant visit to the ear doctor. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“You didn’t,” I say. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, unsure. There’s no bite in her expression this time, I realize. None of her usual scathing judgment. Just exhaustion.
Whatever this is, it’s real pain, not performance. I know that kind of hurt when I see it.
I glance toward the cupboard, then back at her. “You want some tea?”
Kira stares at me for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”
I pull out two mugs and set them down between us. The sound of ceramic clinking against the counter fills the silence.
As I fill the kettle, I catch her watching me. Not with suspicion, like she usually does. Just quiet curiosity. As if she’s trying to figure out what I’m really doing here.
I realize this might be the first time Kira’s been shown compassion. Real compassion.
If her upbringing was anything like mine, I don’t struggle to believe it.
“Thanks,” she says finally.
“Don’t mention it.” I offer her a small smile. “We all have bad days.”
“Yeah.” She laughs, which surprises me. “Some worse than others.”
I nod. The kettle starts to hum, and for a moment, the only sound in the kitchen is that soft, rising boil.
Once the water’s ready, I pour and drop in a pair of tea bags. The smell of chamomile fills the kitchen. I carry one of the mugs over to Kira.
She takes it with a quiet “Thank you,” her hands shaky as she wraps them around the cup.
I sit down across from her at the counter. The space between us feels strange. I don’t know what to say to her. I’m not used to seeing her like this.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask.
Kira blinks at me, like she doesn’t quite understand the question. I can’t blame her. I’ve never exactly gone out of my way to be kind to her, either.
She sniffles and brushes the back of her hand across her cheek. “No. Not really.”
I nod and wait for her to speak. I can tell she wants to. That she’s filled up to the brim with something and needs to unburden herself, but hasn’t yet decided if she trusts me enough for that.
She stares into the tea for a long moment before speaking again. “I went to see Dimitri this morning.”
My chest tightens. “How is he?”
Her lips press together. “Still struggling. The doctors keep saying he’s improving, but it’s slow.
Too slow. Some days, he’s alert, and I start to think we’re turning a corner.
Then the next day, he can barely speak. Petyr wants to bring him back to the house, but I don’t know.
He needs so much help. And watching him like that…
” She shakes her head. “It’s killing me, Sima.
I pray you never have to go through that. ”
I look down at my hands, tracing the rim of my cup with my thumb. I can’t imagine seeing Petyr like that. Strong one day, broken the next.
The thought alone sends a wave of panic through me. I understand her fear more than I want to admit.
But for me it’s a hypothetical, far and unlikely. To her, it’s reality. Her husband left one day and didn’t come back. Just pieces of him, struggling to fit together again.
Kira takes a deep breath. “You probably think I deserve it. After everything I’ve said to you.”
“Of course not,” I hurry to say. “No one deserves to go through something like this.”
“Not even your horrible sister-in-law?”
“You’re not horrible.” I’m surprised to realize that I mean it. “I think you’re exhausted. And scared. And, sometimes, we’re not at our best when we let fear take the wheel.”
Just look at what I did when I was scared, I think but don’t say.
Kira gives a hollow laugh, wipes her eyes again. “You’re not wrong.”
I take a slow sip of my tea before speaking. “I know it can’t be easy,” I continue. “Seeing him like that. And… living here. With me.”
“You mean the daughter of the man who did this to him.”
I nod. “Yeah. That.” I brace for her anger, but it doesn’t come.
Kira sighs. “It’s hard sometimes. I look at you and remember what happened to him. But then I remember you’re not your father. You’ve never been him. When I’m being rational, I know that.” Her fingers tighten around the cup. “But it’s difficult to stay rational sometimes.”
Her tone is softer now, and it throws me off-balance.
“I can’t blame you for what he did,” she adds. “It’s just… hard to forget.”
“I know.” Guilt fills me, the same that rose up when Luka confessed every horrible thing my family did to his. “If I were you, I’d probably feel the same.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re Saint Sima. Patron of squishy bits. Always ready to forgive.”
“Hey!” I realize I’m laughing. “I’m not that squishy.”
“True. You can bite.” She throws me an amused look. “But you never bite unprovoked. That’s more than I can say for most women in our shoes. Being raised Bratva… it changes you.”
My mother’s face flashes back into my mind. Then Lara’s. “Yeah,” I murmur. “It does.”
We sit there for a moment. The steam from our tea curls up between us.
This conversation feels surreal. And yet, it also feels honest. Like we’ve finally come to an understanding. Not quite forgiveness, maybe, but something close. A start.
Kira finishes the last of her tea. Her eyes are still red, but her breathing has evened out. When she finally looks at me, there’s a small, tired smile on her face. “Thank you,” she says softly. “For the tea. And for not walking away.”
I shrug, try to play it off. “Didn’t seem right to leave.”
“Well, I appreciate it. Really.”
There’s a pause, the kind that feels too long. I could leave now. I should leave. Pat myself on the back for a job well done, earn my gold star for the day.
But Kira still looks fraught, and I can’t leave her like this. I just can’t.
“If you need anything,” I hear myself say, “I’d be happy to help. Really. With Dimitri or—anything else.”
Kira blinks like she didn’t expect that. “Really?”
“Of course,” I say. “We’re family, aren’t we?”
The word catches in my throat. Family. It’s still new. Strange, in a way.
But I’d better get used to it again. Because that’s what Petyr and I have built. And it doesn’t stop at just Lilia and us. It involves Dimitri, and Kira, and any kids they might have in the future. They’re Petyr’s blood, and that makes them mine, too.
Kira seems taken aback, even more so than before. But then her lips curl upwards. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she looks almost smug, but it’s probably just a wobbly smile.
“You’re right. We are. And I’m glad we talked.”
“Me, too.”
It’s the truth. Making peace with Kira is a weight off my shoulders. One less source of tension in the household.
Maybe I’ll try watering Anya’s beloved rose bushes next. We might yet bond around organic fertilizers.
Kira stretches, like she’s been holding herself together for too long. “I’m going to lie down for a bit. Today’s been… a lot.”
“Of course,” I tell her. “Get some rest.”
She hesitates in the doorway before turning back. “Sima?”
“Yeah?”
“I meant what I said. I’m really glad we talked.”
I nod, and she disappears down the hall.
I rinse our mugs and venture back upstairs. In the nursery, Lilia’s still asleep. I lean over the crib and brush a curl of hair from her forehead. She sighs but doesn’t wake.
God, she’s the cutest in the whole world.
My words from earlier echo in my head. Family.
She deserves that. A family that loves her, one that doesn’t fall apart like mine did. If that means learning how to be kind to Kira, then that’s what I’ll do.
For Lilia.