Epilogue Sima
TWO YEARS LATER
The little plus sign stares up at me from the counter.
For a second, I just blink at it. Wait for my brain to catch up with my eyes, because what? That can’t be it. We’ve been trying for, like, two months. Three, tops.
But the test doesn’t change.
Positive.
My pulse picks up. I let out a shaky laugh and cover my mouth with both hands.
When I look up, my reflection in the mirror looks as stunned as I feel: wide-eyed, half-smiling, hair a mess. A perfect picture of disbelief.
I knew it. It’s early, but deep down, I knew. I’ve felt it for a week now: the nausea in the mornings, the exhaustion that hits out of nowhere and sends me straight to Nap Land. That strange, low pull in my belly that I remember too well.
The same signs I had when I was pregnant with Lilia.
Still, seeing it written there, clear as day, makes it real.
I’m pregnant. Again.
I rest a hand on my stomach, like I might feel something already. It’s too soon, of course. My future baby is still a tiny clump of cells, the size of a poppy seed at most. But still, my fingers linger.
Part of me wishes we’d had more time to try. Not because I didn’t want this. After two years, I feel more than ready. It’s just that it’s, well… fun. To try.
But apparently, when Petyr sets his mind to something, even nature listens.
I laugh again, softer this time. Nerves fizz beneath my skin, a mix of excitement and pure terror.
Then I grab the test, tuck it into my palm, and head for the door.
The house is quiet this morning. Sunlight streams through the hall windows. I can hear faint voices from downstairs. Petyr and Dimitri, probably, plus the delighted squeal of Lilia’s laughter.
The last two years have been kind to us. Kinder than I ever dared to hope.
As I walk downstairs, my gaze snatches on a text.
From Lara.
Still on for brunch with the little ones, Sisi?
My heart goes warm and fuzzy. After Petyr offered to get Lara out, things moved quickly. I don’t know the details, but what I do know is that, one night, she was at the door, her kids in tow. My sister. The one I thought I’d lost for good.
She’s thriving now, and so are her kids. The dark circles under her eyes are gone, replaced by laughter I hadn’t heard since we were girls.
She visits often, and Lilia adores her cousins. Watching them play in the garden, hearing their giggles echo through the courtyard—it’s the best feeling in the world. It feels like healing.
I type back a quick reply: You know it!!! I’ll drag Maks along too.
Petyr’s partnership with my brother has been good so far. Profitable, stable. Between them, they’ve turned what used to be rival territories into a fortress.
Petyr has learned how to delegate more, how to breathe. I’ve learned how to stop waiting for the floor to fall out from under me.
And us? Somehow, we’re better than ever.
Petyr kept every promise he made. No more secrets between us. He swore our daughter would never be a pawn in any of his dealings, and he meant it.
For the first time in my life, I know I’m safe. And that she is, too.
I follow the sound of laughter down the hall.
It’s not often you hear that kind of noise coming from Petyr’s office, but lately, it’s been happening more and more.
Lilia likes wandering downstairs now that she’s finally allowed to walk down the steps like a big girl, and she always knows how to distract her dad from his all-important work.
When I reach the doorway, I lean against the frame and suppress a grin.
Petyr’s not at his desk. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Dimitri, surrounded by a sea of brightly colored Lego blocks. Lilia is right in the middle of them, face scrunched in concentration as she balances another piece on top of an already massive tower.
It’s lopsided. Teetering dangerously to one side. But Dimitri’s holding it steady, smiling as he offers her another piece. “Here,” he says, voice still rough from those long months of disuse. “Try this one.”
She beams up at him. “Thank you, Uncle Mitya!”
Petyr chuckles under his breath. “That thing’s going to collapse before she’s halfway done.”
“Not if you stop talking and help,” I call out.
He glances over his shoulder, and a huge smirk spreads slowly across his face. “Caught us.”
My heart flutters at the sight. Even after two years, I still haven’t gotten used to Petyr’s unguarded smile.
“Hardly.” I step closer. “You’re building a skyscraper in the middle of the office. I could’ve heard you from the garden.”
Lilia looks up at me and jumps up. “Mama, we’re making a castle!” Her dark curls bounce up and down with the motion.
“Of course you are.” I crouch down beside her. “Looks very structurally ambitious.”
Petyr laughs, reaches for another block, and adds it to the top. “See? Stable as ever.”
The tower wobbles once. Twice.
Then it promptly topples over.
Bricks scatter all across the floor. Lilia gasps, hands on her cheeks like a real-life scream emoji. “Papa!”
“Not my fault,” he says, hands raised in mock innocence. “Your mother jinxed it.”
Her pout is quick, but her giggle comes quicker. Dimitri’s laughter joins hers. Low, genuine, soft around the edges. It’s a sound I don’t think any of us thought we’d ever hear again.
Dimitri’s recovery has been nothing short of a miracle. It took months of therapy, countless specialists, and a stubborn refusal to quit, but he made it. He walks with only a slight limp now, his speech slow but clear. And while he never talks about Kira, he doesn’t seem to miss her, either.
He looks at peace.
As I watch the three of them horse around together in a mess of color and laughter, something warm fills my chest. A sensation I used to think I wasn’t built for.
The feeling of being home.
Petyr glances up again and catches the look on my face. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, smile still in place. “Just taking a picture in my head.”
“Of what?”
“This,” I say softly. “All of it.”
He studies me for a long second, eyes dark and soft all at once. Then he stands, steps over the wreckage of Lego blocks, and pulls me into his arms.
Lilia cheers from the floor. “Mama and Papa are hugging!”
“Scandalous,” Dimitri murmurs.
Petyr chuckles and presses a kiss against my hair. “You heard the critic,” he says. “Better not give them a show.”
I swat at his chest, but I’m smiling so wide it hurts.
Then I remember why I came here in the first place. “Petyr,” I say softly. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He frowns, already on high alert. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s perfect,” I assure him. “Just… come with me?”
He exchanges a look with Dimitri, who shrugs and grins. “I’ll hold the fort. Lilia’s got big plans for the castle’s reconstruction.”
“Don’t let her talk you into a moat,” Petyr advises from the doorway.
“Too late,” Dimitri answers dryly.
I hide a smile and lead Petyr out into the foyer. Once we’re far enough from the noise, I turn to face him. My palms are suddenly clammy, and my heart won’t slow down.
“Sima?” I can hear the concern in his voice. “What is it?”
I step forward, heart racing, and hold out the test. “We’re having another baby.”
Petyr blinks. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe. Basically stops every life function in his body.
Fuck. I probably should have eased him into it. Made a little cupcake with the stick jabbed inside like a candle. Given him time to process.
Oh, well. Notes for next time.
Right now, he just keeps staring at me, enough that I start to wonder if I did something wrong. If maybe he changed his mind about a second child.
Then his eyes widen, and the tension in his face breaks into a look of pure joy. “You’re serious? Already?”
Relief breaks through me. I nod, tears already in my eyes. “I am.”
In the next second, his arms are around me. I melt into him, laughter and tears tangled in my throat. His mouth finds mine in a kiss that’s filled with the kind of joy that makes my heart ache.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. “Blyat’, lisichka. You make me the happiest bastard alive.”
“I try,” I laugh.
“No, you do.” His voice turns intense. “You’re everything, Sima.”
My heart skips a beat, and he kisses me again. Two years, ten years, a thousand—it doesn’t matter. I’ll never stop melting into Petyr’s kisses like it’s the first time.
When he finally pulls back, I can’t help grinning through my tears.
His hand drifts to my stomach, palm flat, warm. Like that night two years ago, when I took his hand and made him feel his daughter moving in my belly. Now, he has the same quiet awe in his eyes.
“It’s a boy,” I tell him smugly.
He tilts his head, amused. “Yeah? And you know this how?”
“Because I just do.” I shrug. “I knew Lilia was a girl right away, and I was right. I just… feel it. This one’s different.”
Petyr’s smile softens. “Then I’ll trust your instincts.” He brushes a thumb across my cheek.
“Does that make you happy?” I ask, heart in my throat. “Having a boy?”
“It does,” he says. “But I’d be just as happy with another girl.”
My throat tightens. “You mean that?”
“Of course.” His voice is firm, certain. “As long as they have you for a mother, either one will be perfect.”
I lean into him. My heart is overflowing. “I love you.” It comes out easy. “So much.”
Petyr tucks me into his chest. I can hear the steady beat of his heart, the strong thump-thump-thump I’ve been falling asleep to for two years’ worth of nights.
“That’s my line.” He kisses the top of my head. “I love you, little fox. Thank you for everything you’ve given me.”
That’s my line, I want to say, but don’t. There’s no need. We both know how we feel about each other.
I never wanted a Bratva husband. After the way I was brought up, the mere idea was the stuff of nightmares for me.
But I can’t imagine another life that would make me this happy.
Petyr’s it for me.
Always has been.
Always will be.