Chapter 20 Anna
ANNA
Three Weeks Later
I find them in the library.
Alexei is on the floor with his train set spread across the entire rug. The wooden tracks loop and curve in an elaborate pattern that must have taken him an hour to build. Luca sits cross-legged beside him, holding a bridge piece while Alexei decides where it goes.
“Here,” Alexei says, pointing. “The train needs to go under.”
Luca positions the bridge. Alexei tests it by running a train car through. It fits. He grins.
I watch from the doorway. Neither of them has noticed me yet.
“Now the station,” Alexei announces. He’s bossy when he’s focused. Always has been. “It goes at the end so the train can stop.”
“Where’s the end?”
“Here.” Alexei crawls across the rug and taps a spot near the bookshelf. “This is the city. The train brings people to the city.”
“What city?”
“I don’t know. Just a city.”
Luca picks up the wooden station building and hands it to him. Alexei places it carefully, adjusting the angle until it’s exactly right.
Three weeks ago, Alexei wouldn’t even look at Luca. Ran from rooms when he entered. Now he’s sprawled on the floor planning train routes like they’ve been doing this forever.
I don’t know when the shift happened. When my son stopped seeing Luca as the man who made his mother cry and started seeing him as someone who knows how to build train tracks.
Luca glances up and spots me. “How long have you been standing there?”
“A few minutes. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Alexei looks over. “Mama, look! We made a whole city!”
“I see that. It’s very impressive.”
“Luca helped.”
“I can tell.”
My son goes back to his trains. Luca stands, brushing off his jeans. He’s dressed casually today. No suit. Just dark jeans and a blue henley that makes him look younger than fifty.
“Where’s Mila?” I ask.
“Garden with Elena. She wanted to pick flowers.”
“She’ll pick every flower in the garden if no one stops her.”
“Elena knows. She’ll redirect before that happens.”
We stand there in awkward silence while Alexei makes train sounds and rolls cars along the tracks.
This is new too. The silence between us isn’t as sharp anymore. Less like standing on broken glass. More like breathing the same air without choking on it.
“I’m making lunch,” I say finally. “Sandwiches. Do you want one?”
“Sure.”
I turn to leave. His voice stops me.
“Anna.”
I look back.
“He’s good at this. Building things. Planning routes. He has your focus but he thinks like me.”
“Is that a compliment or an observation?”
“Both.”
I leave before the conversation can go anywhere else.
The kitchen smells like fresh bread. Cook made it this morning. I slice it thick and layer turkey, cheese, and lettuce. Simple. Normal. The kind of lunch I used to make in my parents’ tiny kitchen before all of this.
Mila bursts through the door with dirt on her dress and flowers in both fists. “Mama! Look what I picked!”
“They’re beautiful, baby.”
“Can we put them in water? Elena said we need to put them in water or they’ll die.”
“We can do that. Go wash your hands first.”
She runs to the sink. I find a vase in the cabinet and fill it. Mila brings me the flowers one by one, carefully, like they’re made of glass.
“This one is for you,” she says, handing me a yellow daisy. “And this one is for Alexei. And this one is for…” She pauses. Looks down at the pink flower in her hand. “Can I give one to Luca?”
My chest tightens. “If you want to.”
“He likes flowers?”
“I don’t know. You can ask him.”
She nods seriously and sets the pink flower aside. “I’ll ask.”
Three weeks ago, Mila cried every time Luca walked into a room. Now she’s picking flowers for him.
I finish making sandwiches and call everyone to the kitchen. Alexei comes first, train car still clutched in his hand. Then Luca. Then Elena with Mila.
We eat at the kitchen table instead of the formal dining room. Mila chatters about the garden. Alexei describes his train city in exhaustive detail. Luca listens to both of them with patience I didn’t know he had.
I watch him cut Mila’s sandwich into triangles without her asking. Watch him nod at Alexei’s explanation of why the bridge needs to be exactly where he put it. Watch him exist in this space with my children like he belongs here.
Maybe he does.
The thought terrifies me.
That evening, bath time turns into a water fight.
I’m trying to wash Alexei’s hair when he splashes me. I splash back. Mila, already in her pajamas and supposedly finished with her bath, jumps back in fully clothed and soaks everything.
By the time I get them both out, dried, and into clean pajamas, the bathroom looks like a flood zone. Water everywhere. Wet towels. Their clothes in a sopping pile.
I’m on my hands and knees mopping up water when Luca appears in the doorway. “Need help?”
“I’ve got it.”
He picks up the wet towels anyway. Grabs the dirty clothes and takes them to the hamper. Comes back with dry towels and helps me soak up the rest of the water.
We work in silence. His shoulder brushes mine. I’m hyperaware of how close he is. How domestic this moment is. The two of us cleaning up after bath time like regular parents.
When the floor is dry, I stand. So does he.
“Thank you,” I say.
“It’s fine.”
“No, I mean…for helping. With them. You don’t have to.”
“They’re my children. Why wouldn’t I help?”
“Most men wouldn’t. Most men would consider bath time, train sets, and flower picking beneath them.”
“I’m not most men.”
“No. You’re not.”
He’s standing too close. I can smell his cologne. See the silver in his hair catching the bathroom light. Feel the heat coming off his body.
I step back. “I should get them to bed.”
“I’ll help.”
The twins’ bedtime routine is chaos on good nights. Tonight is a good night.
Mila wants three stories. Alexei wants his train tucked into bed with him. They both want water, and the nightlight on, and their doors open exactly four inches.
I handle Mila. Luca takes Alexei. I’m finishing the third story when I hear Luca’s voice through the wall. Low. Steady. Reading.
Mila is already asleep, clutching her stuffed rabbit. I kiss her forehead and pull the blanket up. Leave the nightlight on. The door open four inches exactly.
In the hallway, I pause outside Alexei’s room.
Luca sits on the edge of the bed. Alexei is tucked in with his train car on the pillow beside him. Luca holds a book I don’t recognize. Something about dragons.
His voice changes when he reads. Softer. Warmer. He does different voices for each character. Alexei’s eyes are heavy, but he fights sleep to hear the end.
I lean against the doorframe and watch.
Luca finishes the chapter and closes the book. “Tomorrow we’ll read the next part.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Even if you have work?”
“Even if I have work.”
Alexei considers this. “Okay.”
“Goodnight, Alexei.”
“Goodnight… Papa.”
The word hangs in the air.
Luca goes very still. Alexei has never called him that before. Never called him anything except Luca or, in the beginning, “the man.”
“Goodnight,” Luca says again. Quieter this time. He stands and turns off the lamp. Adjusts the nightlight. Leaves the door open exactly four inches.
When he turns, he sees me in the hallway. We don’t speak. Just stand there looking at each other while our son sleeps six feet away.
Then Luca walks past me toward the stairs.
I follow.
In the hallway downstairs, he stops. Turns to face me. “He called me Papa.”
“I heard.”
“He’s never done that before.”
“No.”
“Does it bother you?”
I think about that. Three weeks ago, it would have.
Now?
“No,” I say. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“You’re sure?”
“You’re his father. He should be able to call you that.”
Luca looks at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying. “Something changed.”
“What?”
“You. Us. This.” He gestures vaguely between us. “Three weeks ago, you would have fought me on this.”
“Three weeks ago, I hadn’t watched you build train sets and pick flowers and read bedtime stories. I hadn’t seen you be patient with them when they’re difficult. I hadn’t watched you be their father instead of just claiming to be their father.”
“And that changed your mind?”
“It made me realize I was wrong. About some things.”
“What things?”
“I thought you’d hurt them. I thought being near you would damage them. I thought the only way to keep them safe was to keep them away from you.”
“And now?”
“Now I see them happy. Alexei called you Papa. Mila picks you flowers. They’re not scared anymore. And that’s because you showed up. You put in the work. You earned their trust.”
“What about yours?”
The question catches me off guard. “What?”
“Did I earn your trust?”
I don’t answer immediately. Can’t answer immediately.
Because the truth is complicated. The truth is, I’m standing here watching my children love their father and feeling something crack open inside my chest. The truth is I don’t hate him anymore and that terrifies me more than the hate ever did.
“I’m working on it,” I say finally.
He nods. Accepts the non-answer for what it is.
Then he steps closer. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to look at him.
“Anna—” A phone rings. His phone. He pulls it out, looks at the screen, and his entire expression changes. “I have to take this.”
He walks away before I can respond. I hear his office door close down the hall.
I stand alone in the hallway where moments ago everything felt different. Upstairs, I can hear Mila talking in her sleep. Nonsense words about flowers and rabbits.
I go to my room and close the door. Sit on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands.
Something is changing between us. Has been changing for weeks. Tonight felt like the moment it became real. The moment I couldn’t pretend anymore that this was just survival. Just making the best of a bad situation.
My children love their father.
And I’m starting to feel something for my husband that isn’t hatred.
A knock on my door makes me jump.
“Anna.” Luca’s voice through the wood. “I need to go out. Pavel is handling something, and I need to be there.”
I open the door. He’s already changed into a suit. All business.
“How long will you be gone?”
“A few hours. Maybe longer. Don’t wait up.”
“Be careful.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
He pauses and looks at me. “Why?”
“Because the twins need you. They just got you. It would hurt them if something happened.”
“Just the twins?”
I don’t answer.
He reaches out and touches my face. Brief. Gentle. Then he’s gone.
I close the door and lean against it.
My heart is pounding, and I don’t know why.