Chapter 24 Anna
ANNA
Sunday morning smells like pancakes and coffee.
I come downstairs to find Luca at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping pancakes while Alexei stands on a step stool beside him, carefully pouring batter into the pan. Mila sits at the kitchen island, swinging her legs and eating strawberries straight from the bowl.
“Mama!” She waves a strawberry at me. “Papa is teaching Alexei how to make pancakes!”
She says it so naturally now. Like he’s always been Papa and never anything else.
“I can see that. Are you helping?”
“I’m the taste tester. It’s a very important job.”
Luca glances over his shoulder at me. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
He’s barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt. Hair still damp from the shower. Completely at ease in this domestic scene, like he’s been making Sunday pancakes for years instead of weeks.
“This one is ready,” Alexei announces. He slides the pancake onto a plate with Luca’s guidance. “Can I do another?”
“One more. Then it’s your sister’s turn.”
“I don’t want a turn,” Mila says. “I want to eat pancakes.”
“You can do both.”
I pour myself coffee and lean against the counter. Watch my son concentrate on pouring batter in a perfect circle. Watch Luca’s hand hover near Alexei’s in case he needs help, but not interfering. Watch my daughter steal another strawberry and grin at me like she’s getting away with something.
This is my life now. Somehow.
The front door opens. Footsteps in the hallway. Maxim appears in the kitchen doorway carrying a bag from the bakery. “I brought pastries,” he says. “Am I late?”
“Right on time,” Luca tells him. “Grab a plate.”
Maxim has been showing up for Sunday breakfast for three weeks now. At first, the twins were wary. Now Mila runs to hug him when he arrives, and Alexei immediately starts talking about whatever he’s building.
This morning is no different. Mila abandons her strawberries to show Maxim the flower she picked yesterday. Alexei launches into an explanation of his latest train track modification.
Maxim listens to both of them with patience I didn’t think he had. Asks questions. Acts interested. Stays until after lunch, helping with whatever project the twins have invented.
We eat breakfast together, all five of us. Pancakes, pastries, and fruit. The twins chatter. Maxim engages with them. Luca pours more coffee and touches the small of my back when he passes behind my chair.
Small casual touches happen now. His hand on my shoulder. My fingers brushing his when we pass things. Standing close enough to feel the heat of his body.
Things I never thought I’d have with him.
Things I’m terrified to want.
After breakfast, I tell the twins we’re visiting Grandma and Grandpa.
“Can Papa come?” Mila asks.
I glance at Luca. He raises an eyebrow. Asking without words.
“Not this time,” I say. “Just us today.”
The drive to my parents’ house takes thirty minutes. The twins talk the entire time about pancakes and Maxim and the train track and a hundred other things. I listen and respond and try not to think about how different this is from four months ago.
Four months ago, I was living in this house. Single mother with twins. Dependent on my parents. Working part-time jobs. Surviving day to day.
Now I’m married. Living in an estate. My children have a father who reads to them every night. I sleep in my husband’s bed more nights than not.
My husband. When did I start thinking of him that way?
We pull into my parents’ driveway. The house looks smaller than I remember. Shabby. The paint is peeling near the windows. The garden needs weeding.
My mother opens the door before we reach it. “Anna! And my babies!” Mila and Alexei run to her. She hugs them both. Kisses their heads. Looks over them at me. “You look wonderful,” she says.
“I look the same.”
“No. You look happy. Come inside.”
My father is in the living room with tea already poured. He hugs the twins. Shakes my hand awkwardly like he doesn’t know how to greet his daughter anymore.
We sit. The twins immediately start telling their grandparents about everything. Papa teaching pancakes. Maxim bringing pastries. The train track. The flowers. Their words tumble over each other in excitement.
My parents listen. Smile. But I see the tension in my father’s shoulders. The way my mother’s hands twist together in her lap.
“They seem happy,” my mother says when the twins run off to play in the backyard.
“They are.”
“And you?”
I take a sip of tea. “I’m adjusting.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
My father stands. “I’ll check on the twins.”
He leaves. My mother waits until the door closes behind him. “Talk to me,” she says. “Really, talk to me. How are you?”
“I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Try.”
I set down the teacup. “Four months ago, you and Papa told me I had to marry a stranger to save the family. I hated you for it. Hated him. Hated everything about the situation.”
“And now?”
“Now the twins call him Papa. Now Maxim brings pastries on Sunday mornings. Now I wake up in Luca’s bed, and it doesn’t feel wrong anymore.”
My mother reaches across and takes my hand. “That’s good, Anna. That’s very good.”
“Is it? Because I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose him. And now I’m falling for someone who forced me into marriage and threatened to take my children.”
“But he didn’t take them. He became their father instead.”
“That doesn’t erase what he did.”
“No. It doesn’t. But it shows he’s capable of change. Of choosing family over power.”
“Is he? Or is he just good at making me believe that?”
My mother squeezes my hand. “What does your gut tell you?”
I think about Luca reading bedtime stories. Building train tracks. Wearing the flower crowns Mila makes. Asking me about having more children like he’s planning a future with me.
“My gut tells me he means it, but I’m scared to trust it.”
“Of course you are. Men like Luca don’t change easily. They don’t give up power or control without reason. The fact that he’s doing it at all is remarkable.”
“But will it last? Or will he wake up one day and decide this was all a mistake?”
“I don’t know. No one knows. Marriage is always a risk.”
“This isn’t a normal marriage.”
“No. But it’s yours. And from what I’m seeing, it’s working. The twins are thriving. You’re happier than I’ve seen you in years. Luca is present and committed. That’s more than many marriages have.”
“He still does terrible things. He had my friend threatened. He kills people who cross him. He runs criminal operations.”
“I know. Your father and I know exactly who Luca Volkov is. We knew when we made this arrangement. But he’s also the man making pancakes with your son on Sunday mornings. Both things can be true.”
“How do I reconcile that?”
“By accepting that people are complicated. That good men do bad things and bad men do good things. That your husband is both the criminal who forced this marriage and the father who reads dragon stories to his children.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be reassuring. It’s meant to be honest.” She leans forward. “Anna, listen to me. If you’re falling for him, let yourself fall. Don’t hold back out of fear or pride. Life is too short to waste on what-ifs.”
“What if he hurts me?”
“Then you survive it. Like you’ve survived everything else. But what if he doesn’t? What if this is real and you’re too scared to let yourself have it?”
“I don’t know if I can trust him.”
“Then start small. Trust him with the twins. You already do that. Trust him with the small moments. Build from there.”
“And if he breaks that trust?”
“Then you’ll handle it. But give him the chance to earn it first.”
The back door opens. The twins run in with my father following. Mila has grass stains on her dress. Alexei’s hands are covered in dirt.
“Grandpa showed us the vegetable garden!” Mila announces. “Can we have a garden at home?”
Home. She calls the estate home now.
“We can ask Papa,” I say.
“He’ll say yes,” Alexei says confidently. “Papa always says yes to gardens.”
My mother smiles at me. “See? You’re already trusting him with the important things.”
We stay another hour. The twins play. My father talks about the shipping company and how Luca has been restructuring operations. My mother makes sandwiches no one is hungry for, but we eat anyway because that’s what you do at your parents’ house.
When it’s time to leave, my mother walks us to the car. The twins climb in. She pulls me aside. “Be careful,” she says quietly. “I meant what I said about giving him a chance. But don’t lose yourself in the process. Men like Luca are used to control. Make sure you keep some for yourself.”
“I will.”
“And, Anna? If you’re happy, let yourself be happy. You deserve that.”
She hugs me. Kisses my cheek. Waves at the twins as we pull away.
On the drive home, Mila falls asleep against the window. Alexei plays with his toy train. I think about my mother’s words.
Give him a chance. Don’t lose yourself. Let yourself be happy.
All easier said than done.
The estate comes into view. Home. When did I start thinking of it that way?
We pull into the driveway. Luca is outside with Maxim, looking at something on a tablet. They both look up when the car stops.
Luca walks over and opens my door. “How was the visit?”
“Good. The twins told them about pancakes.”
“I’m sure Viktor was thrilled.”
“Actually, he seemed happy. They’re both happy that the twins are happy.”
Alexei climbs out of the backseat. “Papa, can we have a garden? Grandpa has vegetables, and Mila wants flowers.”
“We can have a garden. We’ll plan it this week.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Alexei runs off to tell Maxim about the garden plan. Luca helps me get sleeping Mila out of her car seat. She doesn’t wake. Just curls against his chest while he carries her inside.
I follow them up to her room. Watch him lay her down gently. Pull off her grass-stained dress and tuck her under the covers. Kiss her forehead.
He’s good at this. Being a father. Being present.
Being mine.
We leave Mila’s room. Stand in the hallway between the twins’ doors.
“My mother said something,” I tell him.
“What?”
“That I look happy.”
“Do you? Feel happy?”
I think about that. About Sunday pancakes and flower crowns and bedtime stories. About small touches, late nights, and plans for gardens and more children.
“Yes,” I say. “I think I do.”
He pulls me closer. Kisses me. Soft and unhurried.
“Good,” he says against my mouth.
Downstairs, I hear Alexei shouting about garden plans. Maxim laughing. Normal family chaos. My family.
Maybe my mother is right. Maybe I should let myself have this. Let myself be happy even though I didn’t choose it, even though it started wrong.
Maybe this is what happens when you stop fighting and start living.
“Come on,” Luca says, taking my hand. “Alexei wants to show me his garden blueprint.”