Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Anna
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtain gaps into the room. I slowly opened my eyes.
The space beside me was empty—Alexander was already gone.
A wave of disappointment washed over me. Was last night real? Or just a beautiful dream?
I reached out and touched the pillow where his warmth still lingered, and my lips curved into an involuntary smile. Not a dream—it was all real. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions churning inside me. This had all happened so suddenly—I wasn't ready for this kind of change.
I glanced at the bedside clock and bolted upright—eight-thirty already! I usually got up at seven to make Sofia's breakfast and get her to daycare.
Damn it, Sofia must be starving!
I threw on clothes and rushed downstairs, my mind racing with explanations for why I'd overslept.
But when I burst into the kitchen, the scene before me stopped me cold.
Alexander stood at the stove flipping eggs while Sofia sat at the table, happily eating cut fruit. Fresh bread and juice were arranged perfectly on the table.
"Mommy's a sleepyhead!" Sofia giggled when she saw me. "Alex said you needed more sleep, so he made me breakfast!"
Alexander turned with a gentle smile. "Good morning, Anna. Yekaterina had to leave early, but come eat—yours is almost ready."
Warmth flooded my chest.
This feeling... this cozy family picture was something I'd never experienced.
For five years, every morning had been me alone, handling everything myself.
Even when Yekaterina helped occasionally, that was just a friend's assistance—not family sharing the load.
But now someone was making me breakfast, keeping Sofia company, naturally taking on the role of father and partner.
"Thank you," I said, my voice catching.
Alexander caught my emotional shift. When he handed me coffee, his fingers brushed my hand—a touch too subtle for Sofia to notice but enough to make my heart race. "Nothing to thank me for. This is what I should do."
His touch calmed me, lifting my spirits like magic.
We sat around the table while Sofia excitedly shared the new stories Alexander had taught her. I watched it all, my heart full of happiness.
Under the table, Alexander gently rested his foot against mine. I glanced at him, but he kept eating as if nothing had happened. I looked down to cut my eggs, hiding my irrepressible smile. Sofia was completely absorbed in her storytelling, oblivious to our silent exchange.
But reality intruded soon enough.
"God, I need to get to work," I checked the time. "I already took three days off with Sofia. I have to go back today."
Familiar pressure settled back onto my shoulders. Work at the paper wasn't easy, and three days off had already put me behind.
But then...
I looked at Sofia with concern. "Sweetie, you should skip daycare today and rest at home. But if Mommy's not here..."
I didn't finish, but my worry was obvious. Sofia was much better, but I still couldn't bear the thought of leaving her alone.
"I can work from home," Alexander read my hesitation and concern. "Stay with her. I have my laptop—I can handle company business remotely."
"But your work—" I knew his position carried heavy responsibilities. He shouldn't delay them for us.
"Anna," he said gently but firmly, "nothing's more important than taking care of our— Sofia. My work is flexible, but Sofia needs someone with her."
I caught what Alexander had almost said—our girl. It made my heart race.
Sofia looked between Alexander and me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "That's right! Sofia is Alex's important person!"
Hearing Sofia's innocent words, I couldn't help but laugh. Alexander laughed too.
I looked at him, my voice carrying a dependence I didn't even recognize. "Really? You can do that?"
"Of course. Go ahead and work without worry. We'll be here when you get back."
Emotion nearly overflowed from my chest. I instinctively wanted to give him a goodbye kiss but caught myself. Instead, I reached out to straighten his collar—an action that might look like casual friendship to Sofia but was loaded with unspoken feeling for us.
"Thank you," I said softly. Our eyes met briefly, then quickly parted.
Sofia clapped and cheered. "Yay! Alex is staying with me all day!"
Leaving home, I looked back at them once.
Alexander was helping Sofia fix her hair—such a harmonious picture I almost couldn't bear to leave.
He looked up at me, his lips curving in an almost invisible smile, his fingers giving a tiny wave where Sofia couldn't see.
This secret little goodbye brightened my mood.
At the newspaper, I tried focusing on work, but my thoughts kept drifting home.
I kept imagining what Alexander and Sofia were doing together, how they were getting along.
This distraction was unusual—for five years, I'd trained myself to focus completely at work because I knew Sofia was safe at daycare.
But now, even though she was home with someone caring for her, I felt a different kind of pull.
Today's assignment was following up on a story about controversial urban demolitions.
I brought my camera to the demolition site, where residents and reporters had already gathered.
Tension filled the air as residents held signs and voiced their complaints loudly.
Government workers tried maintaining order while explaining the demolition's necessity.
I forced myself into work mode, but an inexplicable unease kept gnawing at me. I constantly adjusted my camera settings, capturing key moments from the scene. As a reporter, I needed to stay objective while also giving voice to vulnerable groups' concerns. This balance wasn't easy to strike.
After interviewing several residents, I learned the demolition decision was genuinely controversial.
Some residents said they hadn't received adequate notice, while others questioned the unfair compensation standards.
I carefully recorded everyone's viewpoints to ensure my report would comprehensively reflect the actual situation.
Work concentration temporarily made me forget the morning's emotional turbulence, but during shooting breaks, those images would resurface.
Alexander and Sofia eating breakfast together, Sofia's happy smile, Alexander's gentle eyes.
.. These scenes warmed me but also made me more wary.
I was afraid of depending on this happiness, afraid of the pain of losing it once I got used to it.
That evening, I returned to the office to organize today's photos. Most were routine news shots—protesting residents, on-site chaos, workers maintaining order. I sorted through them, selecting the few that best captured the story's essence.
But when I examined the photos carefully, I discovered some unusual details.
In one shot of the protest crowd, I noticed several men in expensive suits observing from the background. They didn't look like government workers or reporters. Stranger still, one of them seemed to have noticed my lens and was staring directly at the camera.
I enlarged the photo for a closer look, unease rising in my chest. That man's gaze was sharp and carried an unmistakable warning. I couldn't help shivering.
Who were these people? Why were they at the demolition site? Judging by their demeanor and positioning, they seemed to be secretly monitoring the situation's development. Their expensive, pristine clothing stood in stark contrast to the chaotic scene around them.
I flipped through other photos and found these men appearing from different angles, apparently deliberately avoiding other reporters' cameras. This intentional concealment deepened my suspicions.
A bad feeling grew in my chest. As an experienced reporter, I instinctively sensed something unknown might be lurking beneath the surface. Could this involve government-business collusion? Illegal profit transfers? My professional instincts wouldn't let me ignore these anomalies.
But then I tried to reassure myself. Maybe I was overthinking. Maybe they were just passing businessmen or had some other innocent explanation. And even if there was something sinister, they might not have noticed my photography. I tried suppressing the growing unease.
I saved these photos separately, clinging to hope. Maybe nothing would come of this. I decided not to report this discovery to my editor yet—after all, this was still just speculation without solid evidence.
Walking home from work, I found myself increasingly paranoid. The evening streets seemed longer and darker than usual. I quickened my pace, eager to get home, back to that little sanctuary that was just beginning to feel safe.
Every time someone passed behind me, I'd instinctively look back.
Every set of footsteps made me wonder if someone was following me.
My senses became abnormally acute—every tiny sound made me jump.
I knew this might just be excessive nervousness, but that man's piercing gaze from the photos kept haunting my thoughts.
"Stop overthinking, Anna," I told myself. "You're just being paranoid." But this self-comfort felt hollow on the empty street. The unease clung to me like a shadow.
When I turned a corner, I clearly heard footsteps behind me. I deliberately slowed down—the footsteps slowed too. I sped up—they matched my pace. Fear began coiling around my heart.
My pulse quickened. I casually glanced back and saw a man in a baseball cap about ten meters behind me. When our eyes met, he immediately looked down, pulling his brim lower.
Terror shot through me. I couldn't confirm if this was related to today's demolition site, but instinct told me this wasn't a coincidence.
I started jogging, then running faster and faster. The footsteps behind me grew more urgent. I could feel my breathing becoming labored, cold sweat breaking out on my palms. The house lights lining the street seemed to mock my panic.
I turned several corners and finally saw the familiar glow of home. I practically threw myself through the front door, slamming it shut and leaning against it, gasping for air, my legs weak with relief. The return of safety nearly made me collapse.
"Anna?" Alexander's voice came from the living room. "You're back?"
Hearing his voice, I instantly felt secure. I took several deep breaths, trying to calm my emotions. I couldn't let him and Sofia see my panic.
He appeared in the hallway, took one look at my condition, and immediately frowned. "What's wrong? You look pale."
I hesitated. Should I tell him? But if I shared what I'd discovered today, would he get dragged into danger? And maybe it really was just my imagination. I didn't want to shatter this newly established peace.
"Nothing," I forced a smile. "Just tired from work. Where's Sofia?"
Alexander clearly didn't believe me, but he didn't press. "She's in the living room drawing. She was very well-behaved today—we even made cookies together."
"Really?" I tried to make my voice sound normal. "Let me go see her."
When I saw Sofia sitting safely in the living room, absorbed in her drawing, the fear in my chest finally began to ease. Alexander stood behind me, maintaining an appropriate distance, but his hand lightly touched my back—a brief, comforting gesture.
"Mommy, look what I drew," Sofia excitedly held up her paper, showing three stick figures. "This is you, this is Alex, this is me. We're all together."
I kissed her forehead softly. "It's beautiful, sweetheart."
Maybe I really was overthinking everything. Maybe nothing would happen. I tried convincing myself this was just paranoia from a stressful workday.
But when I unconsciously glanced toward the window, I saw a black sedan parked across the street that hadn't been there before. Its windows were heavily tinted—I couldn't tell if anyone was inside.
That uneasy feeling came rushing back.
I drew the curtains, trying to block out this disturbing sight. Alexander noticed my action and gave me a questioning look. I shook my head slightly, indicating it was nothing.
I hoped everything was just my imagination.