Epilogue II
SONYA
Three Years Later
The clock on my office wall ticks softly, a gentle rhythm against the hush of late morning.
I sit across from Lindsey, her hands trembling as she cradles a mug of tea.
She’s staring out the window, but her gaze isn’t focused on anything in particular.
She’s somewhere far away. The room is warm as the sunlight fills the space, touching every corner.
I make sure Lindsey feels that warmth and knows she’s in a place where the light can’t help but find you, even when you try to hide.
“I know it’s hard,” I say softly, watching her shoulders curl in. “But you did the bravest thing by coming here.” I mean it, and Lindsey knows that. When I take her hand in mine and squeeze, she squeezes back like she’s holding on for dear life.
She lets out a slow breath. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she says, “He said nobody would believe me. That I was making it up.”
The familiar ache settles in my chest, an ache for this woman who has gone through so much. “I believe you, Lindsey, and I’m going to help you. I promise.”
A flicker of hope crosses her face. Her fingers clutch the mug tighter, as if she can hold onto my words and let them fill the cracks.
We go through safety plans and various imperative questions.
Lindsey’s voice steadies as she talks about her dog, her sister, and her favorite coffee shop.
Slowly, the woman in front of me becomes more than her fear—she becomes herself again.
I listen, careful not to rush her, careful not to prod at wounds too deep.
As the appointment winds down, Lindsey’s eyes look brighter than when she arrived. She offers a shy smile as she stands. I smile back.
“Thank you,” she says. Her gratitude is quiet, but it echoes inside me.
“You’re not alone,” I remind her. “You’ll get through this, and I’ll be there with you every step of the way.” Lindsey nods, then leaves, closing the door softly behind her.
I lean back in my chair and let out a breath.
I think about all the women and men who’ve come through this office, all the stories I’ve heard, all the hope I’ve tried to plant like seeds.
There’s still darkness in the world, always will be, but I hope I’m able to be a bridge for some, from pain to something close to peace.
A familiar rap on the frosted glass snaps me from my thoughts.
The door swings wide, and two small bodies tumble in ahead of Matvei, their coats askew, hair wild, eyes shining.
The twins—Nadya and Luka—are a whirlwind of laughter, gloves, and snow boots.
Matvei follows, beaming, his arms full with a large, brown paper bag and a bouquet of white tulips. He looks at me like I’m the sunrise.
When I stand, Nadya barrels into my legs while Luka insists on showing me the dinosaur he’s brought, its tail broken, held on by tape. It’s messy, this family of ours. Messy, loud, and impossibly beautiful.
Matvei sets the bag on the desk and the twins rifle through it, hoping for the chocolate croissants he always brings. Matvei leans in close, brushing a strand of hair away from my cheek.
“You look tired,” he says, his voice low so the kids can’t hear. “Long morning?”
I nod, and he kisses my forehead. The stress unspools inside me, replaced by his soft touch.
We settle around the small table in my office. Nadya wants to draw, so I find her colored pencils and sketch book, placing them in front of her. Luka asks a thousand questions about the city outside the windows, and Matvei answers him with the patience of a saint.
Lunch is a jumble of crumbs and laughter.
Nadya drops her juice box, and Luka tries to convince us his dinosaur can fly.
Matvei laughs, a sound I hear more often these days, and I feel the shimmer of gratitude ripple through my bones.
There were days when I never thought I’d see this, never thought I’d be here, surrounded by love, family, and a bright future.
When the twins finish, they tumble onto the couch, giggling and poking at each other.
Matvei stands and stretches his arms out, pulling me gently into his embrace.
We stand there for a long moment, taking in the chaotic rush of the city outside and the happy peace surrounding us inside.
I always find such comfort in Matvei’s arms; he is my safe place, my warmth, my rock, and my love for him grows with every beat of my heart.
“I have something to tell you,” I whisper as I pull back, letting my hands rest on his chest. He searches my face, worry flickering there. “It’s good news,” I add quickly, smiling.
He waits, patient. My heart is pounding, but it’s a sweet kind of fear—a leap, not a fall. “I’m pregnant,” I say, the words floating between us like sunlight. It takes him a moment to process, but then his face fills with genuine joy. He laughs—a sound bright and untamed.
He sweeps me into his arms, spinning me once. Nadya and Luka rush over, demanding to know why we’re hugging. Matvei crouches down, arms open wide.
“You’re going to have a brother or sister,” he says.
The twins just stare, wide-eyed, before exploding in shrieks and laughter.
I watch them, my heart full to bursting. Matvei draws me close, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re my light,” he murmurs. “You saved me.”
I smile, my eyes clouding with tears of happiness. “We saved each other.”
The outside world is still complicated—a mess of old alliances and new beginnings. Inside, though, we are safe. We are whole. Our children embrace our legs, their giddy laughter infectious and bright. I hold Matvei’s hand, feeling the pulse of life and love we fought for, that we earned.
Later, when the sun begins to set and the office grows dim, I think about Lindsey, about every client who walks through my door. I think about what it means to be the bridge between families, to stand in the middle and hold both sides together.
I’m not alone anymore. I never was. I press my hand to my stomach, feeling the promise of tomorrow.
After I get home, after the dinner dishes are put away, baths are finished, and night has fallen, Matvei wraps his arm around me, the twins curled up between us.
We are together. We are a family. And finally, I can breathe.
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