Chapter 34
NADYA
The wind off the sea is warm and steady, tousling Mila’s hair as she races ahead of me down the beach, shrieking with laughter.
Her tiny footprints trail behind her in the sand like a breadcrumb trail of joy.
Nikolai follows more slowly, still careful on his feet after everything he’s been through, but there’s a light in his eyes I haven’t seen in months.
A spark that tells me he’s not just surviving anymore—he’s living.
I close my eyes and breathe in the salt and sun, the gentle roar of the waves grounding me like nothing else can.
The air smells of coconut sunscreen and the faintest trace of grilled fish from the food shacks up the road.
Somewhere behind me, Irina is trying to keep up with both kids, sandals in one hand, hat in the other, muttering lovingly in Russian under her breath about sunstroke and wet socks.
It’s been three months since the surgery. Three months since Dmitry’s bone marrow saved my son’s life. Three months of waiting—for retaliation, for retribution, for the other shoe to drop.
But nothing came.
Not from Dmitry, not from his enemies, not from the Bratva. For once, life held its breath and exhaled in peace.
I sit down on a striped blanket spread across the sand.
The wind flutters the corners, and I weigh them down with the beach bag and one of Konstantin’s boots.
I can feel the sun warming the fabric beneath my thighs, the grains of sand sticking stubbornly to my knees.
I watch Mila tug Nikolai toward the water, coaxing him to wade in ankle-deep, and I smile despite myself. She’s always been the braver one.
“Careful!” I call, though my voice lacks conviction. I’m not worried. Not today.
A shadow falls across me and then lowers itself to the blanket beside me. Konstantin, shirt half-unbuttoned, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, glistening slightly from the jog he just took down the shore. He hands me a bottle of water, twisting the cap off before I even ask.
“Thanks.” I take a sip and lean against his shoulder. “You were gone a while.”
“Had to make sure we’re the only mafia family on this beach.” His voice is warm, amused.
“And?”
“Just some tourists from Germany. Loud ones.”
“Then we’ll let them live,” I murmur.
He chuckles, low in his chest, and kisses the top of my head. We sit for a few minutes without speaking, watching the kids chase the foam as it pulls away from the shore.
“Remember when you said I married a lunatic?” I say, smiling softly.
Konstantin snorts. “Still true. But I’m the lunatic now. You’re the one holding it all together.”
I tilt my head back to look at him. His face is relaxed, his features open in a way they never were back in Los Angeles or Moscow or any of the places where power required armor. Here, he looks like a man who finally put down his sword.
“You’ve changed,” I whisper.
“So have you.”
We let the silence stretch again, but it’s comfortable now, like an old quilt. I rest my head against his shoulder and watch our children live in a world we clawed open for them.
Irina jogs back toward us, out of breath, holding Mila’s sandal and shaking her head. “She says she doesn’t need shoes anymore. That she’s a sea creature now.”
“She might not be wrong,” I say with a laugh, patting the blanket beside me.
Irina sinks onto it, smoothing her skirt. “I haven’t seen him smile like that in months.” She’s watching Nikolai now. “Thank you. For taking him here.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “Thank you for helping us get through it.”
“Bah,” she says, waving me off. “You’re the mother. You did the hardest part.”
“I think Dmitry might disagree,” Konstantin mutters, and we all look at each other for a long moment. The name still hangs heavy in the air, even now.
“He hasn’t made a move,” Irina says quietly. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I answer. “But maybe he doesn’t want to.”
“You believe that?”
I want to. God, I want to. I want to believe that something changed in that hospital room. That maybe love, or guilt, or fear of death, carved a hollow in Dmitry’s iron heart and made room for something softer.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Konstantin stands and brushes sand from his hands. “Let’s not waste the day trying to figure out a man who’s made a career out of being unpredictable.”
He offers his hand, and I take it, letting him pull me up. We walk toward the water, shoes forgotten, Irina following behind. Nikolai turns as we approach and smiles—a slow, wide smile that lights up every part of him. I crouch beside him and ruffle his damp hair.
“Having fun, baby?”
He nods, then surprises me. “I’m not scared anymore.”
I blink. “Scared of what?”
“Everything,” he says simply. “I used to be scared all the time. Even when I didn’t say it.”
I hug him close, burying my face in the crook of his neck. His skin smells like salt and sunscreen and life.
When I pull back, my eyes sting, but I smile through it. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you too,” he says, with the kind of honesty only children possess.
Later, we eat watermelon on the sand, and Mila gets sticky juice all over her chin. Konstantin carves their initials into the driftwood log we’re sitting on. Irina dozes in the shade of an umbrella, snoring softly.
We’re staying in a little white cottage nestled at the edge of a dune, its windows always thrown open to the breeze and the scent of salt.
It’s part of a sleepy coastal town that doesn’t ask questions, the kind of place with fishermen who nod in greeting and neighbors who loan you sunscreen and fresh mangoes.
The cottage came with faded blue shutters, a porch swing, and an old radio that still crackles with music when you turn the dial just right.
I’m lying on the couch in the living room, the late afternoon sun stretching golden fingers across the floorboards.
The air is warm, a lullaby of gull cries and gentle waves seeping through the open window.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep—just closed my eyes for a moment—but when I wake, the sky outside has shifted to dusk.
I blink up at the ceiling.
It’s too quiet.
I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Mila?” I call, voice still scratchy. “Nikolai?”
No answer.
I pad to the kitchen, which is empty as well. The kids’ shoes are gone, and so is Irina’s scarf. I glance outside. The beach is still, tinged with lavender and flame as the sun prepares to dip below the horizon.
“Konstantin?” I call again, stepping out onto the porch. A breeze lifts the hem of my dress, and something uneasy stirs inside me. It’s not like them to disappear without a word.
Then I see them, little glimmers of light far down the beach. Candles, maybe? Lanterns? It’s hard to tell from here. They flicker in a line, like breadcrumbs laid out just for me.
I step down into the sand, barefoot, heart thudding a little harder than it should. The path of lights leads toward a cove, half-shielded by a rocky outcrop we haven’t explored yet.
The sky is violet now, the stars just beginning to wink awake.
I round the bend and gasp.
Dozens of little lanterns glow in the sand, forming a soft, glowing circle.
Irina stands nearby with a hand over her heart, beaming.
Mila and Nikolai are there too, holding sparklers, their faces lit with excitement.
Someone’s even managed to hang fairy lights between two wooden stakes in the sand, casting a soft shimmer over the waterline.
“Surprise,” says a voice behind me.
I turn, and Konstantin is there, wearing a linen shirt that clings to his chest, his hair still damp from the ocean, eyes gleaming with something I haven’t seen before.
Hope.
“You scared me,” I whisper, pressing a hand to my chest.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, taking a step closer. “But I wanted it to be perfect.”
And then he drops to one knee.
My breath catches.
He doesn’t pull out a ring. Instead, he takes my hand and presses something cool into my palm. A seashell. A tiny, perfect spiral.
“I don’t have a fancy ring yet. I wanted to do this here, just us.”
My eyes are blurring. “Konstantin…”
“I’m not good with speeches. You know that. I ruin most things with silence. But not this.” His voice softens. “I want a thousand more mornings like today. I want beach trips and freckles and you stealing my half of the blanket. I want this peace we fought for to mean something.”
The children are holding their breath. Even Irina is crying now.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something else. A delicate platinum ring with a diamond. It’s simple but stunning.
“Oh my God,” I say in awe.
“This is my vow. Will you marry me again? Not in secret, not in fear. But in the open. With everything we are.”
My heart shatters open. “Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, of course I will.”
The kids erupt into cheers. Mila throws her arms around my waist, and Nikolai yells, “I told you it was happening!”
Konstantin stands and pulls me into his arms, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that tastes like salt and starlight. Around us, the waves hush the shore, and the lights glow steady in the dark.
I press my forehead to his and whisper, “You’re still a lunatic for calling this ring simple.”
He grins. “And yet you said yes to me.”
The sound of the ocean never stops. It ebbs and hums like a second heartbeat, pulsing beyond the open balcony doors. I lie in bed, still wrapped in the gauzy cover-up I threw on after the children finally collapsed into sleep. My fingers toy with the engagement ring on my hand—warm from my skin.
I don’t hear him enter. I feel him. The subtle shift of air. The quiet press of his presence.
Then his voice, low and hoarse from the sea air: “Can’t sleep?”
I turn, my breath hitching at the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only thing anchoring him to this world.
“I was waiting for you.”