EGOR
The salt air clings to my skin, thick with the scent of cotton candy and sizzling kebabs from the festival stalls.
Maksim is already halfway up the Ferris wheel, his laughter ringing out as he waves down at us, Artyom right behind him, shouting something about not being scared.
Milana rolls her eyes, but her fingers tighten around my hand as she watches them climb higher.
"You're supposed to be the brave one," I tell her, nudging her shoulder with mine.
She scoffs, but the corner of her mouth twitches. "I'm smart. There's a difference."
Emilia's laughter spills over us, warm and rich, and I turn just in time to see her scoop Eva, our sixth and second to the youngest now, into her arms, the little girl's giggles muffled against her mother's neck.
Sofiya, our fifth, clings to Emilia's leg, her dark curls bouncing as she tugs at her mother's sundress. "Mama, please can we get the pink one?"
Emilia's eyes flick to me, a silent question. I nod, and her smile widens. "Only if you share with your brother."
Sofiya's nose scrunches. "But Lev always takes the biggest piece!"
"Because he's a growing boy," I say, ruffling our seventh and youngest, Lev's hair as he darts past me, his small hands already reaching for the cotton candy. He grins up at me, sugar already smeared across his cheeks, and I can't help but laugh.
Emilia watches them, her fingers brushing over her stomach, and I know what she's thinking. Ten years. Ten years of this. Of chaos and laughter and sticky fingers and bedtime stories.
And we wouldn't have it any other way.
Maksim's voice cuts through the noise, sharp with excitement. "Papa! Look!" he shouts from the top of the Ferris wheel, where the lights blur against the darkening sky. "We're the highest!"
Artyom nudges him. "We're not that high."
Milana snorts. "Says the boy who cried when we went on the roller coaster."
"I did not."
"You did."
Emilia steps forward, her hand on her hip, and just like that, the argument dies. "Enough. We're here to have fun, not bicker."
I watch her, the way her hips sway as she herds Milana and the rest toward the game stalls, the way her hair catches the last of the sunlight.
She's softer now, rounder in all the ways that make my mouth water, her body a map of the life we've built together.
The stretch marks on her thighs, the faint silver lines on her stomach, every one of them a mark of her. Of us.
Roman, our fifth, tugs at my sleeve, his dark eyes serious. "Papa, can we get the big stuffed bear?"
I glance at the game, where a row of oversized plush animals hangs just out of reach. "You think you can win it?"
He nods, puffing out his chest. "I'm strong."
I ruffle his hair. "Then let's see what you've got."
The carnival worker smirks as I hand over the cash, but his expression falters when Roman picks up the mallet and swings with all the force of a boy who's spent years watching his father break bones. The bell rings, the crowd cheers, and Roman grins up at me, triumphant.
Emilia appears at my side, Eva perched on her hip, Sofiya clutching her hand. "Good job," she murmurs, but her eyes are warm.
I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "You want me to get you one?"
She laughs, leaning into me. "Of a stuffed bear? No, thank you."
The kids swarm us, Maksim and Artyom are back and now arguing over who gets to carry the bear, Milana rolling her eyes, Lev already tearing into another cotton candy. Emilia watches them, her lips curved in that soft, secret smile that's only for me.
I pull her closer, my mouth brushing her ear. "You look happy, karamelka."
She tilts her head, her breath warm against my neck. "Of course."
"Mmm." My hand slides down to her hip, my fingers pressing into the softness of her. "You're thinking about how lucky you are."
Her laugh is low, intimate. "Yes."
I turn her to face me, my hands framing her face. The noise of the festival fades, the laughter of our children, the shouts of the vendors, all of it blurs into nothing. There's only her. Only this.
"So am I," I murmur.
Her eyes search mine, dark and endless, and I know she sees it, the truth I've spent a lifetime trying to outrun.
That power earned me fear.
Money earned me loyalty.
But her forgiveness?
That earned me everything.
Thanks for reading!