Chapter 3
Zoe
Six years later
The bell rings, cutting through the air like the end of a sentence.
Then the doors burst open like floodgates, and the hallway fills with life. Children spill out in waves of laughter and shrieks, backpacks bouncing against small spines, shoes slapping the tile as they scatter like marbles let loose.
I spot them instantly. My two babies.
Five-year old Luciana is the first to break away.
Her dark brown curls are tied in a crooked ponytail that’s already coming loose, and her green eyes shine like new leaves in spring.
She’s got her father's eyes. It used to scare me. Now, I’ve learned to look past the sting.
Her smile is huge, missing a tooth on the right. She is wild joy in a uniform skirt.
Her twin, Bruno, follows close behind. He is a minute younger than her. He’s more careful. His shoulders are squared. He looks more like me, with his soft olive skin and thoughtful eyes. But when he runs, when he really lets go, I can see his father in him too.
“Mommy!” Luciana shouts across the pavement.
I crouch just in time.
She crashes into my chest like a cannonball, arms thrown around my neck. Bruno wraps himself around my waist from the side. The weight of them nearly knocks me over. I don’t mind.
“Guess what, guess what!” Luciana waves a folded paper in front of my face.
Bruno says nothing, but he offers me his paper as well. His eyes search mine for a reaction.
I unfold them. All A’s.
Luciana even got a little gold star in “emotional regulation,” which is comically ironic because she’s already bouncing like she’s got no regulation at all.
“Oh my God,” I breathe dramatically, widening my eyes. “You two are geniuses. I’m going to have to buy you both your own castles.”
Bruno frowns a little. “We can’t afford castles.”
Luciana tilts her head. “But we can afford ice cream, right?”
“Obviously,” I say with a wink. “We’re celebrating tonight.”
They cheer in unison.
Luciana spins in her skirt, and Bruno gives a nod so serious it’s like we just closed a major business deal.
“Can we go to the playground, Mommy?” Luciana asks, already pulling at my hand.
I nod, my chest tightening with something bittersweet.
Six years ago, I ran for my life barefoot and bleeding.
I escaped him and I made it to a dusty roadside just before dawn. My legs barely held me up. I flagged down a delivery truck with shaking hands and no idea what I’d say. I ended up curled in the corner of the truck, saying nothing at all.
That night, I slept in the back of a shop behind crates of fruit. The owner found me in the morning.
He didn’t call the police.
He handed me a sandwich and asked if I could sweep. I swept, cleaned, and stocked shelves.
Three months later, I threw up in the bathroom behind the store and realized I hadn’t had my period since I left him.
A test confirmed I was pregnant. With his child. I almost ran again. I almost gave up. I was supposed to be dead, after all. But something about the heartbeat inside me gave me the strength I hadn’t had in years.
I found a small village in the countryside. I worked on farms. Cleaned houses. By the time the twins were born, I was teaching part-time in a local schoolhouse, trading language lessons for warm bread.
We survived.
And after the twins turned three, I dared to believe that we had been forgotten. He would have moved on with his life.
That it was safe to dream again.
I packed us up and moved to the city. We rented a tiny place with a leaking sink and too-thin walls. I homeschooled them during the day while sending out job applications at night.
I borrowed money from a man I regretted ever meeting. Eventually, I found someone who gave me a chance.
A marketing firm. Entry-level. He told me I had "grit in my eyes"—whatever that means.
Now, I’m a full employee. It’s not much, but it’s mine. Our life is small, but it’s real. The twins are thriving. I have a routine. Bills to pay. Lunch to pack. Hope. Everything is all right.
“Mommy, let’s goooo,” Luciana pleads, tugging on my hand again.
“Alright,” I laugh. “Let’s go ruin our dinner with ice cream.”
They race ahead, their hands already reaching for the sky.
“Hey!! Watch your steps!” I yell with a big smile on my face. This is what peace feels like.
The sun is soft this time of day. The playground is small, mostly quiet, just two other families scattered across the benches and jungle gym.
I settle onto the wooden bench closest to the swings as Luciana and Bruno race toward the climbing frame.
I watch them yelling at them to be careful.
“Mind if I sit here?” a voice asks.
I glance over.
A woman stands beside the bench, a toddler on her hip, a boy of maybe five tugging on her sweater. She has long brown hair, pale skin, and tired eyes that still manage to look kind.
“Of course,” I say, moving my purse.
She sits with a sigh, adjusting her baby against her hip.
“They never stop moving,” she says, smiling. “I used to think I was tired before I had kids.”
I laugh. “Now tired is just… baseline.”
“I’m Eva,” she says. “That’s Marko.” She points to the older boy near my twins. “And this little one is Ada.”
“Zoe,” I reply. “And those two whirlwinds are Luciana and Bruno.”
“They’re adorable,” Eva says. “Twins?”
I nod.
“Girl and boy. Double trouble.”
We both laugh, and it’s easy.
The kids climb together, already swapping names and inventing rules to a game that doesn’t exist.
“I always thought I’d be an independent woman,” Eva says after a moment. “I used to be cutthroat. And now I cry during cartoons and carry emergency snacks in all my pockets.”
“You sound like a functional disaster,” I tease.
“I am.”
She watches Marko from the corner of her eye, and there’s softness in her smile—like love lives in every breath she takes around them.
“I love it though,” she adds. “My husband’s amazing. He’s strong but so patient with them. With me. I didn’t think I’d be this happy.”
I force a smile. His image flashes behind my eyes. Green eyes darker than mine, hands rough and reverent at once. I wonder how I would describe him to a stranger, I barely knew him. Yet he changed my life in just one night.
I look away.
Eva notices. “Sorry,” she says gently. “Didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay,” I say too quickly.
She nods, not pushing. There’s perceptiveness in her silence. It makes me like her more and trust her less all at once. She catches things quickly, I don’t know if I like that. I am a fugitive after all.
“Hey,” she says after a moment. “My son’s having a birthday party this weekend. You should come. Bring your kids.”
“Oh, I—” The instinctive no rises fast.
But then Luciana’s laugh floats through the air. Bruno’s chasing Marko around the slide, smiling in a way I haven’t seen in days.
They’re making friends.
I watch their faces, bright with joy and freedom.
Eva watches me.
“You don’t have to decide now,” she says. “Just think about it. I can text you the address.”
I nod slowly. “Okay. We’ll come.”
Luciana sprints over at the same time. “Mommy, can we go to Marko’s birthday? He said there’s cake and presents and maybe a magician!”
Bruno joins her, hopeful.
I smile softly.
“We’ll be there.”
I almost turn around at the front gate.
The house is huge, storybook huge. White walls, tall windows, manicured gardens that look like they were designed by royalty. There’s a valet at the entrance. A valet.
I clutch the twins’ hands tighter.
“Wow,” Luciana whispers, her green eyes wide with awe. “Is this a hotel?”
“No,” I murmur, already regretting everything. “It’s… just a very big house.”
Bruno doesn’t say anything, but he’s already scanning the perimeter. He looks like he’s deciding if we can escape fast if we need to.
I park a block away. No way am I letting someone else drive my beat-up old Honda.
Luciana carries the gift bag between them—bright purple with a small ribbon tied at the handle. It’s the best I could do: a new art set and a sketchbook. Probably not what this kind of kid is used to.
The walkway is lined with gold balloons.
Music spills out from a hidden speaker system. There’s a tent in the backyard. A magician setting up by the hedge. Catering staff in white shirts carrying platters with tiny food on sticks.
This was a mistake.
I don’t do well with people. Even at work, I keep to myself. Lunch alone with my eyes down. Keeping a low profile.
But then Luciana squeals and Bruno cracks the smallest smile when they spot Marko waving from the bouncy castle.
I take a breath. Remember why I came.
For them. They were just three when we moved to the city.
I was too paranoid to let them out to play.
I couldn’t risk them running to him or someone that knew him; he has men all over.
They had no friends. It was just the three of us.
The playground was the first time that they begged to play with children their age. How could I say no?
Eva greets us near the patio. Her dress is casual but still somehow elegant. Hair up, gold earrings, baby on her hip again like it’s second nature. I look down at my outfit, maybe I should have tried harder.
“Zoe!” she calls, walking over. “You made it!”
She pulls me into a hug before I can dodge.
I stiffen, but I inhale and then pat her back awkwardly.
“Thank you for inviting us,” I say.
“Are you kidding?” She smiles wide. “Marko has been talking about your kids all week.”
Marko crashes into Luciana like a missile. Bruno gives him a smile and joins.
“They’re so happy to see each other,” Eva says. “Oh! And this is my husband. Tolya.”
A tall man with sharp eyes and a kind smile steps forward. His accent is faintly Russian, his handshake firm.
“Pleasure,” he says. “We’ve heard about Luciana and Bruno. Very beautiful children.”
“Thank you,” I manage.
He holds my gaze a while too long.
My stomach twinges.
There’s something familiar about him. Not in the way he looks, but the way he looks at me.
Before I can even question the unease crawling up my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck lift.