Page 16 of Unbroken

Luka reminds me of Mariah. And Ruthie… in a way I didn’t expect.

Chapter 5

RUTHIE

I don’t realizethat I am still staring at my phone until Luka pulls at my arm. I blink, disoriented, and wonder what just happened. Vadka feels like a connection to my sister that no one else has. Not really.

Mom remembers the Mariah of my childhood—the one with braids and scraped knees, who danced barefoot in the yard—but she barely remembers me, not anymore. So a visit to her always leaves me hollower than before. More raw. More exposed. It makes everything more painful.

My only friends, other than Zoya, are a couple of locals, the ones who’ve stuck around, and a couple of bar regulars who can still look me in the eye. Even they talk to me now like I’m a walking time bomb, ticking slow, dangerous. That’s nothing new. People have done that before. But not them. Not the ones who used to treat me like I was made of iron. Now I feel fragile, like I’m made of thin glass. And I hate it. God, I hate it somuch.

But Vadka talks about Mariah like she’s still here. And a part of me—one I don’t say out loud—believes maybe she is.

One month after she died, Matvei’s wife, Anissa, came to the bar. She didn’t say much. Just ordered a drink and pushed a pretty purple crystal into my palm. “This is amethyst,” she said gently, like her words might bruise. “It’s for healing. Some believe it connects us to our loved ones.”

I thanked her as politely as I could manage and slid the drink across the bar. Matvei calls her his little witch. She’s always been into that stuff—tarot cards, crystals, essential oils, all of it. I never paid much attention to it before. Just smiled and nodded.

I tossed the rock into the back of the change drawer because I didn’t want to look at it. But somehow, putting it there created the exact opposite effect. Now I have to look at it every time I open the drawer to give a customer change. Doesn’t happen often, not these days. No one pays with cash anymore. But still. A couple of times a night is maybe too often.

I should move that. Do crystals need to be cleaned or something?

“Can I have more whipped cream, Mama?”

My heart leaps into my throat. My eyes blur with sudden, stinging tears. But he stops himself and quickly shakes his head.

“No. Not Mama. Sorry.”

Hearing him say “sorry” in that small voice—so soft, so careful—would break anyone’s heart. Mine cracks down the middle. So I crouch down in front of him, meet his eyes, andforce a watery smile. “It’s fine, baby. I do look a little like her, don’t I?”

He nods, a small motion. Then he looks back down at his pancakes and doesn’t say much more.

“Here. You can have a little more whipped cream.”

“You give me more than Papa.”

Of course I do. Vadka is such a scrooge.Give him too much whipped cream, and he’ll have a tummy ache…

I roll my eyes at the thin air and turn back to the dishes, wiping at my face quickly before he sees.

“We have to go to the grocery store and buy some food. Do you want to come with Auntie?”

“Yes! I’ll be your helper,” he says, swinging his little legs with enthusiasm. I glance at him over my shoulder and smile, even as something in my chest tugs painfully. I know Vadka only sees Mariah when he looks at him—the same bright eyes, the same rosy cheeks, the same soft brown curls that frame his face just right.

But he looks a good bit like his daddy too. He has his mouth, that stern little curve, the strong jaw and a cleft chin. And even though his face is still round from childhood, I can already see it—that it’s going to sharpen one day. Harden the same way Vadka’s did. He’s got those dark brows and that same quiet, serious expression.

I turn away. Why am I thinking that right now?

Some kids look just like their moms. Some look just like their dads. Then some, like Luka, are perfect blends of both.

My phone buzzes with a text, and my heart leaps into my throat again, stupidly hoping it’s Vadka.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I can’t help it though. These little exchanges—these short, awkward, strange texts—have been the most excitement I’ve had in months. The most…feelingI’ve had in months. I don’t fully understand it, but somehow, our shared grief makes mine feel a little lighter. Like I was dragging it alongside me, and he wordlessly came up beside me and lifted it with me.

When I’m by myself, or worse, in front of other people, the effort of hiding it feels impossible. But I don’t have to hide it with Vadka. And that makes it easier to carry.

“I’m starting school soon, Auntie,” Luka says, swinging his feet at the table as he downs the last of his juice.

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