Page 30 of Scarlet Chains
“No, baby,” I murmur, sliding the phone back into my pocket. “That’s not a toy.”
He immediately loses interest, distracted by a leaf that’s fallen near his feet. He picks it up clumsily, turning it over in his small hands before offering it to me like a gift.
“Thank you,” I whisper, accepting the leaf with all the solemnity the moment deserves. “It’s beautiful.”
His smile could power the entire estate.
How do they not see this?I wonder, watching him clap his hands together in delight.How do they not see how magnificent he is?
That evening, after Slava’s bath— where he splashed with such enthusiasm that I’m soaked through my shirt— I tuck him into his crib in his impossibly perfect nursery. It’s a little less clinical now. I’ve tried to warm it up over the past two weeks. Added a soft blanket that actually looks like it belongs to a child rather than a museum display. On the wall, I’ve taped up a series of splashy hand paintings we made together.
“Sleep tight, little love,” I whisper, smoothing his dark hair back from his forehead.
He looks up at me with those serious eyes, like he’s trying to memorize my face. My throat closes.
Don’t get too attached,I warn myself.This isn’t your life.
But watching him drift toward sleep, his tiny fist curled around the corner of his blanket, I can’t imagine walking away from him. Can’t imagine letting him wake up one morning to find another stranger tasked with keeping him alive while his parents jet-set around the world.
Once I’m certain he’s asleep, I pad downstairs to the kitchen and dial my mother’s number. The phone rings four times before she answers— longer than usual.
“Darling?” Her voice is soft, warm with affection, and immediately I feel something in my chest unclench.
“Hi, Mom.” I settle back in the chair, already feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, my love. Tell me about your work. Are they treating you well?”
The difference is immediate and stark. Where Elena asked about monitors and Wi-Fi, my mother asks about my well-being. Where Leonid discussed logistics while Elena posed poolside for social media pics, Mom wants to know if I’m happy.
“It’s… complicated,” I admit, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs. “Slava is the most wonderful little boy. So darn cute, and when he laughs…” I trail off, surprised by the emotion in my own voice.
“You love him,” she says simply.
“I do.” The admission slips out, almost surprising me. “I love him so much it scares me. And his parents…” I struggle for words that won’t sound too harsh. “They’re extending their vacation. Two more days in Hawaii.”
My mother makes a small sound of disapproval. She’s never been one to judge other people’s parenting openly, but I can hear her thoughts in that tiny noise.
“He’s lucky to have you,” she says finally.
“For now.” I press my free hand against my stomach, still not quite believing there’s life growing there. “Anyhow, there was something—”
I’m about to tell her I’ll be staying longer when I hear her take a breath— or try to. It stops me. The sound is too shallow, too careful. Like breathing hurts.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, my concern sharpening to a point. “You sound….”
“Just tired, my love. Don’t worry about me. What did you want to tell me?”
“Just that I might stay here a bit longer than planned,” I say. “They’ve asked me to consider a permanent position.”
“And you’re thinking about it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. The money is good, and Slava…” I close my eyes. “He needs someone, Mom. Someone who actually cares about him.”
“You have such a big heart, Ilona,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice even as worry creeps in at the edges. “But be careful not to lose yourself in taking care of others.”
The words hit deeper than they should. Because isn’t that exactly what I’ve been doing my entire life? Taking care of others, putting their needs first, making myself smaller so they could be comfortable?
“I’ll be careful,” I promise, even as I wonder if it’s already too late.
