“Of course it does,” I said softly.
I turned my head just enough to study his profile without making it obvious. The curve of his nose, the stubborn set of his jaw—it was Dmitri all over again, and the resemblance hit like a bruise you don’t realize you’re pressing on until it aches. “You and I lived there for five years. Before we came back to Lake Como for your dad’s wedding.”
His eyes flicked to me. “His wedding to who?”
“To Seraphina.” I hesitated, then decided half-truths would only poison this further. “She fainted at the altar. The wedding never actually happened. Later... your father married me again instead.”
Vanya let out a long, dramatic sigh and dropped his head back against the seat. “Again?”
I nodded, lips curving in a tired, rueful smile. “It’s complicated.”
He turned toward me fully now, gaze sharp despite the exhaustion weighing down his small body.
His eyes drifted to my hand resting in my lap, to the platinum band catching the cabin light.
“You’re still married to Dad?” he asked.
I curled my fingers instinctively, thumb brushing over the ring. “It’s...” I searched for the right word, one that wouldn’t fracture him further. “...complicated.”
He slumped deeper into the seat, the fight leaking out of him in stages. “Why can’t I remember anything?” he asked quietly. Not accusing. Just tired. “If you’re really my mom... I’d feel bad for how mean I’ve been.”
The words sliced deeper than his earlier screams ever had.
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Truly. Anyone would react the same way. You were scared. You still are.”
He didn’t respond right away.
His gaze returned to the window, watching the clouds slide past—endless, untouched, unbothered by human grief.
Then, after a long pause, he said, almost grumpily:
“Can you tell them to unstrap me already? Jeez. I’m not an animal.”
Relief loosened something in my chest.
I raised my hand slightly, careful not to startle him, and signaled the flight attendant. She came immediately—young, composed, the kind of calm that comes from training and repetition.
“Please unstrap him,” I said quietly. “Just the regular seat belt. He’s not going to hurt himself or anyone else.”
She nodded once, knelt beside Vanya’s seat, and released the soft restraints around his wrists and waist.
He hissed as the pressure disappeared and rubbed at his skin, scowling at me the entire time.
She secured the standard lap belt—firm but humane—then stepped away without a word.
Vanya exhaled heavily, shoulders dropping a fraction.
He didn’t look at me, but he didn’t scoot away either. That felt like something. A tiny victory.
The jet leveled off, the low hum of the engines settling into a steady rhythm.
Sunlight poured through the oval window, bathing his face in soft white.
“You still didn’t answer my question,” he said after a moment.
I waited. Let him ask it properly.
“Why are you leaving Dad?”