Edward approached then—the butler. Tall, slim, silver-haired, dressed in an immaculate dark suit that looked as though it had never known a wrinkle in its life. He inclined his head respectfully.
“Miss Penelope. Welcome back.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
“Thank you, Edward.”
He led us along shaded stone walkways, past fountains murmuring softly, jasmine blooming thick and sweet in the late afternoon air.
Everything looked the same. Painfully, comfortingly the same.
The white villa came into view—stucco walls glowing in the sun, blue shutters flanking the windows, the terrace just beyond where Vanya used to chase lizards until he collapsed laughing.
Edward opened the door and stepped aside. “I trust you remember the layout. If you need anything—anything at all—dial one hundred.”
“I remember,” I said softly.
He bowed once more and withdrew, leaving us alone.
Vanya and I stepped inside.
The living room smelled of lemon polish and sea air, exactly as it always had.
The low white sofa sat beneath the window.
The shelves were still filled with Greek poetry, children’s books, old notebooks.
The small kitchen beyond held the faint scent of sugar and oil—ghosts of loukoumades I’d made him on rainy afternoons.
Vanya stood in the center of the room, turning slowly, as if afraid something might disappear if he looked too closely.
“It feels like I broke into someone else’s house,” he said.
I swallowed. “It used to be yours.”
He hesitated, then asked quietly, “So... that’s it?”
I knelt in front of him, meeting his eyes. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
“I’ll never see Dad again?”
The question hit harder than any accusation.
“You will,” I said firmly. “When he understands that I need space—real space—you’ll see him. Visits. Holidays. I promise I won’t keep you from your father.”
He studied my face, searching for cracks. “You swear?”
“I swear.”
A long pause.
Then he nodded—slow, uncertain. Not convinced, not reassured. But not fighting anymore.
Progress.
As he walked past me toward the terrace doors, I let myself breathe.
He’s my son, I thought fiercely.