I nodded slowly, feeling the warmth of sun, water, and life around us.
“Now smile for me, Penelope.”
I tried—a small, hesitant curve of my lips.
Then it softened, widening into something real, something I hadn’t let myself feel in years.
The sunlight glinted across the water, warm and golden, and for a moment, I let myself sink into it.
Everyone who had ever hurt me—the manipulative, the cruel, the negligent—they were either gone or trapped by the consequences of their actions.
The slow, sweet satisfaction of that truth settled deep in my bones, warm and final, leaving a rare calm in its wake.
I stood carefully, testing my balance as the water lapped against my legs.
Dmitri was at my side in an instant, one arm steady around my waist, the other beneath my elbow.
His hands were firm but gentle, guiding me down the wide stone steps into the pool with exaggerated care—as though I were spun glass, delicate and precious.
“I’m not a doll,” I teased, trying to inject some lightness into the moment.
“You think I’m treating you like one?” he countered, eyes dark with amusement, corners crinkling in that way that always made my chest flutter.
“You’re treating me like I’m more fragile than a doll. Like some rare egg that might crack if you breathe wrong,” I said, letting a small laugh escape me, the sound echoing across the water.
He tucked a damp strand of hair behind my ear, knuckles grazing my cheek, and my pulse caught. “You are a delicate flower, Milaya,” he murmured.
Then he leaned in and kissed me—soft, lingering, tasting faintly of sunshine, salt, and forgiveness.
A dramatic cough echoed from the water.
We broke apart to find Vanya floating on his back a few feet away, one eye cracked open, pretending he hadn’t been watching. His tiny lips curved in a smug grin.
Dmitri and I both laughed—light, effortless, the kind of sound that felt like it could chase away shadows from the past.
We turned back to each other.
His arms slid around me beneath the surface, warm and reassuring, anchoring me in this moment.
“I love you, Penelope,” he said simply, voice soft but certain, carrying the weight of every word he hadn’t said in the past year.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing close so my belly rested lightly against his abdomen, feeling the steady strength of him beneath me.
“I love you too,” I whispered, letting the words linger between us like sunlight on the water.
After a long moment, I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. The ripples of the lake distorted his reflection, but I didn’t need mirrors to see the truth in his eyes. “I think we should go on vacation,” I said, teasing lightly, trying to match the easy joy of the afternoon.
“Name anywhere in the world,” he said instantly, with the sort of certainty that made my heart ache and swell at once. “I’ll take you.”
I hummed, pretending to consider, letting the pause stretch just long enough for suspense. “Barcelona?”
His laugh rumbled against me—deep, happy, free—the kind of sound that made me melt in the warmth of him. “Barcelona it is.”
Vanya whooped from the deep end, splashing water in celebration as though the decision had been his.
I reached up, threading my fingers through Dmitri’s damp hair, smoothing it back from his forehead in slow, deliberate strokes.
The gesture felt sacred, a silent promise that after everything we’d clawed our way through—the fear, the guilt, the long months apart—this closeness was real and permanent.