“Dmitri...” I breathed, the name tasting like home on my lips.
“Yes, my love?” His voice was low, velvet-rough, softened just for me in this secluded paradise, carrying a note of reverence that made my heart beat unevenly.
“What name would you give our child?” I asked, searching his face.
The question had been circling in my mind for weeks—quiet, insistent, waiting for the right moment to surface.
He tilted his head, eyes tracing the curve of my stomach, lips parting in a smile both shy and full of wonder. “A name? For our little miracle?” His fingers gently brushed mine, thumb caressing the skin above my knuckles. “Something strong. Something beautiful. Something that will grow up knowing love before it even takes its first breath.”
I smiled, feeling tears prick the corners of my eyes. “I like the sound of that. But... strong and beautiful? Not too much to ask for?”
“Not at all,” he whispered, leaning closer so our foreheads touched, sharing a warmth no one else could reach. “I want a name that carries both of us—the fire and the calm, the strength and the softness.”
Vanya surfaced nearby, eyes wide, watching the exchange with the careful scrutiny only children possess. “Can I pick a middle name?” he asked, voice hopeful. “I want it to mean... brave. Like you, Dad.”
Dmitri laughed softly, pressing a kiss to my temple before straightening. “Of course, little philosopher. Brave it will be.”
He murmured, leaning in to brush his lips across mine in a slow, lingering kiss.
Every inch of him exuded devotion. “She’ll carry your name, your light, your strength. Nothing else feels right. She deserves to know who her mother is—through the name she carries, through everything she inherits from you.”
I tilted my head, teasing. “And what if it’s a boy? Don’t tell me you’re one of those men who only wants daughters now that you’ve got Vanya.”
He chuckled—the sound deep, warm, vibrating across my skin, making my pulse spike. “It’s a girl,” he said, as though he had already glimpsed her in some secret vision only he could see.
Then he kissed me again—this time deeper, more urgent, before trailing his mouth along the sensitive column of my neck. “But if fate surprises us with another son... we’ll name him after my father. Nikolai. Strong name. Quiet strength. Like the lake.”
I hummed, pleased, the words fitting like music. “Nikolai Volkov. I like it.”
The evening air had begun to sharpen, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant woodsmoke across the lake.
Dmitri’s arms tightened around me, the warmth and security of him cocooning me.
“It’s getting cold now,” he murmured against my ear, low and intimate.
“I’m not cold, though,” I argued, though a shiver ran down my spine.
“You are,” he countered, his smile widening, playful but insistent. “Your lips are turning the faintest shade of blue, babe. Don’t argue with me. You know I’ll win.”
He guided me toward the steps with the same reverent care he had shown all afternoon—palm steady at the small of my back, the other hand beneath my elbow, every movement measured so I wouldn’t slip, strain, or stub a toe.
I rolled my eyes but let him fuss; I couldn’t deny it felt good, comforting even.
The man who had once broken everything without remorse now moved around me as though I were spun from moonlight, delicate and irreplaceable.
“Vanya,” he called over his shoulder, his voice carrying easily across the water, firm yet warm. “We’re heading inside, son. Time to dry off.”
Vanya popped up at the edge like a seal, water dripping from his sun-bleached curls, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Bye...”
Then, with perfect six-and-a-half-year-old timing, he added: “Dad, can I have a girlfriend too?”
I burst out laughing before I could stop myself.
Dmitri’s broad shoulders shook beside me as he tried to suppress his own laughter.
“No, sweetheart,” I said carefully, “You’re too young for girlfriends.”
“I’m not!” Vanya protested, hauling himself halfway out of the water, droplets glimmering like tiny diamonds across his skin. “There’s a girl I like at school. Her name’s Sofia. She shares her crayons and she’s really good at drawing cats. Should I invite her over?”