Still, I can't shake off the feeling that something might go wrong. I've been hurt before, and I don't want to expose Yara to any further danger.
All men start out nice enough, until they're not any more.
The purpose of our leaving is to escape Luchenko's clutches and provide the best life possible for Yara, not to place her in harm's way of a different kind.
"Mom?" Yara's voice interrupts my thoughts.
I blink and refocus on my daughter. "Sorry, what is it?"
"I know it's kind of babyish, but can we bring my stuffed bear with us?"
Yara holds up her raggedy teddy bear, the one she's had since she was a baby, its fur matted and worn.
"Of course," I smile, understanding the need to cling to a shred of comfort and familiarity. "He can come with us."
"Yay!" Yara beams, hugging the bear tightly.
It's moments like this that make me feel grateful for what we have.
Despite our past traumas and hardships, we still have each other. And that's all that matters.
The fact we're going to escape to a much better life is just icing on the cake.
"Okay, let's finish packing," I say, picking up a shirt from the floor. "We don't want to miss our flight."
Yara nods, and together we continue packing our things. The suitcases are almost full, and I take one last look around the apartment. It's almost empty now, devoid of any memories of the special times we shared here.
"Well, this is it. Are you ready to say goodbye to this life and enter our new phase?" I ask Yara, the question just as much for me as for her.
"Yes," Yara replies, holding her bear close.
"Then let's go."
I pick up the suitcases, tipping them onto their wheels, and lead the way out of the apartment.
It feels funny, leaving with just the clothing on our backs and a couple of pieces of luggage. But it's all we have and, until now, it's really been all that we've needed.
Plus, Gerald has promised that he'll get us anything else we need when we get there.
As we walk down the stairs, carefully navigating the wheels of the rickety suitcases so they don't snap off, I feel a pang of sadness. We're leaving behind the only home we've known for years.
It was an accomplishment getting off the streets and into this place. I hold back tears as I remember the pride I allowed myself to feel as the keys were handed over to me, and I knew Yara would never need to set foot in a dumpster again to forage for scraps. This place has poignant memories.
But I also feel a sense of almost overwhelming excitement. We're starting a new chapter, one filled with hope and possibilities.
"Are you scared, Mama?" Yara asks, looking up at me, sensing my emotions.
"A little," I admit. "Change can be scary. But we'll be okay. We have each other."
"Forever?" Yara asks, her eyes wide.
"Forever," I promise, giving her a reassuring smile.
We step out into the early morning, and I take a deep breath. The air is crisp and fresh, and the sky is tinged with pink and orange. It's a new day, a new beginning.
"Let's go," she says, and together we head toward our future.
I glance down at Yara as we walk, taking in the trusting innocence in her eyes. I know moving to another country won't be easy, but I'm determined to shield her from further pain.