“Can I take my football uniform?” Kirill suddenly asked. “And my book about pirates? It’s my favorite.”
“Of course you can,” Viktor replied, feeling the lump in his throat again. “Take everything you want.”
Later, the four of them sat in a small café. Kirill cautiously ate his pizza, glancing at his new relatives from time to time. Katya eagerly showed him photographs of their home, her room, and told him about the school. Larisa watched the scene, smiling faintly.
“Why did you even look for me?” Kirill asked unexpectedly.
“Because you are part of our family,” Larisa answered simply and sincerely.
That evening, in a hotel room where the children slept peacefully in the adjacent room, Viktor pulled his wife close.
“How do you manage to be so wise?”
“Stop it,” she smiled, stroking his cheek. “I just love you—with all your mistakes, your past, and your children. It’s all what makes you who you are.”
The following weeks passed in a blur: endless visits to various institutions, collecting documents, meetings with psychologists. Kirill began coming on weekends—first hesitantly, then gradually opening up more. Katya assumed the role of the big sister: helping with homework, taking him to training sessions, showing him around the city.
“You know,” Katya said one evening to their father, “he really looks like you. Not just in appearance—but in character too!”
