“Oh, I made a list of what needs to be bought. And also—maybe transfer him to our school? It’s excellent, and it’s near our home. That way, I can keep an eye on him.”
Viktor listened to his daughter, feeling a lump forming in his throat. Larisa approached from behind and put her arms around his shoulders.
“Everything will be alright,” she whispered. “You’ll see.”
Within three hours, they were on the road. Katya slept in the back seat, clutching the shopping list tightly. Larisa scrutinized the documents—she always prepared meticulously for important meetings.
“Do you think he looks like me in real life, as he does in the photo?” Viktor broke the silence.
“Soon we’ll find out,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “The main thing is not to rush things. He needs time to get used to it.”
“And if…” Viktor began.
