The boy slowly approached, cautiously looking at the strangers. A fresh scratch was visible on his cheek, and his T-shirt was stained with grass.
“Hi,” Viktor began, stepping forward. “I’m your dad.”
Instinctively, Kirill took a step back, his eyes filling with fear.
“Mom said that dad was dead.”
“No, kid,” Viktor said softly. “I’m alive. And I’m here to take you home.”
“Why?” the boy’s voice trembled. “I don’t need anyone. Nobody needs me.”
“That’s not true!” Katya exclaimed, jumping into the conversation. “We need you so much! I’ve always wanted a brother. And here you are!”
She continued speaking quickly, gesticulating passionately. Kirill listened, his eyes widening. The initial distrust in his gaze gradually gave way to curiosity. Too much new information had come crashing down on him in just a few minutes.
“You know what?” Larisa suggested, addressing the boy. “Let’s just start getting to know each other. No rush, no pressure. We’ll gradually become closer, alright?”
