She raised her hand.
“When Mom died, I didn’t cry, remember? Everyone thought I was in shock. But the truth is, I was happy for her. Happy she was finally free. I hated you for that. Hated you for what you did to her. For what you did to me.”
Viktor lowered his head. Every word fell on him like a hammer. And he accepted these blows because he deserved every one of them.
“I know,” he said finally. “I found her diaries after the funeral. Read them all night and realized what a monster I had been all those years.”
He looked up at his daughter with eyes full of tears.
“I can’t change the past. Can’t return the years I took from your mother. Can’t erase what I taught you. But I can admit my guilt. And I can try to become a different person. If you give me a chance.”
Anya looked at him silently for a long time. In her eyes was pain that had accumulated for years. And anger that found no outlet. And something else, something resembling fatigue from hatred.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she said finally. “Maybe I never can. But you came for me. You risked everything to save me. And you admitted what you did. Instead of making excuses.”
She squeezed his hand tighter.
“That’s not enough to erase the past. But enough to try to build something new.”
Viktor nodded, not trusting his voice.
“I want to ask you one thing,” Anya continued. “When I get out of here, I don’t want to go back to your house. I want to live alone.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“I will be nearby as long as you want. And I’ll step back when you ask. I promise.”
Anya closed her eyes, and for the first time in a long while, her face looked peaceful.
“I need to sleep,” she whispered. “Will you stay?”
“I’ll stay.”
She fell asleep in a few minutes, and Viktor sat nearby, listening to her even breathing. Outside the window, the city was waking up, and the sounds of the street penetrated the glass, reminding that life goes on…
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