Between Protests in Socks and Back to Russia

Between Protests in Socks and Back to Russia
Maggie’s Point of View

My fingers were smoothing out the soft fabric of Jamie’s pajamas, while I tried to keep my thoughts focused solely on the task at hand. It was nighttime, the same day I’d left Dominic’s hotel room trying to keep the pieces of myself together. As soon as I left there, I did everything I could to stop thinking about it—anything would do. I tidied up the house, replied to messages, mentally reviewed work matters—any distraction that would keep my mind from returning to that room, to those words, to that kiss… to the divorce. We hadn’t resolved anything, not really. But at least all the cards had been laid on the table. There were no more lies, no more secrets. He knew everything, and in the end, that was what mattered. The rest… the rest we would figure out. Because now it wasn’t about us anymore; it was about our children.

I took a deep breath, trying to hold onto that thought as I turned my attention to Jamie. He had already eaten dinner, taken a bath, and normally, that time of night meant peace. Ritual and routine. I’d put him in his crib, he’d hug his stuffed giraffe, turn his little body, and fall asleep—but not that night. That night, he was agitated, restless, and… calling for his dad.

“Sweetie, Daddy isn’t here; you’ll see him another time,” I said gently, trying to keep my voice steady as I pulled the little sock over his foot, still sitting on the changing table.

“Papá here!” Jamie frowned, his expression filled with a determination I knew all too well.

I sighed softly.

“I can’t call him here, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

“Papá here with Jamie,” he insisted, his voice more impatient now, and before I could react, he pulled the sock off his own foot and threw it across the room.

I blinked automatically.

“Wow… what a temper, kid?” I crossed my arms for a second, staring at that little human who clearly took after his father far more than I’d care to admit. “We’re not going to call Daddy. You’re going to sleep, and when he comes to see you again, you can stay with him.”

Jamie didn’t like that answer, not one bit.

“No sleeping! Daddy. I want Daddy,” he declared, crossing his little arms in front of his body in a way that barely worked and pouting perfectly.

Oh my God.

I had to press my lips together hard to keep from smiling, because if I smiled, I knew exactly what would happen. The tantrum would only get worse.

But, Jesus… he was the spitting image of Dominic.

“Jamie, please,” I said, already feeling the exhaustion weigh on me.

“Daddy, Mommy. Jamie wants papá,” he repeated, his pout even more evident now, his eyes beginning to glisten.

And that’s when I lost it. Because I could handle tantrums, I could work around stubbornness, but that look… that start of a cry… that broke me down.

He missed his dad. He’d been calling for him for months, ever since we left Russia, and, probably, even without fully understanding it, something inside him had recognized Dominic’s presence the day before. Maybe not consciously, but he felt it, and now he didn’t want to let it go.

I let out a long sigh, defeated.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I loosened his crossed little arms, gently stroking his warm skin. “Let’s call Daddy. See if he can come see you.”

His eyes lit up immediately.

“Papá?” he asked, sniffling.

“Yes, your papá.”

I reached for the phone next to the changing table, my heart tightening in my chest in a strange way as I looked up Dominic’s number.

Months—I hadn’t called that number in months. I thought I’d never call again, and yet, there I was… doing exactly that. As if fate had a cruel sense of humor.

I bit my lower lip between my teeth before bringing the phone to my ear. It rang once, twice, three times, and then…

“Hello, Dominic Volkov.” My breath caught for a second, and my heart pounded harder.

Everything was complicated between us, but even so, just hearing his voice… something inside me, something restless and chaotic, calmed down.

“Dominic… it’s me,” I said, my voice a little more hesitant than I’d like.

And it didn’t make sense; I wasn’t calling for myself, it was for our son. I had no reason to hesitate; I wasn’t a teenager calling the boy I had a crush on. I was a grown woman, the mother of his children.

“Maggie?” he replied.

“Daddy!” Jamie shouted, clapping his hands excitedly, a wide smile spreading across his little face. I couldn’t help but smile too.

“Hmmm… I’m calling because Jamie…”

“I’m at your front door.” My heart literally skipped a beat.

“What?”

“I’m at your front door, about to ring the doorbell.”

I let out a short laugh, almost in disbelief.

“I’m going to get it.” I hung up the phone and put it back on the table, my chest feeling light in a way I didn’t want to analyze. “Did you hear that? Daddy’s here!”

“Daddy’s here!” Jamie clapped his hands, excited.

I smiled and picked him up, setting him down on the floor right away. Carrying him wasn’t a simple task anymore; my belly wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to make everything harder.

I held his little hand.

“Let’s go see your daddy, so he can put you to sleep.”

We walked down the hallway, crossed the living room, and stopped in front of the door. I hesitated for a second. Just a single second. A strange nervousness settled in my chest, but I ignored it; I didn’t want to question it.

“Mommy, open it! Daddy wants Jamie,” he protested, chattering nonstop.

I let out a low, amused snort, then opened the door and came face to face with him.

Tall.

Strong.

Impeccable in a suit that fit his body perfectly. Handsome in an almost irritating way. My stomach churned slightly. My hormones definitely weren’t helping at all.

“Papá!” Jamie’s cry echoed through the small space between us, vibrating with a joy so pure it almost hurt.

I barely had time to breathe before I saw Dominic’s eyes drop from me to our son, as if everything else ceased to exist in that moment. He crouched down immediately, opening his arms.

“Jamie! Papá missed you.” His voice sounded different, softer, more… human.

Jamie didn’t hesitate; he ran on his little legs and threw himself into Dominic’s arms, nestling against Dominic’s body as if that were exactly where he was always meant to be. His little arms wrapped tightly around Dominic’s neck, and Dominic pulled him close in a tight embrace, burying his face in our son’s little hair for a brief second.

I just watched.

My heart tightened inside my chest, heavy and warm at the same time, as if that scene were too beautiful… and too painful to exist in the same space.

“He wouldn’t stop calling for you, so I called,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as Dominic stood up with Jamie in his arms.

Jamie was still clinging to him, his little arms wrapped around his neck, his head resting on his shoulder as if he were finally at peace.

“I came to say goodbye; I couldn’t go back to Russia without seeing my son properly,” Dominic replied, already stepping into the apartment, passing by me. His scent drifted past me. Familiar and dangerous. My body reacted before my mind did, and I had to force myself to remain still. “Come on, little one. Shall I put you to sleep?” He spoke with his face close to Jamie’s, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Without even looking at me again, he walked straight down the hallway toward the bedroom. Making it clear—very clear—that he was there for Jamie. The door was still open behind me, but I stood still for a second, watching the two of them walk away. A strange sensation settled in my chest; I shouldn’t feel this way, but if I were completely honest with myself… there was a twinge there. Small and uncomfortable.

I closed the door carefully, turning the key and leaning against it for a moment, as if I needed to compose myself before moving, then I stepped away. I went back to the living room, my steps somewhat aimless, my gaze wandering around my own apartment as if, suddenly, I didn’t know exactly what to do inside it. Dominic was there, in my home, and we… were almost strangers now.

I shook my head, trying to push the thought away, and headed to the kitchen. I picked up Jamie’s dishes, still in the sink, and began washing them; the hot water running through my fingers helped keep my mind occupied, anchored in something simple. I scrubbed, rinsed, dried, then wiped down the counter and put everything away. When I was done, I went back to the living room and sat on the couch, my body finally slowing down… but only for a second, because the silence bothered me. My gaze turned to the silent, closed-off hallway.

I took a deep breath.

It was my home; there were no off-limits areas here. Just because Dominic was in that hallway didn’t mean I had to keep my distance like an intruder. I got up and walked slowly to Jamie’s room, then stopped at the door, leaning against the frame.

Dominic was sitting in the chair next to the crib, Jamie still in his lap, his arms limp now, but still clutching his shirt as if afraid he’d disappear. Dominic was speaking softly, telling a story, something about a boy and his peas. I almost smiled; it was a completely random story, surely derived from one of Jamie’s favorite books—he still remembered it. Jamie seemed to soak up every word, even as he fought off sleep, and every now and then, he’d lift his head, murmur “Daddy,” as if he needed to confirm that he was still there, and then snuggle back against him.

My chest tightened; I didn’t know how time worked for a child. I didn’t know how Jamie understood all of that, if he realized that months had passed, if he felt the absence, or if, to him, that moment was just… normal. Because there was something there that confused me; it seemed as though they had never been apart, but at the same time, there were small cracks. Small moments when Jamie seemed to doubt reality itself. As if he wasn’t sure his father was really there, and that… that was my fault.

I swallowed hard, looking away for a second.

I had done this to both of them; deep down, I understood Dominic. I understood the anger and the hurt. He might even, one day, forgive me for who I am, but for what I did to him and to Jamie… That would be another story.

I stayed there for a few more seconds, just watching, before walking away in silence. I left the two of them to their moment, not wanting to intrude any more than I already felt I had. I went back to my room and sat on the bed, picking up the phone I’d left there earlier. There were several messages; the first was from the gallery—Sara said I could take a few days off before coming back.

I sighed, swiping my finger across the screen before replying.

“Thanks, Sara, but it’s really not necessary. I only asked today because I had to take care of an urgent matter, but I want to be there tomorrow—working helps keep my mind occupied. Besides, I only have one more month before I go on maternity leave.”

I sent it.

The next one was from Beckham, asking how I was and, of course, offering food as a cure for a broken heart. A small smile escaped my lips.

“Thanks for the offer, sir. But good food has been giving me heartburn lately, so it would be a broken heart and an upset stomach. Better to just stick with the broken heart.”

I sent it, then wrote another one:

“I’m fine, no need to worry. You can tell your boss that Dominic is probably much angrier with him than with me. After all, I still had the ace up my sleeve of being the mother of his children.”

The reply came almost immediately.

“I said exactly that. I don’t think he liked it, because I didn’t even get a thumbs-up emoji.”

I let out a low snort, shaking my head, but before I could reply, a voice filled the room.

“He’s asleep.”

My body reacted before my mind did; I jolted upright in bed, my heart racing as I looked up. Dominic was at the door, leaning against the frame with his eyes fixed on me.

Intense.

His hands in his pants pockets.

For a second, the air seemed heavier.

“Oh… thanks for doing that,” I said, automatically straightening my posture. “He really wouldn’t have slept if he hadn’t been with you tonight. He even threw a sock on the floor in protest.”

I tried to sit up, resting my hands on the mattress, but my belly got in the way. Before I could finish, I saw Dominic move instinctively. As if to help me, but he stopped mid-motion. His hand clenched into a fist, and he stepped back. I looked away, pretending not to notice, and tried again; this time I managed it, with very little grace, but I managed it.

“I’m leaving; I just came to say goodbye to him.”

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” I asked as I walked toward him, feeling each step heavier than it should be. My body felt sluggish, but inside everything was racing too fast.

“Yes, in the morning.” The answer came straight away.

“When are you coming back?” I hated the way my voice came out. Anxious, exposed, with no real attempt to hide what I was feeling.

He hesitated for an almost imperceptible second.

“I don’t know. I have some business to take care of in Russia; I don’t know how long it will take…”

I nodded slowly, trying to swallow the disappointment spreading through my chest like something dense and hard to ignore.

“It’s okay… just call when it’s his nap time. He misses you, and now that he’s had you back…” My voice softened at the end, almost breaking.

“I know. I wouldn’t leave him like that. I’ll miss him just as much as he misses me.”

I gave a small, sad smile that didn’t even reach my eyes.

“I know,” I murmured.

Then our eyes met, and we stood like that for a few seconds in silence. As if there were a thousand things between us, pushing, pressing, begging to be said… but none managing to break through the barrier we ourselves had created.

Dominic cleared his throat, breaking the moment.

“I have to go.” He took a step back.

I didn’t say anything; I couldn’t. We looked at each other again, and all I wanted was to take a step forward, close the distance, do exactly what Jamie had done… throw myself into his arms and pretend, for a second, that nothing had been broken between us, but I couldn’t, so I just stood there. Frozen, half-paralyzed, and just watching.

His eyes slowly traced my face, as if he were memorizing every detail; there was a low, almost stifled sigh… and then he turned and walked away.

I closed my eyes at that very moment, my fingers curling into my palm, as if I needed to physically restrain myself from calling him back, but I didn’t. Because that… that was what had to happen.

It was best for everyone.

Later that night, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. I had already counted every white wooden beam at least twice, maybe three times. My mind wouldn’t shut off, wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t give me any rest.

When my phone vibrated on the nightstand, the sound seemed too loud in the silence. I turned quickly, fumbling until I found it, bringing it close to my face as I sat up awkwardly, then saw the name on the screen. I closed my eyes for a second.

Of course. Of course he wouldn’t leave me alone.

“I don’t have any updates on my life for you,” I said bluntly, without patience.

On the other end, the reply came too calmly.

“I have all the updates I need. I know you went to pay Dominic a little visit today. I hope you two worked things out.” I pressed the phone against my ear, my jaw clenching.

God, I hated that man. And how did he know? Beckham hadn’t seen me leave, had he? Did he follow me?

“What do you want, Marco?”

“Dominic is going back to Russia tomorrow.”

“I know.” My reply was curt.

“You’re coming with him.” My whole body tensed.

“What?”

“You heard me, Maggie. Pack your things and your son’s… or don’t. Just be on that plane with Dominic.”

My heart started pounding.

“I’m not going back to Russia,” I said firmly.

“I’m not giving you a choice.” His voice changed; there was no more humor. There was no longer that light, sarcastic tone—he was serious. Cold and dangerous. “I got you out of here and took you back to your country. I want you back.”

“Marco…”

“You don’t want me to take your baby by force again and drag you back here, do you? I can do that easily.”

The air seemed to vanish from my lungs. My heart raced, not from anxiety now… but from fear. Pure and raw.

“Marco, I don’t want to go back,” I said, my voice cracking slightly despite my attempt to stay firm.

“That’s a shame, darling. You should have listened to me and left Seattle when I told you to.” My jaw trembled. “Now that Dominic knows the truth and is unpredictable, it’ll be easier to keep the situation under control with you here, so be on the plane with Dominic tomorrow. Beckham will take you to him… or, if I have to drag you back, it won’t be as comfortable as going back with your husband.”

And then… silence. The line went dead.

I slowly pulled the phone away from my ear, my fingers trembling, before letting it fall to my side, and then I cried. I cried like I hadn’t cried in a long time, without control. Hot tears streamed down my face, my chest ached, my breath faltered. I didn’t know how long I stayed like that… minutes, hours… everything blurred together, until, at some point, I simply stopped.

Not because I wanted to, but because I had no strength left. I got out of bed, my body heavy, my head throbbing, and began to pack my bags. Because I had no choice; Marco’s threats were never empty.

When the sun began to rise on the horizon, everything was ready. I hadn’t slept a wink; my eyes felt heavy and swollen, the deep dark circles betraying every second of the night I’d spent awake. I didn’t try to hide it—I didn’t have the energy for that. I tied my hair into a messy bun and put on comfortable clothes for the trip, which would be long and exhausting. Maybe the last one before the baby is born. My hand automatically went to my belly. I was almost eight months along.

I woke Jamie gently, changed his clothes, and placed the giraffe in his hands. He was still sleepy, his eyes half-closed, his body limp; he’d probably fall asleep again on the way. As we were leaving the room, the doorbell rang. I didn’t even need to ask who it was; I went to the door and opened it.

Beckham was there.

He looked at me for a second… and the smile that appeared on his face was small and sad. Probably seeing exactly how I looked.

“Hi, neighbor. It sucks that you won’t be my neighbor anymore. I’d already gotten used to it.”

I shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of lightheartedness.

“Now you can turn your music up as loud as you want.”

He let out a snort, waving.

“Yeah, I’ll do that with you in mind.”

His eyes drifted down to Jamie, and he bent down, picking him up.

“I’m going to miss you, kid.”

Jamie stared at him for a second, furrowing his brow as if trying to process it, then simply gave in. His head fell onto his shoulder, and he hugged him.

“Thanks, buddy. I hope we meet again,” Beckham murmured, and I looked away—I couldn’t cry again.

The drive to the airport was silent, and yet it didn’t feel long enough. In less than half an hour, Beckham pulled up. He got out of the car, helped with the bags and with Jamie, and we walked over to where the private jet was. My heart started beating faster the moment I saw Dominic spot me.

He was climbing the steps to the plane… he stopped and turned around, then came back down. I quickened my pace without realizing it, walking ahead of Beckham, as if something were pulling me toward that inevitable moment.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice came out harshly when I got close enough.

I stopped in front of him, lifted my chin, and stared him down.

“I’m going to Russia with you.”