- Dimitri Sokolov:
I was in the kitchen, the quiet rhythm of rinsing plates and sealing containers in the fridge filling the air.
Leftover lasagna lay in a pan on the counter, still warm from earlier, a comfort I hoped someone else might appreciate as much as I did.
I had dinner alone already, Upstairs, Alexei was shut away in his room.
He had not come down for dinner, and I could not blame him—our household had taken on a new level of tension since we brought Nikolai today.
As for Nikolai himself, he had not even eaten lunch let alone dinner, and something in me tightened at the thought of him going hungry.
There was enough chaos in his life already; the least I could do was offer him a hot meal, to let him know he was not alone in this strange and terrifying place he had landed in.
Gathering two plates, I sliced generous portions of lasagna, the cheese stretching and melting as I lifted them onto the dishes.
