Ivan’s grip remained firm until a small voice pierced the tension between them. “Mommy...” came the soft, innocent call. It was like a chime, so pure and out of place amidst the storm of emotions.
Ivan’s body went rigid, his eyes snapping to the source of the voice. Standing just a few steps away was a tiny girl, no more than two years old. She had one finger tucked in her mouth, her wide, curious eyes—his eyes—fixed on them with confusion. Her orange hair, a perfect match to Arisha’s, caught the light, and her tiny lips formed a hesitant pout. She was like a miniature, innocent reflection of Arisha, but with his piercing blue eyes staring back at him.
Ivan’s breath caught, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. Mommy. The word echoed in his mind like a gunshot.
Arisha, too, wen
