[ANASTASIA]
For the next few days, I hardly bump into Ivan. Even if I do catch a glimpse of him, it’s only in passing.
I try not to be bothered by it. I mean, why should I? I should be happy and content that he is minding his own business instead of making my life harder. I’m happy with my kids, and that’s all that matters.
But, stupidly enough, I can’t help but steal glances at him. I tell myself that it’s only for my own sanity and because I would hate to be surprised if he tried to approach me suddenly. But more often than not, I can tell it’s a lie that I can’t even sell to myself.
I hate myself for it. I really do. But it bothers me irrationally that he’s beating himself up for what happened—the abduction attempt, that is. I can tell because it happened before, and his reaction ba
