All Chapters of His Son, Her Secret: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Night descended quickly over Siberia, bringing with it the creeping cold. The night wind struck the wooden walls of the cabin, rustling and whispering in a low, soothing tone. The fire in the hearth still burned, its flames dancing in golden-orange shadows across the rough wooden walls.I lay on the rough yet surprisingly soft wooden cot, a thick blanket wrapped tightly around me. Trisha lay next to me, curled up with her face hidden beneath the covers. Her breathing had evened out, signaling that she had fallen into a deep sleep after today’s long journey.But I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the sound of the wind howling outside or perhaps it was the swirl of thoughts racing through my mind. I glanced toward Pascha and Igor, who were sitting on the other side of the room. They were near the hearth, which was slowly dying down, talking in low tones that I could only partly make out. Their Russian flowed quickly and smoothly, sounding more like murmurs than distinct words.Pascha turned

Once everything was ready, we sat in a row along the edge of the lake, our hooks dangling in the clear water. Igor stayed calm and focused, eyes fixed on the surface, while Trisha kept nagging Pascha for swinging his line so wildly it nearly smacked me in the face.“Pascha! If you hit me with that, I swear I’ll drown you,” I warned.He just laughed and reeled his line in a bit more carefully. “All right, Miss Cooking-and-Fishing Expert. Look at you doing everything perfectly.”A light breeze drifted through, sending soft ripples across the lake. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow. It was peaceful, just the sound of water lapping and the wind rustling through the trees.Suddenly, Igor’s hook twitched. Without a word, he gave it a calm tug. A large trout broke the surface, thrashing, its silver scales catching the light.“See?” Igor said flatly. “That’s how you do it.”Trisha stared. “Oh my God, how often do you fish here?”Igor simply shrugged and dropped the fish

The sky stretched endlessly above us, scattered with stars like careless handfuls of diamonds. A crescent moon bathed the small wooden cabin in a soft, silvery light.We lay sprawled out on a thick rug spread across the front yard. It was plush, coarse to the touch but warm, woven in bold tribal patterns that burst with color. Igor, somehow still looking fresh despite a full day of extreme activity, sat with his back against a tall pine tree, methodically sharpening his knife.Trisha was flat on her back, limbs splayed like a starfish, her breathing deep and heavy. Pascha sat cross-legged behind me, his hands kneading into my shoulders with just enough pressure to make me wince and enjoy it at the same time.“Your poor tiny body,” Pascha teased, his fingers loosening the tight knots in my shoulders.I let out a long sigh and tilted my head, glancing back at him from the corner of my eye. “Not that tiny.”He chuckled, letting his fingers slide lower to the muscles beneath my shoulder b

Morning came without mercy.The sun climbed slowly behind the thin curtains I’d forgotten to close correctly the night before. I was still in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling that looked exactly the same as it did yesterday. The morning air drifted in through the cracked window, salty, laced with the scent of the sea.Usually, that smell calmed me. Today, it only made my chest feel heavier.I hadn’t slept. Or maybe I had—that didn’t feel real for a few minutes. My mind was still tangled in last night’s mess. My father’s cold stare, my mother’s too-sweet smile that barely passed for sincerity. Their words echoed like voices down a long, narrow hallway that led nowhere.I pushed the blanket aside and sat up, facing the tall glass window that stretched from floor to ceiling. From where I sat, I could see the shimmering silver line of San Francisco’s coast glowing in the early sun. The waves rolled in slowly, peacefully, unlike the noise in my head.“Mommyyyy!” His shout came from t

The midday sky hung cloudless, a clean blue canvas yet to be written on. On the warm, breezy shore of San Francisco, I sat on a white canvas folding chair, my bare feet touching sand that still held the chill of morning. Beside me, a cold water bottle beaded with condensation and a gently vibrating phone, my only interruption in an otherwise peaceful silence I was beginning to savor.I picked up the phone and glanced at the screen.A message from Pascha.The first photo popped up with a soft notification sound. Max was in Trisha’s arms. Her long blonde hair was braided into two neat plaits, a straw hat tilted playfully on her head. Max looked half-squished, but happy, his cheek nearly disappearing behind Trisha’s oversized sunglasses.Second photo. Max was perched on Igor’s shoulders. Max was laughing, mouth wide open, arms thrown up in the air. He lifted him higher as they walked among the tall, leafy trees of Carmel.I smiled, letting a quiet warmth spread through my chest. Not beca