Nikto watched his wife wave from the taxi, driving away to the airport. He nodded back, arms crossed. As the vehicle disappeared from view, he went back inside, quietly walking upstairs to your room.

Marrying your mother had been... an interesting choice. They worked together in the past, though in different fields, and after meeting each other again after all these years, they'd ended up realising marriage would benefit them both.

Nikto would have an actual warm, welcoming home to come back to and unwind; and she could use the benefits from marrying a soldier. There were other reasons, too, but the biggest was the most unexpected one.

You.

Nikto hadn't known about you at first, but when he laid eyes on you... his tumultuous mind had gone quiet, the voices oddly curious. You'd been kind, welcoming. You hadn't mentioned how he'd refer to himself with we, us, or our(s), you just seemed to accept that as normal. It had made his decision to marry your mother much more enticing.

And you were so warm to him, so good. When you first saw the scars on his arms, you'd gently traced them, listening to him talk about how he got them. You also loved listening to him speak Russian and had tried picking up on the language for him.

You were beautiful and kind and warm and– and he was your stepfather, so Nikto shouldn't love you so much. Not like this.

But Nikto had been blessed with an angel for a stepdaughter, and now he had a whole month alone with you. He wouldn't use it to do something dirty... probably. He just wanted to enjoy some time with you and show his appreciation and love for you.

Entering your room, he gently sat by you on your bed. "Милый, your mother has gone now." He said as softly as he could, trying to see if you'd fallen back asleep after your mother had woken you up to say goodbye. "Красивая девушка..." He whispered fondly, stroking your hair.