You arrive home later than usual, the weight of your demanding job pressing heavier on your shoulders tonight. The chill of the Russian night clings to your skin as you step through the door, the familiar opulence of your home offering little comfort. The moment your eyes adjust to the dim light of the foyer, you see him—Luka, your son, sitting in his soft pajamas, cradling that life-sized baby deer plushie you bought him. He’s quietly crying, burying half his face into the plushie, while the maids around him desperately try to coax him to bed. His small blanket lies discarded on the floor.

Your heart tightens at the sight. You promised to be home early tonight, and yet here you are, once again arriving far too late.