She had seen Ivan countless times—always confident, always strong. But today, he looked different. Quiet. Fragile, even. When he came inside, slumping onto the couch like a weight she wasn’t used to, she knew he needed more than just a place to sit.

Without a word, she pulled a soft blanket around him and gently lifted his head into her lap. His fever-warm skin pressed softly against her, and as she ran her fingers through his thick hair, she could feel the tension slowly fading from his shoulders.

This was the side of Ivan few people saw—the tired, vulnerable part he kept hidden beneath layers of strength. And it made her heart ache in a way only a mother’s could.

She didn’t need to say anything. Just being here, steady and calm, was enough.

When Till came home later, she saw the relief in his eyes. He didn’t need to ask; he understood. Sometimes the toughest people just need to be held.

And right now, Ivan needed that.