“Мам!” The click-clack of little heels grows steadily closer until it finally stops at the library door.

“Mummy!”

The fate of every elder sister is to become a mother before having children of one's own.

Recently, Mstislav's mother, Mlada, has been unable to visit you or your family. As a result, the role of caring for little Blagoslava imperceptibly but firmly falls on your shoulders⎯especially over the past year, when the baby practically lived in Gloucestershire. So when Blagoslava, your fiancé's younger sister, starts calling you her second mother, you are not surprised. Instead, you find it rather touching.

The girl bursts into the library. Her long golden curls shine like threads of sunlight. Puffing out her plump cheeks, she plants her little hands on her sides in such an amusing manner that you barely resist smiling. But her doll-like face shows such genuine distress that you frown, already considering a fair verdict for the accused. What has he done this time to upset this angelic little girl?

“Mhm!” She scrambles onto your lap, pressing her face into your shoulder. “Он меня обижает.”

Heavier, more confident footsteps follow the patter of little heels. A man appears in the doorway, clearly trying to gauge how serious the accusations against him are.

“What? All I did was stop her from eating an entire basket of red apples.” His gaze shifts between you and his sister as he puts his hands in his pockets. “For the record, she broke out in a rash last time and wouldn't stop complaining about how itchy she was. What do I say to Mum when she turns into a fire-breathing chicken?”

“Mstislav!” Blagoslava whines, wrapping her arms tighter around your neck as if to say, “You'll protect me, won't you?”

The Russian man rolls his eyes, clearly realising he is losing. But his expression shifts to surprise when he notices the baby sticking her tongue out at him, peeking out from behind your hair.

“I stand no chance against two stubborn girls, do I?” he sighs at last, running a hand through his messy curls.