We head straight to Val’s place. As we step into her apartment, I’m struck by the complete silence. A flicker of worry runs through me, and I quickly kick off my shoes, rushing into the living room. Relief washes over me as I see my little sunshine curled up asleep on the couch. Arina, Val’s niece, is lounging in a soft armchair, phone in hand. She glances up at me for just a second before returning to whatever she’s typing on the screen.
I approach my daughter and kneel beside her, reaching out to gently touch her dark curls, brushing my fingers lightly over her head. She purses her lips but doesn’t wake. I hate the thought of disturbing her, but we need to head home. I decide to give her another half hour and quietly stand up.
“Thanks for watching her,” I whisper softly to Arina.
If it weren’t for this girl, I wouldn’t know what I’d do. Katya and I are on our own in this city, and when I have to run errands or handle business, I’m at a loss for where to leave her. Thankfully, Arina agreed to babysit from time to time when she doesn’t have university classes, for a small fee, of course.
“No problem,” she shrugs. “Your Katya is calm and doesn’t fuss. Compared to my younger brothers, she’s an angel.”
I smile and nod in response. Yes, I know her family well—they live not far from my parents. Val has been working in the city for a while now, renting an apartment, while her sister—Arina’s mom—got married right after high school and settled into family life.
I head to the kitchen, where Val has already put the kettle on and set out two mugs for coffee. A hot drink sounds perfect right now. I sit down on a stool at the table, and Val settles across from me.
“So, what are you going to do now?” she asks, fixing me with a probing look.
If only I knew. Running into my ex—and the father of my child—wasn’t part of my plan. And to top it off, it had to happen right in front of her portrait. Though I doubt he’d put two and two together, there’s still a faint resemblance between them.
“If you mean Artem, I’ll do my best to avoid him as much as possible,” I say with determination.
“Right,” Val snorts. “All your paintings are hanging in his gallery. I’m sure you’ll never cross paths.”
“He can’t be there all the time. You said yourself he owns plenty of other properties.”
“True. But now he knows you’ll be there,” she clicks her tongue, grabbing a cookie from the sugar bowl and taking a bite.
“I doubt I’m of any interest to him. It’s been six years. If he cared, he would’ve shown up sooner.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he had his reasons.”
I don’t like that my friend is starting to make excuses for the man who abandoned me. Especially considering the consequences of that abandonment, who are currently asleep on the couch. Though, in a way, I’m grateful to him for that. Katya is everything that matters to me.
“If he loved me, no reason would’ve stopped him,” I say irritably, turning my gaze to the window.
The view from the eighth floor is expansive. I still can’t get used to such heights. Back in our small town, the tallest buildings are only five stories.
The kettle boils, and Val brews us coffee. The rich aroma fills the kitchen, and I eagerly press my lips to the warm ceramic mug.
“What are you going to do about the little one?” Val asks after a brief silence, sipping her tea and glancing at me over the rim. “You need to get her into a daycare. Otherwise, you won’t be able to manage your work properly. And trust me, if people take an interest in your paintings, you’ll have plenty on your plate.”
“I know,” I sigh wearily. “But who’s going to take us in as newcomers, especially in the spring? All the daycares are full—I’ve already checked. And I don’t think I’ll have much work anyway. My paintings will hang in the gallery for a week, and that’ll probably be the end of it.”
“You’re underestimating yourself,” Val says, pointing a finger at me. “People like your work. I saw how much interest there was. If you’d stayed, you would’ve noticed it yourself.”
Easy for her to say. My hands are still shaking from the encounter with Artem. I wasn’t mentally prepared for this. I need time to gather my thoughts.
“I don’t think I missed out on anything,” I insist. “But I did save my nerves.”
“It’s strange to hear that from you,” Val says, surprised. “You’ve dreamed of this exhibition for so long. You prepared so hard. I spent six months looking for a gallery willing to showcase your work, and without an upfront fee, no less.”
She pouts as if she’s offended, though I know she’s not. Val never holds a grudge against anyone. It’s just her nature. She’s also incredibly understanding, so I know she won’t blame me. She’ll just talk it out, and that’s it.
“I’m not giving up on the exhibition,” I say, reaching across to touch her hand and squeezing her fingers. “I just left early today. If they call, I’ll say I wasn’t feeling well. Everything will be fine. I’m sure of it.”
Val looks at me intently and gives me a warm, friendly smile.
We sit in the kitchen a little longer, then I go to wake Katya. I dress my sleepy daughter in her jacket, say goodbye to Val and Arina, and we head home.
I’m renting a one-bedroom apartment in the building next door. It’s nothing fancy, no luxurious renovations, but it’s cozy. Even this modest place in the city costs me a fortune, and it’s eaten up nearly all my savings. I had high hopes for this gallery, thinking I might secure a long-term contract with them. But now I’m at a loss. How can I work with an ex who caused me so much pain? And would he even want to work with me? Honestly, I have no idea what comes next.
A little while later, the gallery assistant does call, asking where I disappeared to. I tell her I wasn’t feeling well and had to go home. She wishes me a speedy recovery and hangs up. I set the phone down on the table and smile at Katya, who’s sitting on the soft rug, playing with dolls I recently bought her. As I thought, nothing terrible happened, despite Val’s earlier panic. I sit down beside my daughter and help her brush the hair of one of her princess dolls. It’s her favorite—she insists this one looks like me, though I don’t see the resemblance.
My phone buzzes to life again. An unknown number flashes on the screen. For a moment, fear grips me—what if it’s Artem calling? I hesitate at first but eventually answer. I can’t be scared of every unfamiliar number.
“Good afternoon,” a very pleasant female voice greets me. “Is this Eva Smakovska?”
“Yes,” I reply uncertainly.
“I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Victoria. I got your number from the gallery where your paintings are on display today. I wanted to speak with you, but you left so quickly. I just have to say, your paintings are absolutely wonderful.”
Her polite tone and kind words win me over, making me more open to conversation.
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” I say, smiling shyly.
“And I’d like to ask a favor, if you don’t mind. I’ve always dreamed of having a portrait done, but I can’t seem to find the right artist. Would you be so kind as to paint me? It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time.”
I wasn’t expecting such a request. I freeze, unsure of how to respond. Aside from family, I’ve never painted portraits for anyone else.
“I’m not sure. I’m not a professional. I’m certain there are plenty of talented, well-known artists at the gallery who could do it.”
“But I want you,” she interrupts quickly, then softens her tone. “Please don’t worry. I’ll pay you well. I just really admire your style.”
“I’m still not sure,” I say hesitantly.
I’m nervous about taking on a commission for a stranger. I’m not confident I can deliver exactly what she wants. I don’t want to disappoint her, especially if she’s paying. Though the money would certainly help. It could be a starting point for this new venture.
“Let’s meet tomorrow at a café, any one you’d like. We can chat, and you can give me your final answer then,” she persists. She’s confident and doesn’t seem willing to back down.
I’ve always admired people like that. I wish I could be as assertive.
“Alright,” I relent. “But I’m not promising anything. I’ve never done something like this before, and I’m not sure I’m the right fit for you.”
“I’m sure you are. I’ll text you the address and time for our meeting.”
“Okay.”
We say goodbye, and I place the phone back on the table with trembling hands. Katya looks up at me with curious eyes.
“Looks like I’ll need to find someone to watch you again tomorrow,” I tell her. “Mommy might have a little side job.”
“That’s fine. I like playing with Arina,” she says happily.
She’s young, but she understands that Mommy needs to earn money. We’re always together, never apart. That’s why I couldn’t leave her with my mom, who doesn’t have much free time either, working shifts at a store.
I’ll have to call Arina again, though I’m not sure she’ll agree. I’ve been asking her a lot lately. Even if she doesn’t always attend university classes, she might have her own plans.