Page 157 of Sexting the Pakhan

Then I see his hair.

There are tiny clips in it.

Not one. Many. Pink butterfly clip near his temple. Yellow star clip holding back a strand above his ear. Two glittery snap clips placed unevenly on the other side. One purple bow sitting near the top of his head like it lost a war and stayed out of spite.

Mila looks up first. “Mama, we made him fancy.”

Ruslan looks at me without moving his head. His face is completely serious. I press my lips together, trying very hard not to laugh.

“What,” I ask slowly, “happened here?”

Mila sits up proudly. “He had hair.”

Nadia says, “That’s not an explanation.”

“He said we could,” Mila says.

I look at Ruslan.

He says, “I did not say that.”

Mila gasps. “You did.”

“I said you could show me the clips.”

The girls giggle.

“Never encourage them,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Ruslan turns his eyes to Mila. “I’m learning.”

I cover my mouth.

Nadia nods. “He asked why the father is a dog but still has human responsibilities.”

Ruslan says, “It was a reasonable question.”

I lose the fight and laugh.

Ruslan watches me when it happens.

The smile fades from my mouth because I notice. He’s not looking at the girls now. He’s looking at me. And for a second, with plastic clips in his hair and a children’s cartoon on the TV, there’s nothing soft about his gaze. It’s focused. Possessive. Too familiar.

My laugh dies.

Mila doesn’t notice. She points at the screen. “Mama, sit. This is the important part.”

“I have work,” I say.

“You always have work,” Mila says.

Nadia says, “But this episode is short.”

I look at the laptop in my room, then at the two of them pressed against Ruslan like this is normal.

It is not normal. None of this is normal.

But they are calm. For the first time since last night, they are calm.