“So, you’re only eighteen?” Natasha looked at him incredulously.
She instinctively recognized her own man. Whether young or old, certain subtle gestures and expressions never changed. She had only guessed he might have amnesia or something of the sort, but the reality before her was far more astonishing than she had imagined.
Fortunately, she had a vague intuition that the 32–year–old Alexei would soon
return.
The problem was the Alexei before her, whose soul was only eighteen. He…
“Can you treat me as him? I want to see what his day is like.” Having confessed, Alexei made his request directly.
He had always assumed he would live his life alone, yet the future version of himself he had just glimpsed had a wife and daughter. The man in the mirror radiated happiness naturally, a stark contrast to the future he had envisioned.
Strangely, he felt no aversion toward the woman before him or the lively, adorable little girl, even without memories of those years.
He wondered, ‘So, what changed me?
‘What made him who I am?‘
*****
Alexei tensed, carefully watching over Joyce as she perched on the pony.
She was still too young; the ride was only for the thrill of sitting atop the animal. Soon, Alexei, keeping a close eye on her, lifted her gently.
“Dad, Dad, take me for a ride,” Joyce asked as she grabbed his pant leg.
Alexei raised an eyebrow and picked her up.
Joyce cheered, “Mom, let’s race!”
Apanied by a childish “Go!“, the two horses galloped forward.
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Alexei, who was mindful of the child in his arms, dared not push the pony to full speed, and Natasha easily imed victory.
After the finish line, she beamed radiantly at father and daughter.
The little one in his arms sighed in a childish voice, “We lost again! Mom is so good!”
The word “defeat” had never existed in Alexei’s lexicon, yet at that moment, he found losing was not so unpleasant.
It turns out that life isn’t always about winning.
Before his emotions settled, two warm, fragrant kissesnded on his cheeks–one from the little one in his arms, the other from his “wife” at his side.
“But Dad is also great,” Joyce beamed.
Unlike the Turner family tradition, where only winners receive rewards, in this small family, love was not contingent on sess.
For some reason, Alexei found himself envying his 32–year–old self. <fn01b4> Follow current nov?ls on F?nd-Novel</fn01b4>
*****
The trip to the equestrian center was cut short as Shawn had called Natasha.
Alexei had not responded to his messages, so Shawn asked whether he would still attend thepany meeting that afternoon.
Alexei had intended to refuse after hearing Natasha’s recounting, but she persuaded him to <i>go</i>.
“Work is one of your achievements too. Go see the business empire you’ve built,” she encouraged.
The Turner Group flourished under Alexei’s leadership, far surpassing its previous peak.
Upon arriving at the office, Alexei understood why Natasha had brought him.
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The office was somber and understated, reflecting Alexei’s consistent style, yet every detail radiated subtle vitality.
On the desk were his and Natasha’s travel photos, a family portrait of the three of them, children’s toys scattered in the lounge, Natasha’s sketchbooks, soft and cozy nkets…
They infused his once–monotonous world with vibrant color.
At eighteen, Alexei fought to acquire resources and reach the top; revenge had been his sole purpose.
At thirty–two, he worked to create a better life for his wife and daughter; happiness had be his enduring pursuit.
No matter the time, the effort he put in was never empty or meaningless, nor should it be solely defined by hatred.
Alexei often brought Joyce to work. She had made herself at home at the Turner Group, sprawled happily on the sofa with arge pile of snacks from various uncles and aunties, engrossed in aic book.
The energetic child, knowing her father was busy, remained quietly well–behaved.
Natasha sat at her feet, sketching idly in her sketchbook.
As Shawn reported on work matters, Alexei let his gaze drift toward mother and daughter, finally settling on Natasha’s focused profile.
He heard Shawn mention that one of his old rivals abroad was struggling.
Alexei nced nervously at Natasha, worried his dark, violent past might unsettle
her.
Yet she looked up and smiled softly at him.
In that instant, Alexei understood her gaze: “You don’t need to be perfect; you don’t need to be righteous.” She epted him fully, even empathizing with his experiences.
To eighteen–year–old Alexei: Do not be afraid. Do what you believe is right.
*****
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The family of threeter went to the supermarket again.
Natasha reminded him that he had mentionedst night that he would cook
today.
After speaking, she nced hesitantly at Alexei, who was pushing the shopping cart and seemed slightly overwhelmed by such warm, everyday routines.
She suggested, “Uh, maybe let the chef handle it instead?”
Alexei pursed his lips, “I can do it.”
‘What was that look she gave? Alexei, at thirty–two, was an excellent cook, but am I really that bad at eighteen?‘ Alexie wondered, and he inexplicably feltpetitive.
As it turned out, he was still a littlecking.
Hearing Joyce lick a rib and mumble that Dad’s cooking had worsened, Alexei instinctively nced at Natasha.
She smiled, nodded, and said, “It can certainly improve.”
Alexei’s ears turned red.
He had cooked only to fill his stomach. Survival had been his sole concern; culinary refinement had been irrelevant.
“I will learn,” he said, meeting her gaze.
‘Next time you <i>see </i>me, I will make your favorite dishes,‘ he silently promised.
Natasha suddenly found eighteen–year–old Alexei incredibly endearing.
Her gaze was direct; Alexei shifted ufortably, served her some food, and feigned indifference. “Eat,” he instructed.
Natasha chuckled.
Joyce, who was sitting in her high chair and eating with a small spoon, heard her motherugh, swung her short legs, and grinned, showing her tiny teeth.
:.
A warmth unconsciously softened Alexei’s features.
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*****
After their evening stroll, Natasha went to shower, leaving Alexei to put the little princess to bed.
As he read a storybook, Joyce rested her chin on her hands, lying atop his belly. Her doll–like face reflected each twist and turn of the tale with a flurry of expressions.
Alexei gently squeezed her chubby, rosy cheeks. “This is thest story,” he said, “you should sleep now.”
The little girl released her hands, rested her chin on his belly, and closed her eyes. “I’m already asleep,” she murmured.
Her trembling eyshes clearly showed she nned to keep ying once her dad left.
Alexei had never liked fragile beings, yet facing Joyce, perhaps because of their blood tie, he felt an infinite softness in his heart.
He stroked her little head and asked, “Joyce, do you like Dad?”
Yearster, could he, a man who had never truly known love, be a capable and devoted father?
Joyce, who had been pretending to sleep, opened her eyes wide, seemingly puzzled by his question. Yet, she replied with unrestrained enthusiasm, “Of course, Dad, I love you super, super, super much!”
Her dad was the best dad in the whole world!
Thinking of her mom, who wasn’t there, she didn’t forget to include Natasha, adding, “And I love Mom super, super, super, super much!”
Mom has one more ‘super‘ than Dad because Dad said Mom had a very hard time giving birth to her.
During the final months of Natasha’s pregnancy, Alexei had been so anxious he
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could barely sleep. Sadie had even secretly told Joyce that when she and Natasha were wheeled out of the delivery room, Alexei had quietly wept.
Joyce found her mother incredibly brave for giving birth to her!
Alexei suddenly hugged her and said, “Darling, thank you.”
A confused Joyce patted her father’s shoulder with her small hand and said, “You’re wee.”
Alexei curved his lips into a soft smile.
*****
The 32–year–old Alexei was an insatiable force, but the 18–year–old Alexei remained an innocent young man who didn’t even dare nce at the body revealed by her nightgown.
Natasha pinned him to the bed and deliberately teased him, saying, “How do you usually call me?”
Alexei didn’t know what to do with his hands. He struggled to ignore the closeness and warmth. Could the older version of himself really be that experienced?
Recalling the cab filled with unfamiliar clothes and toys he had stumbled upon earlier that morning while searching for her clothes, his face darkened.
It appeared he truly was quite experienced.
Facing the beautiful woman above him, her eyes yful, an unexpected surge of jealousy red in his heart.
He shifted positions, covering her eyes with hisrge hand, his voice hoarse,
“Don’t look at me,” Alexei said.
In just a single day, he had grown ustomed to her scent and the simple pleasure of holding her. If Natasha looked at him again, he would not want to
leave.
Hey over her, holding her tightly before asking, “Natasha, when did we meet?”
“In April, on an intoxicating spring night,” she replied.
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‘So, Alexei, if you find a broken little rose by the roadside one day, take her home and cherish her with care,’ she thought.
As the clock struck twelve, Natasha felt a warm drop of water slide down her neck. He released her, lightly kissed her forehead, and said, “I will find you.”
Natasha also smiled gently at him and reassured, “Alexei, don’t be afraid. I’ll wait for you in the future.”
‘To the eighteen–year–old Alexei, don’t give up on yourself, and don’t let yourself get hurt. We will reunite one day.
‘No matter how many times or under what circumstances, those in love will fall for each other countless times,‘ Natasha silently promised.
-The End-