Chapter Text
Now, 2039.
“I HATE HIM.”
The girl stormed into the house, slamming the front door behind her with all the force she could muster.
“Fuck, Ilyana!” Shane, who had been peacefully reading on the couch, now struggled to catch his breath after the scare. “Are you trying to kill me?”
He grabbed his glasses and put them back on so he could get a better look at just how upset she was. She was cursing under her breath, getting angry even at her own suitcases, which seemed determined not to cooperate with her impatient stride.
“What are you doing here?” Stepan asked as he came down the stairs, curious to see his sister barging into the house yelling. She was supposed to be staying at Ilya’s.
“I never want to talk to him again. Ever again. You can go spend the week with him instead of me if you want, Stepan. I’m never going back there.”
Shane rose from the couch and walked over to the window to see who had brought his daughter home. He carefully adjusted the curtains, trying to peek outside while hiding at the same time.
Luckily, it wasn’t him.
Just a taxi already pulling away from the curb. Ilyana rolled her eyes at her father’s teenage-level behavior.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I got a taxi. I wouldn’t have stayed in the same car as him if my life depended on it.”
Shane coughed and quickly looked away, embarrassed. Trying to convince both his children and himself that no, he absolutely did not care whether his ex-husband was outside. Of course not.
“Ilyana, sweetheart,” he began, doing his best to keep his voice calm. “What happened this time, hm? Everything seemed fine when he came to pick you up...”
“It was! Until he...” She groaned in frustration. “...ruined everything.” Her face, already flushed red with anger, suddenly crumpled into tears. She turned away, trying to hide it as she searched for her carry-on among the pile of luggage scattered across the living room floor. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to be alone.”
And then, almost as quickly as she had arrived, Ilyana stomped off toward her room. Shane and Stepan exchanged a silent glance, both trying to process the hurricane that was Ilyana.
“Come on. Help me with these suitcases.” Shane’s request earned a lazy sigh, but Stepan obeyed without complaint, as he always did.
“What do you think happened this time?” he asked while trying to zip up one of his sister’s absurdly overstuffed sweatshirt-filled suitcases.
“I have no idea, but you know how your sister is.” They shared a knowing smile.
“Yeah, I do. But...” Stepan hesitated. “I also know how Papa is.” He glanced at his father cautiously after mentioning him. “He’s always so chill about everything. It’s hard to get him genuinely mad. Ilyana must have done something.”
“You should know. You’re her brother.”
Shane’s response made Stepan laugh. It was such a classic only-child assumption that siblings always told each other everything. He also didn’t miss the way his father was steering the conversation away from Ilya. He was used to it. Shane had been doing that for years.
“I don't think she’ll tell me. You could just ask him what happened and-”
“No.” The answer came before Stepan had even finished speaking. Shane immediately regretted how sharp it sounded. “I mean... there’s no need. This has happened before, you know. She’ll cool down, and they’ll be fine again soon. You’ll see.” Truthfully, scenes like this involving his eldest daughter were nothing unusual.
She had a strong personality, to put it mildly.
Ilyana was kind, outgoing, and friendly to everyone because she genuinely loved having people around her. And, admittedly, she was a little spoiled.
That was entirely Ilya and Shane’s fault. From the moment their children were born, they had used every privilege at their disposal to give them whatever they wanted. The kids had always had everything: toys, clothes, vacations, top-of-the-line skating equipment, the best coaches, the best classes. Yuna and David were the grandparents constantly trying to set limits, making sure Shane and Ilya didn’t go overboard and accidentally raise selfish, entitled children.
Fortunately, they had grown into thoughtful and compassionate young people, just like their parents.
Still, there were moments when one small unmet wish could become the end of the world for a teenager on the verge of adulthood.
Both Ilya and Shane understood that being the only girl in the family, aside from Grandma Yuna, couldn’t always be easy. So they did everything they could to make sure their daughter never felt alone or misunderstood.
Shane had always handled things as logically as possible, trying to keep his children’s drama from spiraling out of control unnecessarily. Ilya, on the other hand, was the more permissive one. The one who teased, joked, and lightened the mood until everyone ended up laughing. But whenever he had to put his foot down and enforce a boundary, Ilyana lost her mind.
Like when she was seven and he told her she couldn’t wear her skating collant dress to school. Or when he forbade her from skating on the frozen lake with the hockey players who trained at the same rink. Or when he told her she could only attend her best friend’s party if she took Stepan with her. Simple situations. The kind that happened in every family and would eventually become funny stories.
But now, with Ilyana only months away from turning eighteen, Shane had hoped she would be a little more mature. More willing to compromise. Especially with Ilya.
So he wasn’t really worried. As much as it broke his heart to see his daughter cry, he was certain this would blow over soon enough.
-
Stepan knocked on the door. He got no answer, but went in anyway.
He had to wrestle with his sister for several minutes to stop her from physically kicking him out of the room. Even though she was three years older, Stepan was considerably stronger by now. So eventually, after a barrage of insults and Shane threatening to come upstairs and put an end to the sibling feud himself, Ilyana finally gave in.
At first, she stayed curled up on her bed, pointedly ignoring her brother's pathetic presence. But Ilyana was talkative. She needed to vent. Needed to unload her frustration onto someone. And as annoying as her younger brother could be, they were still each other's best friends and closest confidants. So she told him everything. She explained what had happened between her and Papa Ilya.
This time, however, to her surprise, Stepan refused to take her side.
"You crossed a line this time, Ilyana."
"Oh, fuck off, Stepan." She hurled a pillow at him. He blocked it effortlessly.
"No, seriously. You know Papa is kind of private about this stuff. He always gives in to you eventually, so if he's saying no this time, he probably has a good reason."
"Well, I don't think so." Ilyana's voice sharpened immediately. "He didn't give me any explanation at all. He just said no." She was still furious. Her face remained flushed from the moment she'd walked through the front door.
"Either way, you can't stay mad at him like this." Stepan shrugged. "He loves when we spend time with him. I bet he was really hurt by your meltdown."
"MELTDOWN?"
Stepan closed his eyes. Wrong word.
"You only say that because they never tell you no!" Now she was shouting loud enough that Shane could probably hear every word downstairs. "Being the younger sibling is so much easier. Especially when you're a guy."
"Ugh, come on, Ilyana." Stepan rolled his eyes. "They're just as paranoid about me too and you know it."
"That's convenient for you to say." She folded her arms across her chest. "And I bet the only reason you're trying to make me apologize to Papa is because you and Dad Shane want to keep having your little plans without me around."
"Well..." Stepan hesitated. "I was really looking forward to spending some time alone with him." Now he was finally getting irritated too. "But you already ruined that for me. If I want to do anything with him now, we'll have to put up with your bad mood and your bitch face the whole time."
"Fuck you!" The tears came back instantly. "Get out of my room, get out right now!" She shoved him off the bed, though she barely needed to use any force.
Stepan was already standing. He knew there was no chance of reaching any kind of peace with his sister while she was like this.
A second later, the bedroom door slammed shut again. The sharp crack echoed down the hallway, making Stepan physically flinch. He stood outside the room for a moment, listening to his sister cry. The kind of broken, miserable sobbing that seeped through walls. His own eyes filled with tears. But none of them fell. Taking a shaky breath, he turned and retreated to his own room across the hall, locking the door behind him. More than anything, he wanted to go sit with Dad Shane. But he couldn't. He knew he'd either snap at him for no reason or sit there in complete silence, answering only with nods and shrugs.
Shane didn't deserve that. Neither did Ilya. They deserved perfect children.
Shane and Ilya had never, never yelled at them. Never offered them anything less than love. Less than comfort. Less than a safe harbor, even in the middle of chaos.
Stepan hated himself for thinking that he and Ilyana were terrible children. Hated himself for wondering whether all those arguments… whether the reason their parents weren't together anymore… was somehow their fault.
Before.
It took nearly a decade for Ilya and Shane's relationship to finally settle into something real.
There were years of secret meetings, buried feelings, and carefully maintained distance before the reality of staying apart became unbearable.
And once they finally allowed themselves to live the love they deserved, everything else in their lives seemed to unfold at breakneck speed. Coming out to Shane's parents. Telling their friends and teammates. Founding the organizations that meant so much to both of them. The public finding out sooner than expected. Shane changing teams. The wedding. It was a lot. A lifetime's worth of change compressed into only a few years.
Most of it was good, or eventually led to something even better. And without question, the very best thing to come from it all was their children.
Ilyana, their eldest, was born only a year after Ilya and Shane got married. Neither of them had been expecting it. At least, not at that point.
Even years later, Ilya could still remember Shane's screams that morning and the abrupt way he'd been dragged from sleep the day they found out.
It was a Sunday. He had fully intended to sleep until noon. Instead, he woke to sounds of pure panic. At first, Ilya couldn't even tell where the shouting was coming from. Then the bedroom door flew open. Shane stood there, crying. Absolutely terrified.
"Shane? Jesus..." Ilya pushed himself upright in bed, still half asleep. "What- what happened? What's going on?"
Shane couldn't answer. He could barely breathe between sobs. Without saying a word, he simply extended a trembling hand and offered him a white envelope stamped with the hospital's logo.
Ilya's heart stopped.
Shane had experienced a few episodes of low blood pressure the previous week and had undergone several tests to investigate the cause. For a few awful seconds, Ilya imagined the worst. A serious illness. A diagnosis. Something that could even threaten his hockey career. Only something devastating could explain a reaction like this.
But when he opened the envelope and read the results inside, Ilya forgot how to breathe. A rush of adrenaline surged through his body. He blinked several times, rereading the page again and again until there was absolutely no room for doubt.
"Давай заведём малыша? (Are we having a baby?)” Ilya asked the question with tears already forming in his eyes.
Shane nodded. And this time, it was Ilya who cried. There were no screams. No panic. Just an emotion too powerful to contain. His cheeks actually hurt from smiling. The moment the reality settled in, all he could do was pull Shane into a crushing embrace and cover his face with kisses.
Shane was happy. So incredibly happy. Just that morning, before opening the envelope, he hadn't realized how much he wanted to become a father. Now it felt like the only thing he wanted in the world. Even so, the fear remained. The news had caught him completely off guard. But luckily, Ilya was there. Holding him tightly. Grounding him. Whispering over and over how happy he was. How everything was going to be okay.
Ilya gathered everyone together to share the news. Shane's parents. Hayden and his family. Rose, Svetlana. The entire Centaurs team. Finding a date when everyone was available proved nearly impossible. It took a month before they were finally able to share the secret they were both desperate to tell. And when they finally spoke the words aloud, the reactions were everything they could have hoped for.
Rose and Yuna burst into tears almost immediately. David spent his time alternating between crying himself and trying to comfort his wife. Svetlana and the Centaurs celebrated like fans whose team had just won a championship.
"I KNEW IT! JACKIE, I TOLD YOU! I KNEW IT!" Hayden practically shouted as he threw his arms around the couple.
"What do you mean, you knew?" Shane asked, handing his mother a glass of water.
"Come on. A while back, I noticed Ilya had this stupid look on his face. He looked even stupider than usual." The room erupted into louder laughter. "It's the face people make when they find out they're going to be a dad." That only made everyone laugh harder.
Shane wasn't usually the type to cry in front of a crowd. But after so many hugs, congratulations, and happy tears, he finally let himself. For the first time since learning the news, he allowed all of his happiness to show. He felt loved. So loved. And the thought that their baby would be loved even more nearly brought him to tears all over again.
They spent days debating how to tell the public they were expecting a baby. Should they announce it once Shane's pregnancy started to show? Should they wait until after the birth, keeping that precious moment to themselves for a little longer? No option felt entirely safe.
As public figures, both Hollander and Rozanov had spent years living under scrutiny, yet exposing their personal lives still unsettled them in situations like this. Especially now, when it wasn't just about the two of them anymore. This was something far more precious.
They worried about the comments they would receive. The sensationalist headlines. The endless speculation. But in the end, none of that truly mattered. They were married. Surrounded by family and friends who loved them. Secure in the knowledge that no comment, no article, and no stranger's opinion could take away the beauty of this moment.
Eventually, they decided it would be best to announce the pregnancy alongside the statement regarding Shane's leave from the league. The news dominated trending topics for nearly three weeks. Just as they had expected, there were cruel comments. Homophobic comments. People calling their child an abomination. Claiming it was harmful for a child to grow up in a family like theirs. There were posts from Russians saying that Ilya should never be allowed to set foot in Russia again. Those comments hurt him more than he wanted to admit. But he chose silence. Chose to ignore the wound rather than acknowledge it.
Instead, Ilya focused on the overwhelming support from the community, people who went out of their way to defend them and celebrate their happiness.
Shane, who had already become increasingly absent from social media, practically abandoned his phone altogether. He didn't want distractions. Nothing deserved more of his attention than his family.
The Hollanders had always been planners. It was practically a family trait. Yuna immediately took charge of all the tedious details: scheduling doctor's appointments, handling the contractual arrangements surrounding Shane's leave, organizing the purchase of clothes, diapers, and every other necessity that came with preparing for a baby. Even the media announcement became her responsibility. She and David wanted to protect that time. They wanted Shane and Ilya to focus on only two things: Each other. And the pregnancy. They had always been exceptional when it came to taking care of Shane's career. And this was one of the moments in his life when he needed that care most.
Shane was happy about the pregnancy. He truly was. For years, the idea of building a family with Ilya had filled him with a quiet warmth that settled deep in his chest. But alongside that happiness lurked fear. The fear that he wouldn't be a good father. The fear that he might not be capable of loving his own child.
The truth was, Shane had never found it easy to connect with children. His experience was limited almost entirely to Hayden's kids. His relationship with them was good. Of course it was. He was responsible, patient. Always willing to join whatever game they invented if it helped distract or entertain them. He cared about them, genuinely. But that was where it stopped. He didn't love them. At least, not with the overwhelming, life-altering force he imagined parents were supposed to feel for their children. And the fear of being incapable of that kind of love wasn't his only concern.
As the pregnancy progressed, Shane found himself slipping into a spiral of anxiety and paranoia about his health and the baby's.
From the day he found out he was pregnant, Shane sought out at least three different medical opinions for every appointment, just to reassure himself that everything was progressing normally. He maintained his exercise routine, his training schedule, and his yoga practice to preserve his mobility and help keep the baby in the ideal position. He bought dozens of books about newborn care. First-time parent guides. Detailed manuals. Anything that might help prepare him. During one particularly anxious episode, he even bought a weighted baby doll designed to mimic the size and weight of a real infant, simply so he could practice holding a baby correctly. Shane would spend minutes adjusting his arms, testing different positions, as though he could somehow rehearse the future. It was the only way he knew to feel even remotely prepared.
But the thing that changed most dramatically was his diet. Shane created an incredibly strict nutrition schedule and followed it with military precision. Alcohol was out of the question. So was soda. The Japanese food he loved so much was practically forbidden. Juice? Only if it was freshly made. Medication? Only what his doctors prescribed, and only when absolutely necessary. He knew the baby's development didn't depend solely on him.
Still, the thought of somehow being responsible for a complication… of being the reason something went wrong, was simply unacceptable to him.
Shane was a bundle of nerves. A constant roller coaster of emotions that shifted without warning.
"Hey, Shane, mayá lyubóv... what's wrong?" Ilya asked as he emerged from the kitchen and found Shane curled up on the living room couch. They had been planning to binge-watch The Walking Dead that night. Just a few minutes earlier, Shane had seemed perfectly fine.
Ilya walked over and sat beside him. Shane was crying hard. But it wasn't pain, or fear, or anxiety.
By now, Ilya could distinguish Shane's different kinds of tears just by the expressions he made or didn't make. And this particular expression told him exactly what was happening.
Shane wanted something.
"I..." Shane sniffled. "I really want bananas and chocolate..." His voice was small and shaky.
As expected. Another pregnancy craving.
"Then let's have banana and chocolate." Ilya replied. "Just tell me how you want me to make it."
"No, Ilya!" Shane immediately sat up, eyes widening in horror. "I can't eat chocolate, remember? It'll be bad for the baby." The way he said it made chocolate sound like a highly dangerous controlled substance.
Ilya couldn't help smiling. He cupped Shane's face gently, thumbs brushing away the tears still clinging to his cheeks.
"It won't hurt the baby, sweetheart." His voice was soft and patient. "You don't have gestational diabetes. Both you and the baby are perfectly healthy. You can have chocolate. You just can't eat twenty bars of it."
Shane considered this seriously. "Hm… I still don't think I should risk it."
"Chocolate improves your mood. And bananas will give you extra energy and might even help with muscle cramps."
"Who told you that?"
"Our nutritionist." Ilya said. "You can Google it if you want."
Shane stared at him for a few seconds. Because despite everything, he knew one thing for certain. Ilya would never lie to him. Never knowingly put him, or their baby, at risk.
"I trust you." Shane finally said.
A small smile appeared on his face despite his puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Ilya smiled back, relieved and more than a little proud of himself for winning the argument.
And thanks to him, Shane finally allowed himself to eat banana and chocolate while watching zombie gore from the safety of Ilya's arms.
-
With their fingers intertwined and smiles shining through tears, Shane and Ilya listened as the doctor explained that the pregnancy was progressing perfectly and that the baby was developing exactly as expected. Ilya fainted the moment he heard they were having a girl. He simply couldn't believe it. Happiness swelled inside his chest with such force that it seemed to consume every inch of him, leaving no room to breathe.
"Next time, I'll be the one standing while you lie down on the examination table. It'll be safer." Shane was already home, gently pressing an ice pack against Ilya's forehead, which was still slightly swollen from hitting the clinic floor.
Despite the fall and the lingering headache, Ilya looked radiant. He didn't want to be more than a few inches away from Shane. Not even for a second.
"Have you thought of any names for her yet?" Ilya asked. One arm wrapped around Shane's waist while his free hand carefully stroked the curve of his already visible belly.
"I have one in mind, but..." Shane hesitated, shrinking slightly into the embrace. "I don't know if you'll like it."
"Tell me." Ilya's voice turned soft and pleading as he pressed a quick kiss to Shane's chin.
Shane smiled. Then fell silent. For several seconds, he simply studied Ilya's face as though gathering courage.
"Ilyana." he finally whispered..His eyes immediately filled with tears. "I thought you might not like it because it's similar to your name, but..." He laughed softly, embarrassed. "That's actually why I love it so much." The smile faded from Ilya's face, replaced by something quieter. Something more attentive. Shane lowered his gaze to his stomach, gently rubbing his hand over it. "I think my daughter's name could remind me of the person I love most in the world, right?”. His smile softened. Then, almost absentmindedly, he repeated it. "Ilyana, Ilyana, Ilyana." As if he were getting used to the sound. As if he were testing the shape of a dream.
Ilya felt something tighten painfully inside his chest. Shane looked so peaceful. So completely lost in the thought of the daughter who wasn't even here yet.
For a fleeting moment, Ilya wondered whether he deserved something like this. Whether he deserved to have his name transformed into something so pure. But as he watched Shane sit there, overflowing with love, he found himself thinking that perhaps this was the most right thing he had ever done. Ilyana. She would be the first truly good thing he felt he had ever helped create. Shane blinked, as though waking from a trance, and looked back at him.
"But if you don't like it, that's okay." Concern immediately crept into his voice. "We can keep looking. It could be an English name instead. Maybe Ember, since we met in December." He started counting possibilities on his fingers. "Or a Russian name if you'd rather. Anastasia is nice. Anika. Or maybe Karina-"
He was cut off by a gentle kiss. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads remained pressed together. Their eyes stayed locked. Both smiling for no obvious reason. Or perhaps for every possible reason at once.
"Ilyana… it's perfect.” Ilya murmured.
"Really?" Shane's eyes widened. "You think so?"
The hopeful smile spreading across his face was almost unbearably sweet.
"Yes, mayá lyubóv." Ilya kissed his forehead before pulling him into a slow embrace, with no intention of letting go anytime soon. "Thank you."
The words were simple. Far too small for everything he truly wanted to say. There was so much gratitude inside him that language couldn't possibly contain it all.
But Shane could feel it anyway. In the way Ilya held him. In the rapid heartbeat hammering against his chest. In the quiet reverence of the moment.
"I think she's going to be a lot like you." Shane spoke against his husband's neck, closing his eyes as he tried to contain the overwhelming amount of love filling him. "Maybe I'm wrong, but that's what I feel in my heart.”
-
At no point during the pregnancy did Ilya feel even slightly sexually frustrated. Their sex life remained active, as always, until the seventh month.
The changes in Shane's body excited Ilya immensely. Shane had always had stretch marks due to his training routine and the physical development that hockey demanded. But now, with the pregnancy, more had appeared, and Ilya lost his mind just looking at them. His body gained more curves, his legs and buttocks got fuller, and Ilya loved to squeeze them, massage them, bite them.
Ilya would never forget the first time he tasted Shane's milk.
They were having morning sex. Shane was lying down, sleepy and lazy as usual, enjoying the sensation of Ilya penetrating him while sucking on his breast. His breasts were larger and more sensitive, but Ilya knew how to treat them with the right care and attention, making Shane feel safe. Shane opened his eyes as he felt Ilya's thrusts intensify and the sound of his moans grow louder, even muffled by Shane's chest. It was then that Shane saw a white liquid trickle from the corners of Ilya's mouth, who seemed desperate to taste it all, not to waste a single drop. Ilya rolled his eyes as if his life depended on that liquid.
They had both probably experienced the most intense orgasm of their lives there, and drinking Shane's milk had become one of Ilya's favorite fetishes. Shane had never felt so desired and loved in his entire life. He realized that there would always be things to explore with Ilya, that the passion they both felt for each other would never stagnate.
2022
Ilyana was born in April, bringing warmth and color to the beginning of a still-chilly spring.
During the first few minutes Shane spent alone with her, he didn't say a word. He simply sat there, staring at the sleeping baby in his arms. He studied every detail of her face, her skin, the tiny expressions and sounds she made in her sleep. Shane was trying to understand the feeling he was experiencing for the very first time.
It was love. But a different kind of love. Different from what he felt for his parents. For his friends. For Ilya. This was something purer. Something impossible to explain. In the end, all he could do was let himself feel it.
Ilya was already crying before he even entered the room. He tried to stay quiet, but it was hopeless. The moment he saw Shane smiling down at their daughter, he felt like the happiest person alive. In fact, for a few seconds, he completely forgot there was a world beyond the three of them. That was when little Ilyana woke up for the first time. Almost as if she could sense she was surrounded by both her fathers.
Her eyes barely opened all the way. They were narrow like Shane's, but the color seemed like the perfect blend of both her parents. A warm golden shade. Honey-colored. Like looking at two sunflowers.
For long minutes, perhaps even hours, the three of them remained there together, stretching out that first meeting for as long as possible.
-
"Where is she?" Jackie demanded the moment Shane opened the door. "Please, I can't wait anymore." Without wasting any time, she marched straight into the house, searching every room for Ilyana.
Hayden looked equally excited to meet his best friend's daughter, though he at least paused long enough to pull Shane into a warm hug.
"Hello to you too, Jackie." Shane said dryly. "I'm doing great, thanks for asking."
"I'm still mad at you, Shane Hollander." Jackie pouted dramatically, though the expression disappeared the instant she saw Ilya walking into the living room with the baby in his arms.
Ilya looked radiant. Like a man proudly displaying the greatest trophy he'd ever won.
"Oh my God..." Jackie's voice softened immediately. "I can't believe I'm finally seeing this little angel with my own eyes."
"Apparently she can't believe it either." Ilya said, noticing how wide-eyed Ilyana was as she stared at the unfamiliar face. He carefully transferred her into Jackie's arms, handling her as though she might shatter. "You're the first people to meet her besides us and Shane's parents."
"That's insane. Keeping this princess locked away like this." Jackie gently stroked the top of Ilyana's head. "Isn't it, sweetheart?" She lowered her voice into a playful whisper. "I feel so sorry for you. Your parents are completely paranoid."
"It's not paranoia." Shane immediately argued, crossing his arms. "Everyone knows babies need time to build immunity and get their vaccinations before meeting lots of people. You know that." Shane had taken Ilyana's post-birth care extremely seriously. Every vaccine, every checkup, every recommendation. And he had waited exactly two months before allowing anyone outside the family to meet her.
"I get it, Shane, I really do. But come on..." Jackie laughed as Ilyana reached toward her face with curious little hands. "Two months? That's an exaggeration."
"With all due respect, Jackie." Ilya said, wrapping his arms around Shane from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder. "Your children are perpetually covered in snot. I adore them, but it's true."
The comment made Jackie burst out laughing. To everyone's surprise, Ilyana laughed too. A high-pitched baby giggle escaped her as though she somehow understood the joke.
"Oh my God!" Jackie gasped dramatically. "So you're a giggler, huh? Hayden, look at her smile! It's so huge!"
"Careful, Hayden." Ilya pointed a warning finger at him. "If you drop my daughter, I swear to God I'll kill you." His tone was teasing more than serious. He knew perfectly well that Hayden had plenty of experience with children. He just enjoyed giving him a hard time.
Ignoring the threat, Hayden stepped forward to take his turn holding the baby. He scooped her up with the effortless confidence of someone who had done it countless times before. Ilyana studied him for several seconds. Then she smiled again.
"Oh, you think I'm funny?" Hayden made an exaggerated face. "You laugh way too much for someone who doesn't even have teeth yet." The expression only made her giggle harder. Ilyana was enchanting. A perfect mixture of Shane and Ilya, while somehow still looking entirely like herself. Hayden examined her face closely, trying to understand how that was even possible. "My God, she's your clone, Ilya." He looked back and forth between father and daughter. "Damn it. I was really hoping the baby wouldn't be yours."
"Fuck you, Hayden." Shane replied, stubbornly refusing to laugh along with everyone else.
"Don't listen to him, Shane." Ilya kissed his husband's neck. "He's still upset he'll never get to fulfill his lifelong dream of getting you pregnant." That was enough to start another round of insults and mock outrage between Hayden and Ilya.
Jackie and Shane exchanged matching looks of amusement. After all these years, they were more than accustomed to their husbands' ridiculous dynamic. Some things never changed.
Eventually, Ilya and Hayden disappeared into the kitchen to prepare dinner. And for the first time that afternoon, Jackie got to enjoy some uninterrupted time with Shane and little Ilyana.
"So, Shane," Jackie asked as she carefully settled Ilyana onto the couch so she could be more comfortable. "How's the new dad's life treating you?"
"Good. Much better than I expected, actually." Shane sat down beside her and glanced at his daughter. "I thought we'd be completely lost. You know, not knowing what to do half the time. But once we brought her home from the hospital, our routine just... sort of fell into place naturally." A small smile appeared on his face. "My parents call constantly, and they're always stopping by to help whenever they can. But..." He paused. "I think what really makes everything easier is Ilya."
"I can imagine." Jackie said warmly. "He always seemed good with kids."
"He is." Shane's smile softened. "And now, with Ilyana... it's like he's ready to take on anything." He looked toward the kitchen. "He never panics when she has a crying fit. He just stays calm and patient until he figures out what she needs. Doesn't matter what time it is, even in the middle of the night, he's always the first one to go to her when she starts crying." There was unmistakable affection in his voice now. "He'll spend hours singing to her or talking softly until she falls asleep again, even when he knows he has work early the next morning. And when he comes home… he doesn't even think about resting. He goes straight to her, like being with her is his rest." From across the room, he could see Ilya laughing with Hayden in the kitchen. The smile on his face was bright enough to light the entire house. "I don't think I've ever seen him this happy… Oh, and he quit smoking completely."
Jackie's eyebrows shot up.
"Seriously? That's amazing."
"Right?! He'd already been cutting back since we got married, but he'd slip up occasionally. Then, the moment we found out we were having a baby, he stopped." His expression softened even further. "I think the idea of cigarette smoke getting anywhere near Ilyana terrifies him."
Shane's attention drifted back to his daughter. Ilyana was currently focused on trying to remove one of Jackie's rings. Her tiny fingers were still too clumsy to manage it, and frustration quickly began to build. A second later, she started crying. Ilyana's cries could be impressively loud for someone so small. Yet Shane didn't seem bothered in the slightest.
He immediately gathered her into his arms and rested her against his chest, instinctively giving her the comfort she needed to settle herself again.
Jackie watched with quiet admiration. The tenderness with which Shane held his daughter was impossible to miss. After a moment, she smiled.
"You know, Shane..." Her voice grew softer. "I'm really happy you have someone like Ilya beside you for a time like this." She glanced at Ilyana before looking back at him. "But I also wanted to tell you something."
Shane looked up.
"I always knew you'd be a wonderful father." The words caught him completely off guard. Jackie could see his eyes immediately beginning to shine with emotion. "You were always there for my kids. Whenever Hayden and I needed help, you took care of them without hesitation." She laughed softly. "You're kind. You're funny. They adore you. Maybe you never realized it, but I've known for years that you'd be an incredible dad for your daughter… or future children. You never know."
Both of them laughed. Shane sniffled once and quickly wiped away a tear that had escaped. Then he reached for Jackie's hand.
"Thank you." The gratitude in his voice was genuine. As if she had just given him words he hadn't realized he needed to hear.
"I heard my daughter crying." Ilya's voice arrived before he did. He emerged from the kitchen and immediately noticed that Ilyana was still a little unsettled in Shane's arms.
Shane's face was only slightly flushed and puffy from emotion. Nobody else would have noticed. Ilya did. He always did. "Mayá lyubóv, are you okay?"
His hand rose instinctively to Shane's cheek. Shane smiled and handed Ilyana over so it could be Ilya's turn to hold her.
"Yeah. Everything's fine." He stood and kissed Ilya the same way he always did whenever he wanted to reassure him. Moments like these weren't unusual. The two of them had a habit of unexpectedly bursting into tears over completely ordinary things. Parenthood seemed to make it happen even more often. "I'm going to show Jackie Ilyana’s room."
"Okay." Ilya adjusted Ilyana against his shoulder. "I'll deal with this little crybaby." As Shane started to walk away, Ilya swatted him lightly on his butt earning himself an exasperated look. Then he turned his attention to his daughter, whose tiny face was still scrunched up in a pout.
His expression immediately softened. "Hey, sweetheart." He bounced her gently. "Where's Hayden?" Ilya raised his voice toward the kitchen. "I need his ugly face to entertain my daughter.”
Six Months Later
Shane returned to the ice when Ilyana turned six months old. His recovery had been faster than expected, and he could have returned much sooner if he had wanted to.
The fans in Ottawa hadn't been thrilled about his leave of absence. Even though most had shown overwhelming support for the couple and the new chapter in their lives, being a sports fan had a way of making people impatient. They wanted Hollander back on the ice.
Deep down, Shane missed it too. He had never spent so much time away from hockey. The sport had always been an essential part of who he was. Even so, no matter how much he missed it, he chose to stay home until the very last day. He chose every possible second with his daughter. But now there was no delaying it any longer.
With both him and Rozanov playing for the same team, it meant they would spend long stretches away from Ilyana. And that terrified them. The thought of traveling for weeks at a time. Of missing small changes, a new sound, a new gesture, a different look in her eyes. Not being able to see her. Not being able to hold her. It was unbearable.
They knew she would be safe. They knew Shane's parents would take excellent care of her. Rationally, they understood that. But nothing made leaving her behind any easier.
The beginning of the season wasn't too bad. There were longer breaks between games, which meant more time with Ilyana. Sometimes they even brought her along when they played in nearby cities. On those trips, Ilyana often became a spectacle of her own whenever the arena cameras found her sitting in the stands with the Hollanders. Fans melted instantly. Commentators couldn't help mentioning her. Journalists seemed less interested in discussing the game itself and more interested in what they had begun calling her: The Hockey Kings' Daughter. But that phase didn't last long.
As everyone had expected, the Ottawa Centaurs advanced to the playoffs. And every victory meant more games, more pressure. More time away from home.
-
Shane let out a long breath as he finished shaking hands with the final player in the post-game line. They were playing in the United States and had just eliminated the Brooklyn Scouts with a decisive 5–2 victory. Three of those goals had been scored by Ilya. That night, he had seemed untouchable. Too fast, too focused. As if he were carrying some desperate need to finish the series as quickly as possible. As team captain, Rozanov was usually the last player to leave the ice. That night, however, he had been the first. Shane noticed immediately. He frowned but didn't think much of it. Maybe it was nothing.
The Centaurs' locker room was alive with celebration after another playoff win. Players shouted, laughed, sang victory chants. Wrapped each other in sweaty embraces.
Shane smiled at the scene. Then his smile disappeared. Ilya wasn't there.
"Hey, Troy." Shane approached Troy Barrett, one of the few players sitting quietly while drying his hair. "Have you seen Rozanov?" Troy's expression immediately softened with sympathy.
Without saying much, he shook his head and pointed toward the quieter area of the locker room where the dry benches and personal lockers were located.Shane thanked him with a quick pat on the shoulder and headed that way.
He found Ilya sitting alone. Still wearing his uniform. Still wearing his skates. Bent forward with his head resting in his hands.
"Ilya?"
Hearing Shane's voice was enough to make the mask crack. His body seemed to recognize safety instantly. The tears he'd been holding back finally escaped.
Shane immediately sat beside him. His hands gently cupped Ilya's face, searching for answers. Or at least for some way to help carry the pain.
"Ilya." His heart was already racing. His mind inventing terrible possibilities. "What happened?"
Ilya took a shaky breath, closed his eyes. Gathered enough strength to speak.
"Я так сильно скучаю по ней. (I miss her so much.)”
Shane didn't need a translation. He understood. Ilya always slipped into Russian when his emotions became too overwhelming to organize in English. Shane had been studying Russian for years. He wasn't fluent yet, but he understood enough. Enough to know exactly what those words meant. And hearing them shattered his heart.
Without saying anything, Shane guided Ilya's head against his chest. The position also allowed Shane to cry without Ilya seeing. Because winning another game meant advancing another round. Advancing another round meant staying away longer. And staying away longer meant more time without Ilyana.
Ilya missed everything about her. Her unique baby smell. The feeling of holding her. Running his fingers through the soft blond hair that had turned out to be almost exactly the same shade as his own. At that moment, Shane was the closest thing he had to her. So Ilya held him tightly.
"You want to go home?" Shane's voice was barely above a whisper.
The question pulled Ilya back to reality. Because he knew he couldn't. He couldn't simply walk away. Not without consequences for himself. For the team. For everyone depending on him. He knew Shane would support whatever choice he made. But he was still the captain.
"No." Ilya pulled back just enough to look at him.
His eyes were red. His voice rough. "No. As much as I want to… We still have a championship to win together." He reached up and gently brushed a tear from Shane's flushed cheek. Shane smiled. Still hurting, still missing her. But smiling anyway.
"Then let's go win it." He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "So we can get back to her as soon as possible.”
The Centaurs won the Stanley Cup that year.
Ilya and Shane only managed to see Ilyana twice before the Finals. It was painful. Seeing how much she had changed while they were away. How it took her a few moments to remember who they were. And most of all, the way she cried whenever they had to leave again.
They were exhausted. But somehow, that exhaustion, and that longing, made them step onto the ice for the Finals more determined than ever.
The Colorado Thunder players were aggressive. They muttered insults and taunts constantly. They slammed the Centaurs into the boards every chance they got. The game was interrupted several times by fights. One of them involved Rozanov.
One of Colorado's players, a man whose name Ilya couldn't even remember, tried to get under his skin by suggesting that winning the Cup mattered more to him than his own daughter. Ilya grabbed him by the jersey immediately. The player barely had time to react before he was thrown to the ice with alarming force. The fight only ended when Rozanov managed to rip off his opponent's helmet and land a clean punch squarely across his face.
It was exactly the kind of chaos fans loved to see in a championship series. Rozanov spent a few minutes in the penalty box, but he was soon allowed back onto the ice.
"No more fights, Rozanov." Shane skated beside him before the next period began. "We're still down by one."
"I thought you got horny when I fight during games." Ilya smirked as he pushed off toward his position.
"I do." Shane tried to hide the blush creeping into his cheeks. "But I got even more excited when we won."
A grin spread across Ilya's face. "Oh, then I'm going to have a great night." Shane raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm scoring the game-winner, and my reward is getting to spend the entire night fucking you. I don't even care about the cup."
The puck dropped before Shane could answer. Both of them returned their attention to the game with matching smiles. Hollander scored the equalizer. The game remained tied until the very end of regulation. Then overtime began. Twenty long minutes. No goals. The arena felt like it was vibrating with tension. Thousands of people held their breath, waiting to find out who would become champions.
Then it happened. A pass so precise it looked rehearsed. Lucas sent the puck directly to Rozanov. Three strides. One shot.
Goal.
The tie was broken. And the Ottawa Centaurs became the 2022 Stanley Cup Champions. For a moment, Ilya couldn't even process what had happened. His teammates launched themselves at him. Then lifted him into the air like he was the trophy itself.
Everything happened too quickly after that. Handshakes with the opposing team. The roar of the crowd. The confetti. Families stepping onto the ice. And finally, the Stanley Cup being placed into Rozanov's hands. The trophy gleamed beneath the arena lights. Somehow, Ilya looked just as bright.
"Ilya, look!" Shane skated toward him with tears already shining in his eyes. He pointed toward the entrance leading onto the ice. Ilya turned. Shane's parents were skating toward them, bringing Ilyana with them.
Without a second thought, Rozanov handed the Cup to Troy. Yuna and David hadn't told them they were coming. Their flight had been uncertain, and they hadn't wanted to make the boys anxious if they couldn't make it in time. Shane skated toward his parents and hugged them like a little boy again. Ilya did the same. Then he saw Ilyana. From Yuna's arms, she leaned toward him immediately. As though she had recognized him before he was even close enough to touch her. And at last, after what felt like forever, he held his daughter again.
The arena was in absolute chaos. Fans screamed, celebrated, cried. Ottawa was winning its first championship in years. Everyone credited the captain. The fans, the commentators, even his teammates. But in truth, the victory belonged to all of them. And as the giant screens focused entirely on him, Rozanov made his choice.
Instead of raising the Stanley Cup above his head, he lifted his daughter into the air. Holding up what he considered his real prize.
Now, 2039
Ilyana spent the entire afternoon locked in her room. Her plan was to stay there forever. Avoiding every conversation she didn't want to have. But eventually, she couldn't ignore the smell of dinner drifting through the house. Nor could she ignore the gentle way Shane invited her to join him and Stepan at the table.
By the time she came downstairs, dinner was already set out. The table was full. Colorful. Everything looked delicious. There was roasted meat with vegetables, mashed potatoes, grilled fish, Japanese rice, quinoa salad, and three different kinds of fresh juice. To most families, it might have seemed excessive. To a family of athletes, it looked perfectly normal. Shane always went out of his way when his children were staying with him. And somehow, that made Ilyana's chest ache.
"I made the rice you two like." Shane said with a smile as he watched Stepan immediately start piling food onto his plate. A little of everything as usual.
"Oh my God, thank you for this, Dad." Stepan looked genuinely emotional. "It's been forever since I've had this. Papa Ilya never manages to get it quite right."
"Okay, but slow down." Shane's voice remained gentle despite the warning. "Leave some for your sister."
"I don't want any." Both Shane and Stepan looked at her suspiciously. Ilyana shifted in her seat. "Uh... I'm just going to have fish and salad tonight." The words came out awkwardly. Almost apologetically as though she were worried about sounding rude.
"Are you sure?" Stepan asked. "Because I don't want to hear any complaints after I eat everything."
"I already said I don't want it, you ogre." She rolled her eyes. "Eat all of it if you want." Stepan shrugged. A perfectly reasonable answer in his opinion.
Shane couldn't help noticing the amount of food on her plate. It was far less than what he knew she normally ate. He watched carefully as she took her first bite. The moment the food touched her tongue, her eyes closed. "Jesus, Dad..." A small smile appeared on her face. "This is amazing. Thank you." Shane smiled too. His shoulders relaxed. Maybe she just wasn't very hungry tonight.
Shane had never been the type to interrogate his children. Not because he didn't care. Quite the opposite. He cared deeply. But he preferred to let them come to him when they were ready. Ilyana appreciated that about him. The way he seemed almost terrified of pressuring them. Still, there were moments like this when she wished he would notice the signs. Push a little. Help her say the things she couldn't bring herself to say out loud.
The rest of dinner passed quietly. At least for her. Shane and Stepan carried most of the conversation, discussing the lineup of Stepan's team for the upcoming season. Normally, Ilyana would have joined in immediately. It was exactly the kind of topic she enjoyed. Tonight, however, she let the conversation flow around her. Her presence at the table felt temporary. What she ate gave her enough energy for what came next. Training. At least that was her excuse. She was relieved when Shane didn't question why she wanted to work out so late. After all, he did the same thing sometimes.
The gym became the perfect reason to be alone. Ilyana liked training at Shane's house because his gym had the best equipment. Everything she needed for intense workouts. Ilya had a gym at his house too. The problem was Ilya. Whenever she trained there, her father inevitably found a way to distract her. Sooner or later, he would appear and decide they should be doing something more interesting. Going to the mall, or cinema. Playing tennis. Roller skating through the park.
Her chest tightened at the thought. Tears immediately welled in her eyes, but before she could cry, she shoved her earbuds in and pressed play on a video, as if the sound alone might be enough to drown out her feelings. She needed a distraction. She needed a distraction from herself.
Ilyana started the video and followed along with the movements demonstrated by a woman on the screen. She understood most of what was being said, though every now and then she had to pay closer attention to catch the instructions. It was a balance-training workout
Ilyana was fast on the ice. She skated with an almost instinctive precision, a gift inherited from Rozanov, who had taught her to command speed as naturally as breathing. Her coordination was exceptional too. Clean lines. Controlled movements. The unmistakable influence of Hollander.
Flexibility had always been her greatest point of pride. Since childhood, she had trained it relentlessly, and it set her apart from other skaters her age. There was a lightness to her movements, an elasticity that always drew attention. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
Balance remained the invisible flaw. The tiny weakness that still betrayed her from time to time. Especially on landings. In those final moments of a sequence. Those crucial seconds when the body has to trust itself completely. And when she failed, everything that came before it seemed to collapse with it. Entire performances, precious points. It consumed her.
That was all Ilyana could think about as she repeated the exercises. Each attempt felt less like practice and more like a challenge. Or a punishment. She needed to get better. The Winter National Championships were approaching. She was getting older every year. She didn't have time to waste.
She began with her usual stretches. The same ones she had done since childhood. Almost automatic by now. A silent ritual before every workout. But this time, she added weight. More than she was used to. At first, she tried to maintain the same control she always had. The same confidence and precision.
Then the mistakes started creeping in. A slight shake. A subtle misalignment. A stumble that shouldn't have happened. She frowned. Maybe it was because she had eaten recently. Maybe she felt heavy. She told herself to eat less next time.
Her heart rate climbed much faster than normal. Still, she kept going. She moved on to repetition drills she knew well. Exercises she had performed countless times before. Just never at this pace. Never with this much weight. Never with the almost merciless intensity demanded by the instructor's voice. At first, everything went smoothly. Then the minutes passed. And she didn't stop. No breaks. No real chance to catch her breath.
Heat began spreading through her body. Not the normal warmth of exertion. Something different. Something wrong. It felt like she was burning from the inside out. Still, she continued. Even as dizziness arrived far sooner than it should have. Ilyana forced herself to focus on technique. On breathing, on discipline. As though discipline alone could erase the body's limits.
Eventually, she switched exercises. To the one she hated most. Balance training. The routine required long spins while holding weights. Ten-kilogram plates. Ilyana had lifted heavier loads before during strength training. But this wasn't the same. Not even close. Despite the exhaustion already settling into her muscles, she stepped onto the spinning board. Adjusted her posture. Squared her shoulders. And began to turn.
The woman's voice filled her ears. No longer sounding like guidance. Sounding like pressure. As though every instruction demanded the same thing: Keep going. Ignore the pain, ignore the limit.
Her body was responding badly now. The muscles in her arms burned beneath the weight. Her shoulders felt ready to collapse. Her back begged for rest. Still, she held herself upright. Forcing a perfection that no longer existed. Just one more minute. That was all she needed. One more minute. But her breathing had stopped cooperating. Each breath came unevenly. Broken. As if the air itself had become insufficient. Her thighs trembled. Her ankles threatened to give out. Sweat ran into her eyes, stinging, blurring her vision. She tried to focus on a fixed point to stop the dizziness from worsening, but she couldn't. Everything was spinning too fast. The room smeared into a haze. The edges of her vision darkened. And little by little, the world began to disappear.
That was the moment Ilyana realized she wouldn't last another three seconds. With a sudden movement, she hurled the weight across the room. The loud metallic crash echoed through the gym. A second later, she collapsed onto the floor. Her body had finally given in to everything she had been ignoring since the workout began. She was exhausted. Ilyana wanted to cry. But she couldn't even do that. She didn't have the energy. So she simply sat there with her eyes closed, focusing on something as basic as breathing. Her entire body trembled. Her head throbbed. And despite all of it, despite the exhaustion and dizziness and pain, she found herself wishing the feeling would pass quickly so she could try again.
"Ilyana?!" Shane's voice rang through the house, desperately. "What was that noise?" A moment later, he burst into the gym, nearly out of breath.
His eyes widened the instant he saw her sitting on the floor. Ilyana took a few seconds to answer. Even speaking required effort.
"The weight fell..." She drew in a careful breath. "I was doing an exercise."
"What exercise?" Shane's voice rose immediately. Not from anger but from concern. "Jesus, Ilyana. You barely ate, you haven't even digested dinner yet, and you came straight down here to work out?" He looked from her to the discarded weight. "You could've hurt yourself. What if that thing had landed on your foot?"
"I'm sorry." She lowered her head. Ilyana knew how anxious her father could become when it came to her or Stepan's safety.
"I'll just train without the weights this time and-"
"This time?" Shane interrupted, staring at her in disbelief. "You are not training anymore tonight. It's late, and you're clearly exhausted."
"But Dad, I need to-"
"Ilyana." The firmness in his voice stopped her immediately. "I said no."
Shane crossed his arms. And Ilyana knew arguing would accomplish absolutely nothing. She wanted to swear. But Shane knew Russian enough to understand. So instead, she pushed herself to her feet. Every muscle protested. Without another word, she walked out of the gym. Then headed straight back to her room. And locked the door once again.
-
Ilyana stopped in front of the mirror and stared at herself with disgust for several long minutes, as though she were searching for something specific to hate.
Her hair was a mess. The waves that everyone always complimented now seemed to do nothing but create more frizz, more disorder, more reasons to be annoyed. She ran her fingers through it repeatedly, trying to smooth it down. Tried styling it differently. Nothing worked. Her gaze drifted downward. Her belly looked... normal. Still, she turned sideways and examined herself more critically, searching for any sign that something was wrong. Anything excessive. Anything out of place. Then her eyes moved lower. To her thighs, to her butt. To the curves she had inherited. They looked larger than they should have. Ilyana let out a frustrated breath. Too many curves. Too much volume. Features inherited from both of her fathers, impossible to hide no matter how hard she tried. She hurriedly pulled on her pajama pants, as though covering herself could erase what she had seen. Almost immediately, she made a mental note to be stricter with her diet.
Then she noticed her chest. Her boobs were too big. Other people called it a blessing. She didn't. Not in the body of a figure skater. A skater needed lightness, precision. Complete control. She grabbed the tightest sports bra she owned and pulled it on, as if she could compress herself into something smaller. Something more acceptable.
Before putting on her shirt, she stretched her arms out to the sides and jumped. Her eyes widened. She jumped again and again. One more time. With every landing, there was the slightest movement beneath the skin of her upper arms. Barely noticeable. To anyone else, invisible. To her, it was obvious. Loose, unacceptable. Her stomach twisted.
Finally, she grabbed a hoodie and pulled it over her head. Almost hiding inside it. As though the fabric could shield her from her own reflection. She needed to stop looking. Needed to get away from herself before the feeling swallowed her whole.She suddenly felt like she had to leave her room or she would lose her mind.
The house was dark and quiet. Stepan was probably already asleep. He insisted on going to bed early and maintaining an annoyingly disciplined routine. As she walked down the hallway, she noticed light still spilling from beneath her father's bedroom door.
She hesitated for a second. Then she knocked three times.
"Come in." The moment she heard Shane's voice, she opened the door.
"Dad?" Her voice came out smaller than intended. "Are you going to bed already?"
"No, sweetheart. Actually, I'm not." Shane set aside the book he had been reading and placed it on the nightstand.
Then he removed his glasses. Only then did he notice her face. Red. Slightly swollen. Like she'd been crying or was about to. His expression softened immediately.
"Hey, Nana." The nickname alone was enough to make her shoulders relax. "Come here."
The moment he opened his arms, she crossed the room and let herself be pulled into the hug. The tears she'd been holding back finally escaped. Shane's bed was familiar territory. She had slept there countless times throughout her life. When she was little and terrified of thunderstorms. When a cartoon villain had scared her. When her little brother had gotten hurt. When her parents were arguing downstairs and she hid beneath Shane's blankets so she wouldn't have to hear it. When she missed Papa Ilya after he moved out. When she thought Ilya hated her. And now. When she hated herself.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Shane gently stroked her hair. "Or why you've been crying?"
"No." The answer came too quickly but she did want to tell him. She wanted to unload the weight crushing her chest. She wanted her father's advice. But she was ashamed. Ashamed of herself. Ashamed of what she was feeling. Ashamed of the way she had treated Ilya. "I can't talk about it right now, but my therapist said I should try distracting myself when I feel like this." She pulled back slightly to look at him. The concern on his face was impossible to miss. "I was wondering if maybe we could watch a movie together."
"Of course we can." The answer came without hesitation.
Shane gently wiped the tears from her cheeks as though she were nine years old again. Then he shifted behind her and began braiding her unruly hair. A habit he had never quite given up.
"Do you already know what you want to watch?" He handed her the TV remote.
"Scream." Ilyana snuggled deeper beneath the blankets.
Shane raised an eyebrow. "Hm… are you sure you're in the mood for a horror movie?"
"Yes. Horror movies are always good."
She fell asleep less than fifteen minutes later. Curled against her father's side. Shane didn't sleep at all that night. Not because of the movie. No horror film could ever be as frightening as the thought of his daughter hurting. His daughter carrying a sadness he couldn't fix. She suffering through something he didn't understand.
That… that was terrifying.
-
“How much longer is she going to sleep?” Stepan asked with a bored sigh as he spread a tablecloth over the lunch table. Shane had just put the meat in the oven and was using the extra time to get a head start on cleaning the kitchen. “At this rate, we’re not going fishing again today.”
“You two can go without me if you want.” Ilyana said as she came downstairs, still in her pajamas, her eyes heavy with sleep.
“I’d be fine with that, but Dad hates leaving one of us home alone.” the boy replied, adding another plate to the table.
“That’s not true...” Shane muttered, even though he knew it was.
“Well, you know I hate fishing. You could pick something else to do if you really wanted me to come.” Ilyana said, leaning against the counter.
Stepan let out a mocking laugh and answered irritably. “But I didn’t want you to come. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be spending your time with Papa Ilya!”
“I already told you I don’t want to stay with him!” she snapped, her voice louder than necessary.
“Hey, hey, both of you!” Shane’s firm voice cut through the argument before either of them could escalate further. “Relax. Before I ship the two of you off somewhere.” He would never actually do that, of course, but both Ilyana and Stepan knew Shane hated seeing them fight in front of him. “Stepan, you still have another month and a half of vacation. I promise we’ll have plenty of time to do whatever you want.” Shane said, prompting his son to drop into one of the chairs with a sulky expression. Spending one-on-one time with his dad meant a lot to Stepan. “And Ilyana... what happened between you and your father that made you this upset?”
“Nothing.” Ilyana answered, looking away.
Shane glanced at Stepan, hoping his son knew something and might offer a clue, but the younger boy shook his head, wearing the unmistakable expression of someone who had been sworn to secrecy.
“Well, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. But then I can’t really help you.” Shane dried his hands on a dish towel. He thought Ilyana was done talking, but after a moment, she spoke again.
“I, um... I said I wanted to do something, and he didn’t agree with it.” Shane frowned, suspicious.
“And what is it that you want to do?” Ilyana scratched the back of her neck, restless and anxious, afraid Shane might be against it too.
“I wanted to... maybe...” she hesitated. “Spend a season training somewhere else.”
“Oh.” Shane leaned against the counter, taking a moment to process what she had just said. His first thought was the distance. How hard it would be to have his daughter so far away. Out of reach. Beyond the comfort of knowing she was safe under his roof. It was the kind of worry every parent carried. But it was also inevitable. Sooner or later, both he and Ilya would have to learn how to let their children go. “Train abroad, huh?”
“Yeah.” She still couldn't quite meet his eyes. “I know I've already worked with some of the best coaches in Canada, but... I feel like I could improve so much more.”
“Ilyana, you've won Nationals three years in a row,” Shane said, trying to ground her in reality. “Like- come on, you finished fourth at the Olympics when you were seventeen. That's insane.”
Ilyana let out a bitter laugh, as if being the best skater in Canada and fourth in the world was somehow an insult. Her cheeks immediately flushed, and Shane scrambled to figure out what he'd said wrong.
“But if this really matters to you...” he said carefully. “Then it's okay.”
“Really?” Her head snapped up.
“Yeah. I don't see why not.” Now it was Shane's turn to avoid eye contact, trying not to show just how much the idea hurt. “What I don't understand is why your father said no.” Something was missing. “He wasn't against Stepan moving to Boston to play for them.”
“Exactly!” Ilyana threw her hands up. “That's exactly what I told him.”
“And what did he say?”
“That it's not the same thing.”
“How is it not the same thing?” Shane glanced toward Stepan and immediately caught the look on his son's face. That look. The one that said I know something you don't. “Your father spent most of his life as a professional athlete,” Shane continued, crossing his arms. “Of all people, he'd never stand in the way of something that could help your career.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless there's something else you're not telling me.”
Ilyana immediately started muttering curses under her breath in Russian, sounding so much like Ilya. “There isn't, Dad. I swear.”
“There is.” Stepan muttered. He didn't even look up. Just tossed the comment into the room like a grenade and waited.
“STEPAN, SHUT THE FUCK UP.”
Shane rubbed a hand over his face. His patience was beginning to fray. “Dad, he wouldn't tell me why.” Ilyana's voice rose again. “I asked him over and over and over. He just kept saying no and refusing to explain himself.”
“Ilyana...” Shane took a slow breath. He genuinely couldn't understand how his daughter and Ilya could turn something so straightforward into a drama. “He's still your father. I can't just ignore a decision he's made. Just like I wouldn't want him ignoring mine.” Talking about Ilya this much was already giving him a headache. “You're going to have to work this out with him yourself. I'm sorry, but there's really nothing I can do and-”
“Yes, there is!” she interrupted. “You could talk to him and convince him to change his mind.”
Stepan immediately doubled over laughing. Actual, helpless laughter. Meanwhile Shane just stared at his daughter, trying to determine whether she was serious.
The laughter only made Ilyana angrier. Though, honestly, she understood it. The idea was ridiculous. Her parents hadn't had an actual face-to-face conversation in years.
Shane didn't even dignify the suggestion with a response. He simply turned back toward the kitchen and resumed cleaning, hoping she'd eventually run out of arguments. Unfortunately, Ilyana had saved her strongest one for last.
“If you won't talk to him… then I guess I'll have to talk to grandma.”
Silence. Complete silence. Shane stopped moving, Stepan stopped laughing. Because everyone knew what that meant.
Whenever Yuna found out about some family dispute or discovered that Shane and Ilya were refusing to communicate about something involving their children, she gave them both lectures that lasted for hours. As if they were teenagers.
“Ilyana Rozanova.” Shane's voice was dangerously calm. “You are absolutely not dragging your grandmother into this. Do you understand me?” Ilyana shrank a little under the flat look he gave her. But she wasn't backing down. Not this time.
“I'm not dragging her into anything.” The sudden sweetness in her voice made Shane instantly suspicious. “But grandpa's birthday is this weekend, and if Grandma happens to notice I'm upset with Papa… I don't know if I'll be able to lie about it.”
Then she smiled. A tiny, victorious smile. She grabbed an apple from the counter and headed back upstairs.
Shane stood there staring after her. It took several seconds for the reality of the situation to settle in. Sooner or later, he was going to have to deal with this. One way or another.
“Dad.” Stepan pointed toward the oven. Shane blinked. Only then did he notice the smell. And the heat, and the smoke.
“Shit!” He lunged for the oven door. A cloud of smoke billowed out immediately, along with the unmistakable sight of what had once been a perfectly good pork roast.
From across the kitchen, Stepan watched his father quietly. The way Shane stared at the ruined meal he'd spent all morning making. The defeated slump of his shoulders. The exhausted look in his eyes. It wasn't really about the roast. Stepan knew that. It was about the reason the roast had burned in the first place. That same expression always appeared whenever Ilya was involved. And if Shane looked like this… then Papa Ilya was probably sitting alone in his own house wearing the exact same expression.
“I'll order takeout,” Stepan offered softly. “Sounds good?”
Shane forced a smile and nodded. A second later, Stepan crossed the kitchen and wrapped his arms around him. Hoping that hug could help him anyway.
-
Stepan decided it would be better to cancel their fishing trip after seeing how shaken his father had been following the argument at lunch. Shane insisted he was fine to go out, but there was something about him that gave him away. The distant look in his eyes. The way his mind seemed somewhere else entirely. His inability to focus on even the simplest task. He was clearly worried about something he didn't want to deal with. Deep down, Stepan knew his father needed to be alone. Ilyana stayed locked in her room all afternoon, exactly as expected, while Stepan went out for a bike ride with Monika, his best friend and Luca Haas's daughter.
Shane picked up his phone but didn't dare unlock it until he found somewhere in the house that felt safe enough. The living room was too big. The kitchen felt cold and uncomfortable. The garden was too windy. His bedroom was out of the question. He hated thinking about Ilya in that room, lying alone in the bed that used to belong to both of them. That left only one place. His office. A space reserved for work, paperwork, and casual conversations. Nothing personal. Nothing dangerous.
He sat down in his chair and stared at the floor for several long seconds, gathering the courage to unlock his phone. Shane had to scroll through his contacts several times before he found the name he was looking for.
Rozanov
It hadn't always been that. For years, it had been Ilyusha. Then it became Blocked Number. Honestly, Shane would have preferred if it had stayed that way. But eventually he'd had to unblock him. Shared custody schedules made that unavoidable. And Yuna had ordered it.
When Shane opened the conversation, his stomach twisted. His eyes immediately landed on the last message. A message he had never answered. A message he had spent over a year pretending didn't exist.
Rozanov
It's been about two years since the last time I touched you.
I miss you so much. Sometimes I feel like I'm going to die if I can't have you again.
The message was over a year old now. And Shane remembered that night with uncomfortable clarity. He had been lying in bed, waiting for Andrew to get out of the shower, when his phone buzzed. At first, he'd simply stared at the screen. Then he'd read the message again. And again, and again. Trying to decide whether to reply, whether to ignore it, whether to tell Ilya to go fuck himself and block him all over again.
In the end, he'd chosen silence. He turned off his phone and shoved it into the back of a drawer. Thankfully, Andrew had done an excellent job keeping him distracted that night. Distracted enough to stop him from doing something impulsive. Something that would've made everything worse.
Now, staring at the conversation again, Shane found himself wondering whether talking to Ilya was really necessary. Maybe this could wait. Maybe he could give it a few more days and let Ilya and Ilyana figure things out on their own. The thought made him feel pathetic. Like a teenager looking for an escape route. The reality was that he was a grown man. A grown man who still couldn't manage a normal conversation with the father of his children.
His hesitation wasn't unfounded. There was a reason neither of them ever volunteered to have these conversations. Because, whether they intended to or not, they had established an unspoken rule over the years.
Every single time Shane and Ilya met up to talk… they ended up fucking.