Hathor [18+]

Eyes that see

Nikolai Romanov

It took Hathor another hour to fall asleep; she couldn't stop crying, and the only thing I could do was hold her and tell her I'm here for her. In the morning, I woke up to my phone buzzing in my jeans — I was barely able to take my shoes off last night.

"Da?" It was Odessa on the other side of the fall.

"I'm outside," she told. "Brought my cooking clothes and everything."

My eyes traveled down to look at Hathor peacefully sleeping against my chest "Give me a minute."

"See you then," she hung up.

Carefully, I removed myself from her grip — which is strong — and successfully did it without waking her up. I tip-toed to the door and opened it to find Odessa in clothes that are certainly not for cooking.

"Morning," she said walking past me "be a darling and bring the bags inside."

My right eyebrow arched as I peeked my head out to find five cloth bags on the floor. What in the world is she making? There's only three of us.

As Odessa asked, I brought the bags to the kitchen and she had an apron on already. She does need to cover those white two-thousand-dollars jeans and cashmere top; she's insane.

"Are you sure this is the right attire?"

Odessa nodded "Da, kogda ya noshu doroguyu odezhdu vo vremya gotovki, yeda poluchayetsya luchshe," she explained, pulling the supplies out.

(Yes, when I wear expensive clothes while cooking the food comes out better.)

I chuckled "Khorosho. Ya sobirayus' prinyat' dush. Pozhaluysta, postaraytes' vesti sebya kak mozhno tishe, Khator vse yeshche spit."

(Okay. I'm going to take a shower. Please try to be as quiet as possible, Hathor is still sleeping.)

She hummed in response as she kept on unpacking the breakfast supplies.

I went to my bedroom to take a quick shower and change into fresh clothes — it instantly made me feel better. For today I'm wearing a light gray virgin wool, cashmere and silk-blend rollneck sweater, a pair of straight-leg selvedge jeans, and beige suede clogs (my inside shoes).