Chapter Text
In the distance, the dacha burns.
A part of Milena goes up in smoke too, dark ashes and quick embers. She hopes it's just the soft, squishy weak part of her, like burning fat and skin from the bone, and nothing important. Nothing that she can't stand to lose and not get back, something better off pulled up by the roots.
Out of the corner of Milena's eye, Fine's expression twitches with grief and just the slightest hint of regret as the sky darkens. It… makes her seem so young, so lost, in that fragile moment. How old is she, Milena suddenly wonders, and swallows against the knot in her throat.
A terrible shame.
Each and every one of them is running from something, but at least… they have each other. It'll have to be enough, won't it?
Momo reaches for her hand, and Milena almost, almost, shies away before pointedly lacing her soft fingers with Momo's — a quiet promise. Milena may not be more, may in fact be less, but it will be enough. She will be better.
She will be enough.
Because for Milena… paradise is not a place, just a person, and she is already there.