Michael looked at his lawyer.
His face was no longer angry.
It was calculating.
And then I realized he’s not finished yet.
“And who will be a guardian?” he asked.
Todor looked at me.
I said:
This is written in the documents.
The judge flipped through the pages.
Then he looked up.
“In case of death or impossibility of both parents, the child’s guardian will be Mrs. Nadezhda Stoyanova.
Sylvia gasped.
Hope? This woman from Russia?
“Yes,” said Todor. “My daughter from my first marriage.”
The room was quiet again.
“You have another daughter?” asked Sylvia.
Todor nodded.
“Yes. It’s fifty-two. He has two children. He knows Elena. He knows Emilia. She agrees to be a part of her life.
Michael turned pale.
“So you don’t even believe us.
It hurt to hear him.
But I couldn’t lie.
“You took me to court, Michael.
He opened his mouth.
Then he shut it down.
The judge leaned back.
“I see no evidence from the documents provided so far that Mrs. Mileva is mentally incapable of making decisions. On the contrary, there are clear medical assessments, legal training and financial organisation related to child care.
My children’s lawyer stood up.
“Your Honor, we want an independent psychiatric examination.
The judge nodded.
“That’s your right. But the application for temporary restriction of parental rights and property management is rejected at this stage.
Sylvia started crying.
Michael didn’t move.
Todor just closed his eyes.
I pushed Emilia to myself.
It wasn’t a win.
I didn’t feel like a winner.
I was a mother who had just found out how far her own children could go when their fear mixed with greed.
And I was the mother of a baby who would need me more than ever.
The trial went on for a few more months.
There were expertise.
Talking to doctors.
Financial assessments.
Every week, someone checked if I was sensible enough, healthy enough, capable enough to be a mother.
In the beginning, it humiliated me.
Then I started looking at him in a different way.
