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“You’ll see more of me now,” she promised as she offered the cup.

The tea was tepid. Yaya’s hands weren’t as steady as they used to be and she sometimes forgot she was holding a cup or what she was supposed to do with it.

“Are you the maid?” Yaya asked in her creaky voice.

“I’m Alia.” She was ever hopeful that her name would trigger a memory.

“We’re in Athens? To see the doctor?”

“Yes! You have an appointment later this week.” Alia’s spirits rose. Yaya rarely connected with the present anymore. This moment of clarity was deeply heartening.

“I hope he can help. Orestes wants a son so badly. Where is he?” Her eyes held a blankness that made Alia’s hopes sink into her bare feet.

“He had to run out,” she said gently. “He’ll be back soon.”

She had learned to tell a white lie because the alternative was to thrust Yaya back into the grief of losing her husband.

It made her ache, though, to watch Yaya slip away bit by bit. It made her worry that Yaya felt lost inside her own head, in a place that Alia couldn’t reach her, and it forced her to face that soon she would have to strike out on her own, the way most people her age did.

Being alone was Alia’s mortal fear. A true phobia, in fact. She could use the bathroom by herself, but never locked the door, afraid of being trapped. A walk on an empty beach made her hyperventilate. She couldn’t sleep in a room alone. Growing up, she had always shared a bedroom with Yaya. It had been a practical choice when Alia had been a toddler. Later, it had been more economical for them to share and leave an extra bedroom for guests, but even in the slow season, Alia slept in the cot in Yaya’s room.

Her phobia was one of her reasons for agreeing to this bizarre proposal. Yes, she wanted the best care for Yaya, but she had always known that if Yaya was moved into a care home, she would be truly alone. She wasn’t ready to face it.

It was silly to be so afraid, not just of being physically alone, but the other part: being an adult. Which she already was. She had been shouldering a lot of responsibility for years, but she didn’t crave independence the way most people her age did. She wanted connection and obligation and the sense of belonging that came with having a family. All the things that had eluded her because she’d been orphaned twice, once by whoever had given birth to her, and again when she lost Herena to the clouds of dementia.

Marrying Spiro had meant staying with Yaya a little longer and being a little closer to Julian and not having to face any of that. Here at the villa, she had people around her every day, even if they were strangers who worked for Spiro.

None of the staff had questioned her desire to be close to Yaya in the night, either. They understood that the senior would be confused by this change, but with Spiro home now, Alia had known she was expected to be with her husband.

It hadn’t been a chore to settle on the bed beside him. His coma had sat heavily against her phobia, filling her with empathy at how isolated he might feel inside his dream state. Compassion had drawn her to his side every day, compelling her to reassure him. In that way, tending to him had been very real, leaving her feeling attached to him in a deep and primordial way.

Which made his resentment of her painful and distressing.

She couldn’t make him like her, though, in the same way she couldn’t make Yaya remember her.

No, she had to learn how to be alone because very soon she would be.

That inescapable reality sent fingers of fear creeping along her spine, though.

She shook it off and reminded herself she still had Yaya and a chatty nurse who came back to assure her that Spiro was doing well. He had stepped into a meeting with his assistant, who had just arrived.

Alia sat to watch Yaya’s shows with her and tried not to be afraid of the future.

* * *

Spiro’s assistant, Florian, brought Spiro a phone, a card full of well-wishes and a concerning report on how much time Lambros had been spending in the halls of MSPM, hosting meetings and influencing decisions.

“He claims your mother asked him to keep an eye on things,” Florian said with tight lips. “I spoke to security, asking why he had been issued an executive pass. Apparently, the board agreed that your family is entitled to ensure things are running smoothly, especially since your brother and wife were both tied up elsewhere.”

Spiro swore tiredly. He didn’t have time to get his strength back. He needed to be walking the halls himself, proving he was capable of being in charge. He would not lose to Lambros again.

But even the discussion he was having with Florian was bringing on a headache. He called his housekeeper to find Alia and send her to his office.

He and Florian were in the tasteful, professional space down the hall from his bedroom suite. It had a modern desk of glass and steel, a big-screen television and a sectional he could stretch out on. As he continued his instructions to Florian, there was a light knock.

“You wanted to see me?” Alia poked her head in.

“Kyría.” Florian leaped to his feet.