This was one fight that Anatoly needed to take in small increments. A little here, a little there, that would be the best way to go about this. Emotions should not even come into this until Svetlana started to come out of her walls, until she started talking. But even then, he knew the emotions had to be in small doses until she was freer with her actions and words. Anatoly needed to unravel things little by little. For now, his presence and showing that he was going to ensure all of them were safe and kept from harm would be the best starting place. Showing that he cared and he was changing and doing little things to try and get her to open up to him again. He'd done it before, and if it killed him he'd do it again.
Looking back, he wished he'd never crossed paths with Molokov. Pride had been his downfall, and he hadn't even seen it until Bangkok. Even as he won, he was blind to his pride. He should never had listened to Freddie telling him to win for the game. Anatoly had been losing to keep his family safe. After Freddie's little intervention, Anatoly thought he was winning to keep his family safe, to beat Molokov and everyone else at their little games. But the truth was, he won for his pride, he could see that now. Everything had gone to his head and he had changed into something that he didn't even recognize as being him. His parents would've been ashamed of what he'd become, how he'd abandoned his family for some game. Now he was trying to find the man he used to be and be better for it.
Having always been on the outside looking in nearly from the day he was born, Anatoly had been gifted, or cursed depending on how one looked at it, with watching people and being able to read them. It was what allowed him to read Svetlana so well. He could see the tiniest changes as though there were spotlights centered on them. He was glad when Svetlana at least tried to eat, and he made no move to force her to eat more. After all, he suspected she hadn't eaten much, if at all, the past week or two, so he would take a bite here and there until she could stomach more. And oh he'd make sure she'd get a bite here and there. Sure his methods were probably passive-aggressive with the whole leaving a sandwich near her and eating one himself, and he'd continue doing the same with other food as the days went on, but he needed to make sure Svetlana didn't drop dead on him from hunger. Their daughters needed both of them, and even if Svetlana was closed off to him, he wasn't about to just sit back and watch her waste away without trying to do something about it.
Then he saw the way she rubbed her throat. Sipping his tea, he knew she wasn't rubbing her throat because it was sore. From experience, it was from her remembering something unpleasant. He could only guess at what she was even thinking about. Her experience in that other world? Having to deal with the other version of himself? He wasn't about to ask, and he had a perfectly good idea of what Molokov did. Oh he'd seen the tape of the argument Svetlana and the other him had, and it had made him angrier than he had ever been in his entire life. So much so that he'd tracked down Molokov and showed him a thing or two about blackmail. As much as he wanted to tell Svetlana he took care of Molokov in that other world, he wouldn't. Now wasn't the time, and even if he eventually told her, he didn't think she'd believe him. Sure she knew he could yell when he was upset, but aside from the times he saved her from assailants, he'd never hit anyone. Not even Freddie, though he really wanted to. So for her to believe he killed Molokov she'd probably take a joke. And besides, what weight would that carry in this world? It didn't change anything here. He'd achieved something for that other world, but not for his own. While he did a favor for the other him, he'd returned to find his own life back in shambles. It wasn't even his fault this time, but he still felt as though it was. What was a little more guilt anyways? He had plenty of it all ready, but there was still room for more, even if it wasn't his to carry.