In the Shadow of Flags: (14 Holy Verses of Love)

In the Shadow of the flags is a lyrical, politically charged literary novel about love and betrayal at the volatile crossroads of war, nationhood, and identity. Set against the backdrop of a modern European conflict, it tells the haunting story of Katya, a Russian-born woman and former intelligence asset, and Danylo, her Ukrainian husband and Deputy Minister-two lovers caught between history and hope, secrets and skin. When Katya returns to Kyiv after a long absence in Moscow, she brings with her more than just a coded recipe and a silent apology-she carries the weight of her past: a double life as a Russian operative, a truth she has hidden even from herself. Her confession unravels not just her marriage but their fragile peace. Danylo, grieving his brother's death and harboring wounds from war and public duty, must decide whether love can survive betrayal-or whether it must be rebuilt from ash and wire. What unfolds is a stark and intimate chronicle of a marriage made flammable by geopolitics and grief. Through interwoven chapters of prose and poetry, readers witness the anatomy of a love both sacred and compromised. The narrative dances between trauma and tenderness, where language becomes both prison and poem. Their home, once a sanctuary, becomes a war room of whispered lies, barbed silences, and clandestine tenderness. Katya and Danylo's story travels from bombed-out Kyiv to refugee camps in Poland, to a crumbling apartment in Queens, and ultimately, to the fragile stillness of an American home. Along the way, they navigate exile not just from country, but from certainty. They wrestle with questions of identity, guilt, motherhood, and what it means to be loyal-not to a flag, but to a person. Their children, Sofia and Lev, inherit the tremble in their parents' hands. Sofia writes a viral essay titled My Mother Was a Spy. My Father Was a Patriot. I Am Just Trying to Be a Kid. Lev draws pictures of houses with no walls and flags that say only "Home." Their voices offer a generational echo to the adults' silence, giving shape to trauma too big for politics and too personal for diplomacy. Despite surveillance, displacement, and betrayal, Katya and Danylo keep returning to each other-not because it is safe, but because it is true. Their love is not romantic in the traditional sense. It is bruised, inconvenient, stubborn. It survives not in declarations but in shared glances across glass, in poems typed into the skin, in the whispered names of the dead. It is a kind of intimacy that refuses erasure. This novel explores: The cost of defection, both literal and emotional. How children carry the aftermath of ideology. The erasure and resurrection of female agency in espionage and family life. The radical, quiet power of staying-when everything screams to run. In the end, In the Shadow the flags is not about victory, but survival. Not about patriotism, but presence. It's a testament to the fragile architectures of love built amid ruins-where lovers become refugees, traitors become parents, and peace is not declared, but made, moment by moment. It's a novel that sings of survival in broken tongues, that stitches family onto memory like a threadbare flag. Through all of it-missiles, lies, motherhood, forgiveness-it insists: some kinds of love are immune to propaganda. Some stories outlive their nations. And some verses, even the satanic ones, are still holy.