Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67534 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
I try not to hover. Not at the ultrasound appointments or at the checkups. I try not to be suffocating, even though all I want is to get clarity on how she feels. I laid all my cards on the table, but she keeps hers so close to the vest. Most days, I’m not even sure that she likes me very much.
Then, in the blink of an eye, seven months have gone by. She comes into the kitchen with her jaw clenched and one hand braced against the counter, breathing shallowly like she did a lot after she was shot.
“Don’t panic,” she says vaguely.
“Why would I panic?” I ask curiously.
Her mouth twitches once. “My water just broke.”
I nod and make my way to the door, where I’ve had a bag packed for the last three weeks. I help her out to the waiting town car and we have a relatively peaceful drive to the best hospital in the city, where I’ve had the deluxe birthing suite on hold.
She bears the pain with the same amount of grit she bears everything. She doesn’t scream or cry. The doctor brings her an epidural, and she merely winces as they stick the longest needle I’ve ever seen into her spine. I’ve killed a lot of men in my time as pakhan, but I was about ready to pass out from the sight of that.
Hours pass in a blur. The nurses who help her are steady and blunt. The doctor gives instructions. Anya actually listens and follows their orders. It’s a modern-day miracle.
Near the end, when exhaustion finally cracks the edges of her composure, she grabs my wrist and pulls me closer.
“If something happens to our baby,” she says through clenched teeth, “You have to make them all pay for it.”
“Nothing is happening to her,” I tell her confidently. “You’re just being a worrywart like always.”
She rolls her eyes at me, and I think my words give her the motivation to pull through. Then it’s time to start pushing. She holds my hand tightly, but I don’t mind the pain. It’s nothing compared to what she’s had to endure for the last nine months.
It feels like time stops moving, and then there’s the strong, proud cry of our baby girl. It starts thin and then grows stronger, filling the room and cutting through everything else like a blade. The nurse lifts a small, squirming body, pink and furious and alive, and places her against Anya’s chest.
Anya stares down like she can’t quite believe her. Then her face softens in a way that doesn’t erase her edges. It just adds something new to them.
“Congratulations on your baby girl,” the nurse says.
Anya laughs once, breathless and disbelieving.
“Hi, my daughter,” she says affectionately. “I’m never going to let anything happen to you.”
She looks up at me, eyes wet, and she doesn’t apologize for it. There’s no reason for her to.
Once our daughter is cleaned up and we’re taken back to Anya’s suite, we just stare at the little girl sleeping in Anya’s arms. She’s so perfect.
“I need to tell you something,” Anya says quietly, looking down at our daughter.
“You can tell me anything,” I say, running my fingers through her hair.
She nods, and I can tell that she’s nervous about whatever she’s going to say. I wish she knew by now that she never has to be nervous to tell me anything. There’s nothing she can say that would drive me away.
“I told you once that I wished we had a boy,” she starts. “I didn’t want a girl who would be treated like an object and given no choice in her life. But you showed me that there’s another option. You’re the first person who’s ever let me just be myself, without expectation or asking me to change.”
“You’re perfect the way you are,” I say quietly, a lump forming in my throat that I don’t quite understand.
“You’re the first person who ever thought so.” She laughs. “And I tried so hard not to love you for that. I thought that love was weakness. I thought it meant I had to give up myself to make someone else happy. But over the last few months, I realized it’s the opposite. I want you to be happy because I love you.”
My heart stutters in my chest. This is the first time she’s given me any indication of how she feels. I don’t speak. I don’t want to shatter this perfect moment.
“I never wanted to belong to anyone before,” she continues. “But Viktor, I really want to be your wife. And I want us to raise our daughter to see what healthy love can look like. I want her to know that she can hope for better in this life.”
I nod and bend down to kiss her gently. It’s chaste and gentle. After all, our tiny daughter is sleeping on her chest. Even so, I feel her love through that kiss, and it’s the best feeling in the entire world.