I should reach out to Jemma.The thought sneaks up on me, heavily with the guilt of all the people I’ve abandoned. Every bridge I burned when I ran.
Once this war is over, I’ll work on rebuilding every last one.
Today, on the drive back, we take a break from cracking jokes to sit in companionable silence. The weather’s nice: sunny, crisp air, the kind that feels like a clean start. I’ve got the window cracked just enough for the breeze to brush my face. Lilia is asleep in her carrier beside me, and for once, everything feels simple.
“How’d the check-up go?” Luka asks from the driver’s seat.
“The doctor said she’s perfect.” I can’t quite keep the pride out of my voice. I never understood those moms who celebrated every little thing their kids did, but guess what? My baby is healthy, and that feels worth popping open a bottle of Petyr’s finest champagne over. “Growing fast.”
“I can see that.” Luka can’t quite keep the smile off his face, either. “She keeps getting longer. Makes you want to pose with her like those guys holding a big fish upside down.”
“Right?!”
“Of course, I’m not going to do that.” His cheeks pale. “I care about my hands. Would love to keep ‘em.”
“Maybe when she’s older.”And Petyr’s on a business trip across the Atlantic,I think but don’t say, because it doesn’t need saying. Luka is as loyal as they come, but I bet he still feels the phantom pain of his boss’s knuckles every time he blows his nose.
My gaze wanders back to Lilia.Strong,the doctor said.Healthy.She smiled and told me I should be proud. I thanked her and tried not to cry from relief. Every appointment still feels like holding my breath until someone tells me I can exhale again. Because, yes, that’s another moment where I’m expecting everything to go sideways.
Then she told me something else.
I’mhealthy, too. Fully healed. Cleared foreverything.
The way she said it was so casual, like she was talking about the weather. Not the thing Petyr and I have been quietly waiting on for weeks
I thanked her, smiled, and acted normal. But inside, my stomach flipped.
Because I know what that means.
Petyr never pushed. He’s been patient, maybe more than I expected. But I could always feel it: the low tension between us, the way his hand would linger a little too long on my hip, his breath against my neck when we’d fall asleep. He’s been waiting for the doctor’s okay.
And now, he has it.
I’m not afraid of being with him again. Not really. If anything, I want it. The time we’ve spent together has made it hardnotto want him. He’s been softer, more deliberate. Every touch feelsmore charged than it used to. The restraint between us has only made the wanting worse.
But underneath the warmth, there’s a sliver of worry I can’t shake.
He said once that he wanted to start trying for an heir right away. He didn’t say it again, not since Lilia was born, but I haven’t forgotten.
And I know him well enough to understand he doesn’t change his mind easily.
I do want more children. Ido.Someday.
Just not now.
I want time to breathe first. To figure out how to be a mother to this little girl before I try to be one again. I want to give her my full attention, all of it, without splitting it between two cries, two bottles, two lives. I want to keep this fragile peace for as long as I can before life complicates it again.
I’m just not sure how to tell Petyr any of that.
As the car turns into the driveway, I glance out the window at the tall iron gates closing behind us.
Petyr’s already there. He’s standing at the top of the stairs, hands in his pockets, his coat still on like he’s just come back himself.
The second he spots us, his whole demeanor softens. It’s subtle, but I see it. The tension in his shoulders eases, his mouth curves faintly. Almost a smile.
He meets us halfway down the steps. “How did it go?”
“Good.” I grin and unbuckle Lilia from her seat. “Really good. The doctor says she’s growing like a strong, healthy cabbage.”
