I press a hand to my belly. She isn’t moving right now. I know that’s normal, that she doesn’t kick every minute of every day, but the silence makes my chest ache. Every little pause feels like a disaster waiting to happen.
My throat tightens.
Then I feel it. Petyr’s hand squeezing mine. I look over, and his eyes are locked on me. For once, they aren’t cold.
“You’ll be fine,” he says quietly. “I promise.”
A weak smile pulls at my lips. “How can you make a promise like that?”
“Because I’m your husband.”
“That’s it?” I huff out a short laugh. “That’s your logic?”
“More than logic. It’s fact.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles. “You’re my wife. My responsibility. That means I keep you safe. End of story.”
“You sound very sure of yourself,” I murmur.
He smirks faintly. “You married me. You should’ve known what you were getting into.”
I roll my eyes, but it feels good to banter with him again like old times. “Pretty sure I didn’t get much of a choice in the matter.”
“Doesn’t change the result.” His voice lowers. “You’re mine, Sima. You and our daughter. That means you’re under my protection. Always.”
Against my better judgment, my heart warms. Despite all the ugliness between us and the cage he’s built around me, right now, I feel like I can count on him. Like he’ll actually keep me safe.
I close my eyes and hold on to that warmth for a moment. But I know better. I can’t let myself be lulled into a false sense of security. Petyr is still the man who keeps me under lock and key.
If he hadn’t come home tonight, I wouldn’t have had the chance to ask for help. Without my phone, I can’t even call 911 on my own.
Relief mixes with bitterness, and the anxiety doesn’t fade. My hand stays pressed to my belly. I wait for a kick that doesn’t come.
“Feeling better?”
Dr. Agar’s voice snaps me out of my reverie. She walks back to our side of the curtain, smiling as she peels off her gloves and tosses them in the bin.
“A little,” I say. But despite my assurances, my hand wraps tighter around Petyr’s.
He hasn’t let go since we got here. His thumb keeps rubbing over my knuckles like he’s trying to anchor both of us.
“Excellent.” The doctor steps back in with a clipboard tucked under her arm.
Before I can say anything else, Petyr jumps in. “Did you find out what it was?” He’s been pacing holes in the floor waiting for this. “Will they pull through?”
“Of course.” Dr. Agar gives a firm nod. “Luckily, it was nothing serious. You’re both healthy. Mother and daughter.”
My body loosens all at once. I let out a shaky breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
I don’t even spare a thought for myself.She’s fine.My baby is fine.
Petyr squeezes my hand tighter, but I can feel the tension still rolling off him. He isn’t satisfied.
“What caused it, then?” he snaps. “She was on the floor, burning up. What the hell was that if not serious?”
“It’s hard to say for certain.” Dr. Agar purses her lips. “Could have been something she ate. Food poisoning, plus a bout of Braxton-Hicks contractions set off by her panic. False labor. Sometimes, the body mixes signals, especially in the third trimester.” She shifts the clipboard. “What matters is that she’s stable now. You’re both fine. You’re free to go. If anything else happens, call me anytime, day or night.”
Petyr’s jaw works like he’s ready to tear her apart. His eyes are hard. He’s not hearing the word “healthy” at all. All he hears is what could have been, and the fact that we still don’t know what it was for sure.
I cut in before he can start a fight with my OBGYN. “Thank you.” I smile at Dr. Agar. “That’s exactly what we’ll do.”
