Mikhail saw where my attention had gone. Smiled that knowing smile.
"Go to your wife, Pakhan," he said, the title carrying affection. "The rest of it can wait. This moment? This is yours."
I didn't need to be told twice.
Wewereinoursuite. The party was over, the house settling into quiet. Sophie sat on the edge of our bed, still wearing her ivory dress, her hair coming loose. She looked impossibly young in the lamplight.
My wife.
Mrs. Sophie Besharov. The woman who'd walked down an aisle to me this morning, who'd promised forever, who wore my ring now alongside the leather collar.
"I'm so happy, Kolya," she whispered, her eyes bright with tears that hadn't quite fallen.
"Me too, printsessa." I moved to kneel in front of her, my hands finding the small buttons at her back. Pearl-like buttons, dozens of them. My fingers worked through them methodically, each one revealing another inch of her skin. She smelled like roses and champagne and Sophie.
She was quiet as I worked, breathing slow and even. Not Little right now. Just Sophie. My wife.
"I have a wedding gift for you," she said suddenly, nervousness in her voice.
I looked up. She was biting her lower lip—her tell when she was anxious about something important.
"You already gave me a gift." The vintage chess set she'd found at an estate sale. Hand-carved pieces from before the Revolution.
"A different gift." She reached beside her, pulling out a small white box. Slightly crumpled, cheap cardboard. "It's a little early. And it's not very well wrapped."
I took it, confused. "Should I open it now?"
"Yes. Please."
The box was light. I lifted the lid carefully.
Inside, nestled on white silk, was a chess piece.
An ivory pawn.
Small, perfect, yellowed slightly with age. It didn't match the set from this morning—this was older, more delicate. The kind of piece from antique sets that got broken up and sold individually.
I stared at it.
My mind—the one that calculated seventeen moves ahead—just stopped. Went completely blank.
"Sophie—"
"A pawn," she said softly, and her hand moved to rest on her stomach.
Everything clicked into terrible, wonderful focus.
"Sophie?" My voice came out wrecked. "Are you—"
"I'm pregnant, Kolya."
The words detonated. Restructured my entire understanding of reality.
Pregnant.
Sophie was pregnant.
We were going to have a baby.
