“Maria, relax, let me explain.” Lukin steps forward.
“No!” She staggers back. “She’s pregnant!”
I step forward before I can stop myself. My heart is racing. “Maria—”
She turns to me, disbelief all over her face. “Zoe….”
“He didn’t force me,” I say, voice low but steady. “I chose this.”
Maria shakes her head. “No. You don’t see it. He’s wrapped you in this life, and now you think it’s yours.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I say, even though a part of me isn’t so sure. “And I’m still here.”
Her eyes search mine like she’s looking for the girl she used to know. Maybe she doesn’t find her, because when she speaks again, her voice is barely a whisper. “This is so disappointing, Zoe. You didn’t say a word!”
“I was scared,” I cry, and Lukin takes a step toward me.
“Zoe, let me handle this.”
“No.” I shake my head, my attention on Maria. “I’m so sorry, Maria. For everything. But this isn’t Lukin’s fault. I’m in love with him.”
Beside me, Lukin sucks in a breath. Maria stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Like I’ve just confessed to loving the devil.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”
The silence that follows is loud—thick and suffocating. Maria’s eyes are glassy with disbelief, and for a moment, I think she’s going to scream, cry, something.
But then—
A sharp pain cuts through my abdomen like lightning, and I double over with a gasp.
My hands fly to my stomach.
The air leaves my lungs.
“Zoe?” Lukin’s voice is suddenly closer, sharper.
My knees buckle, and his arms are around me before I hit the floor.
“I—I think….” I can barely get the words out. “It’s time.”
Panic flickers across Maria’s face.
Lukin’s already lifting me into his arms, shouting for help as he carries me toward the door.
And just like that, everything else fades. The argument, the doubt, the disbelief. There’s only one truth now—the baby is coming.
“Wait! Don’t move her!” Maria stops Lukin. “Take her into the bedroom. She needs to be laid down.”
“What? I need to get her to the hospital,” Lukin growls, his voice breaking. “She’s in pain.”
“Call an ambulance.” Maria directs Lukin towards the nearest bedroom. “We need towels, hot water, blankets. Now. She’s too far along—she’s not going to make it to the hospital.” She’s checking my pulse, her fingers tight on my wrist.
Lukin’s jaw tightens, but he obeys her without a word, barking orders to the staff. His control never breaks, but I see the storm in his eyes.
Everything’s a blur—colors, sounds, movement. I can’t process any of it. I’m not ready. Gosh, I’m not ready. The baby isn’t supposed to come for two weeks.
