Gustav treats me like I am made of glass. He shadows me from room to room, hovering close enough that I feel the heat of his body on the back of my neck. His hand is always somewhere on me, often just the tips of his fingers resting at my hip bone, as if keeping contact will tether me to this world and keep me from fading again.
Our baby shifts and I glance down, reminding me I’m not dreaming. There is a whole person in there. A little Sokolov. Half me. Half him.
Honestly, that terrifies me.
The truth is, I didn’t want to be a mother yet. Not until I knew for certain Gustav was well.
And apparently, he is—
God,why am I doubting him? Be grateful.
I want Gustav to be a good father. I want him stable, present, protective in ways that do not involve hatchets and blood. I know he took good care of me while I was out. People keep telling me that. They say he did not leave my side. They say he fed me and talked to me and cursed anyone who suggested she might not wake up. But I was asleep then. Now I am awake again.
Did the madness really leave forever?
Just then, Gustav answers a call, and Micha gives me promising news.
“Gustav has behaved,” he says, watching me with a sympathetic softness. “No trouble with the Council. No trouble with rival families. Gustav only cared about you. They have eased off.”
Relief washes through me. A quiet, trembling exhale. If Gustav is stable, the Council has no reason to test him further. No reason to force me to choose between betraying my husband or dying with him.
But the relief is short-lived.
My phone buzzes on the table.
Rupert
Heard you awoke. Welcome back.
I slide the screen face-down. wondering what this means.
Physical therapy is brutal. My muscles are weak from disuse, my balance off, my coordination sluggish. Every stretch burns. Every step feels like walking underwater. But I push through it, driven by a mix of pride and desperation.
I don’t want Gustav treating me like a fragile ornament forever. I want to be the wife who ran through forests beside him. Who fought beside him. Who held his mind together with a touch.
My phone buzzes again during another session.
Damn.
Rupert
Have you thought about our conversation?
A shiver rolls down my spine He wants an answer. He wants me to deliver Gustav’s fate into his hands. Yet my husband is doing fine. He’s sound and present. I have nothing to worry about. Yeah.
I block Rupert.
Three weeks pass.
Pregnancy is untroubled. No Council contact. Therapy is improving my strength.
I feel great.
Except for one thing.
I curl beside Gustav on our bed. He is gentle with me. Almost reverent. He strokes my hair and smooths the blankets around me, treating me like something sacred. But he also avoids touching me too intimately. He kisses my forehead instead of my mouth. He wraps his arms around me but keeps his hips a careful distance away. He watches me sleep instead of pulling me close to grind into my body the way he used to.
I hate it.
