The words hit harder than they should. This woman who has every reason not to trust me, who I’ve forced into marriage and captivity and impossible choices—she believes me about this.
The door opens. Dr. Kuzmin enters, professional and efficient.
“Mrs. Sharov, we’re ready for you.”
Elena stands on shaky legs. I stand with her, hand moving to her waist instinctively.
“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask.
She looks at me for a long moment. Then nods. “Yes. Please.”
The examination room is small and clinical. Elena sits on the paper-covered table, hands gripping the edge, while Dr. Kuzmin prepares a blood draw.
I stand against the wall, giving them space but unable to leave. My mind runs through scenarios compulsively—security if she’s pregnant, dietary requirements, threat assessments, how to protect her and a child simultaneously.
“This will confirm pregnancy if present,” Dr. Kuzmin explains. “We’ll have results in approximately thirty minutes. I can also perform an ultrasound if the blood test is positive.”
Elena nods wordlessly.
The blood draw is quick. Dr. Kuzmin labels the vial and exits, leaving us alone.
I move to Elena immediately. Stand between her legs where she sits on the table, hands settling on her thighs.
“Whatever the result,” I tell her, “we handle it together.”
“Together.” She tests the word. “Like a team?”
“Like partners.” It’s the closest I can get to what I actually mean. “You’re not alone in this. You’re not facing it without support.”
Her hands come up to rest on my chest, just over my heart. “I’m terrified.”
“I know.”
“I’m also…” She pauses, searching for words. “Not completely opposed to the idea. Which terrifies me more.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes this real. Makes us real. Makes it harder to pretend this is just captivity and survival.” Her eyes meet mine. “If I’m carrying your child, I can’t keep telling myself I’m just enduring until I can escape.”
“You ran three days ago,” I point out.
“I know. Look how that turned out.” Her laugh is hollow. “Maybe I’m meant to be here. Maybe fighting it just causes more pain.”
“Or maybe you’re exhausted and traumatized and processing too much at once.” I brush hair back from her face. “Don’t make permanent decisions based on temporary emotions.”
“That’s rich coming from the man who forced me into permanent marriage.”
“Fair point.”
We fall into silence. My hands haven’t moved from her thighs. Her hands are still on my chest, feeling my heartbeat.
The tension between us is thick. Heavy with everything unsaid, everything we’re both feeling but not naming.
I lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away. Press my forehead to hers, breathing her in.
“You’re not alone anymore,” I murmur. “Not you. Not our child. I won’t let you be.”
“That sounds like a threat and a promise.”
