MIKHAIL
The hospital corridor stretches endlessly before me, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry insects.
My boots echo against the linoleum as I pace, each step a metronome counting the seconds since they took Sophia away.
Blood.
There was so much blood on her pants, on my hands, on the leather seats of the SUV.
I press my palms against my eyes, trying to block out the image of her face twisted in pain, but it’s burned into my retinas.
This is my fault.
The stress of our argument, my insistence on returning to my old ways, the constant threat hanging over us like a guillotine blade.
I did this to her.
To our baby.
“Mikhail.” Melinda’s voice cuts through my spiral. “You need to sit down. You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”
I ignore her, continuing my circuit.
Sit down?
How can I sit down when Sophia is in there, possibly losing our child?
When every second that passes without news feels like a knife twisting in my gut?
“Pacing won’t help her,” Melinda tries again, moving to block my path. Her blue eyes are red-rimmed from crying, but her voice is steady. “The doctors are doing everything they can.”
“It’s not enough.” The words come out as a growl. “I should have insisted on a private medical team at the house. Should have had specialists on call twenty-four seven. Should have?—”
“Should have what? Wrapped her in bubble wrap?” Melinda crosses her arms. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” I spin to face her, and she takes a step back at whatever she sees in my expression. “I brought her into my world. Forced her to marry me. Put her in constant danger. And now our baby might die because of the stress I’ve caused.”
“Stop it.” Her voice sharpens. “Sophia chose to stay with you. Chose to love you despite everything. Don’t dishonor that choice by taking all the blame.”
I want to argue, but the fight drains out of me. I sink into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs lining the wall, my head in my hands.
“Tell me about when you found out,” Melinda says quietly, sitting beside me. “About the baby.”
I lift my head to look at her. “Why?”
“Because you need to remember why you’re fighting so hard. Why this matters so much.”
The memory surfaces, sharp and clear. Sophia’s face when she told me, the mixture of fear and hope in her blue eyes.
The way my heart had stopped, then started again, beating faster than it ever had.
The overwhelming terror and joy that crashed over me in equal measure.
“I never thought I’d have this,” I say, my voice rough. “A family. A real family, not the twisted version I grew up with. When she told me, I felt like I’d been given something precious and fragile, and I had no idea how to hold it without breaking it.”
“You’re doing better than you think,” Melinda says.
Before I can respond, the door to the examination room opens.
