“Thank you.” I squeeze her hand gratefully.
After Elena leaves, I return to my research, only this time I go to Mikhail’s office.
The sunlight is better there, the room more open and airy.
The websites blur together as I read about witness protection, about how to disappear completely, about starting over in a new country with a new name.
Part of me knows it’s futile.
Mikhail would find me.
He has resources and connections that span the globe.
But the other part, the terrified part that’s growing stronger every day, needs to know there’s an escape route if everything falls apart.
The afternoon drags by in a haze of pain and fear.
I try to eat the crackers Elena brought, but my stomach rebels.
I manage a few sips of tea before another wave of cramping forces me to lie down on the leather couch in Mikhail’s office.
I must doze off because I wake to the sound of Mikhail’s voice in the hallway.
My heart leaps, a mixture of relief and anxiety flooding through me.
I sit up too quickly, and the room spins.
“Sophia?” Mikhail appears in the doorway, his blonde hair slightly disheveled, his green eyes immediately scanning me with concern. “What are you doing in here? You should be resting in bed.”
“I was just working on some things.” I gesture vaguely at the closed laptop. “Lost track of time.”
He crosses to me in three long strides, his hand cupping my face with surprising gentleness. “You look pale. Are you feeling all right?”
“Just tired.” Another lie. They’re coming so easily now. “How was your day?”
“Complicated.” He sits beside me, and I lean into his warmth instinctively. “But nothing I can’t handle. The question is, how are you really feeling?”
For a moment, I consider telling him everything. But then I see the exhaustion etched into his features, the tension in his shoulders, and I can’t do it.
“I’m fine,” I say instead. “The baby and I are both fine.”
He studies my face, and I know he doesn’t entirely believe me. But he doesn’t push, just pulls me closer and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I love you,” he murmurs against my skin. “Both of you.”
“I love you too.” The words are true, even if everything else I’m saying is a lie.
That night, I lie awake long after Mikhail falls asleep, his arm draped protectively across my waist. I stare at the ceiling, my mind racing through scenarios and possibilities. What if the pregnancy complications get worse? What if I lose the baby? What if something happens to Mikhail and I’m left alone to raise our child in this violent world?
The questions spiral endlessly, feeding the fear that’s been growing inside me.
By the time dawn breaks, I haven’t slept at all.
The next two days pass in a blur of hidden pain and forced smiles.
I avoid Mikhail as much as possible, claiming I need rest.
Elena checks on me constantly, her concern growing with each passing hour.
The cramping intensifies, and I start spotting blood.
