But she isn’t looking at me.
My heart is beating harder than it should.
Faster.
Louder.
And for once, I don’t have control over it.
So I say nothing.
I wait until the doctor gathers his things and leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him. I sit beside her on the couch.
There’s something unfamiliar moving through me—light, sharp, alive.
It pulses in my veins, building, expanding.
Too close to joy.
Too close to something I don’t fully trust yet.
But I don’t let it show.
Not completely.
Because she still isn’t looking at me.
I study her instead.
Carefully.
Trying to understand where she is in this moment.
She exhales slowly.
Then, quietly—
“At first…” she begins, her voice soft, almost hesitant. “I only wanted a child to secure the Petrov legacy.”
I don’t interrupt.
Her fingers twist together in her lap.
“It was part of the plan,” she continues. “Something necessary.”
Then her voice shifts.
Warmer.
More certain.
“But now….” She swallows. “The idea of raising a child with you….” She finally looks at me. “It feels…meaningful.”
Something in my chest tightens.
“I feel the same,” I admit.
No hesitation.
