Page 100 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

Leonid’s breath catches audibly.

I ignore him, staring at the ceiling as the doctor squirts cold gel onto my lower stomach. The probe glides over my skin, slippery. I keep my eyes fixed on the screen, black and gray static at first, and then it appears, a tiny, flickering shape.

A thump-thump sound fills the room. A heartbeat.

A smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. Tears slide hot down my temples.

Since I found out a week ago, it’s felt surreal, like something happening to someone else. But hearing the heartbeat… seeing the little flutter on the screen… it’s real. I’m having a baby. I’m going to be a mother.

Dr. Ramirez smiles softly. “Everything looks good so far. I’ll print some pictures for you. Meet me in my office when you’re dressed.”

She hands me a tissue to wipe the gel off my stomach. The door clicks shut as she leaves.

Leonid hasn’t moved. He stares at the frozen image on the screen, then at me, eyes wide, stunned, almost reverent.

“We’re having a baby?” His voice cracks on the last word.

I nod, throat too tight to speak.

He steps forward, cradles my face with both hands, thumbs brushing away fresh tears.

“God, solynshko, that’s… that’s fantastic,” he breathes.

He leans down and kisses me, soft at first, then deeper, desperate, like he’s pouring everything he can’t say into it.

I should push him away. But I don’t. I kiss him back, hungry, aching, hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.

When we finally break apart, foreheads pressed together, breathing hard, I whisper, “We need to talk.”

He nods against me. “We do. But let’s see the doctor first.”

I nod, too overwhelmed to speak, and let him help me back into my dress with careful, reverent touches, zipping it up slowly. My body is hyperaware of him, every graze of his knuckles, every breath against the nape of my neck, and I have to close my eyes for a second to steady myself.

He picks up my purse without being asked, slings it over his shoulder, and walks me to Dr. Ramirez’s office.

We sit side by side. The doctor smiles warmly as she pulls up the ultrasound images on her screen.

“Everything looks good with the baby,” she says, turning the monitor toward us. “Heartbeat strong, measurements right on track. But we did notice your blood pressure is slightly elevated.”

I sit up straighter, heart lurching. “What’s wrong?”

Dr. Ramirez raises a calming hand. “Nothing to panic about yet. It’s common in pregnancy, sometimes caused by stress, sometimes hormonal. But because of your readings, we’d like to keep you here for observation. We’ll monitor you, run a few more tests, and work on bringing it down safely.”

My free hand instinctively goes to my stomach. “Will that affect the baby? Is the baby okay?”

Leonid’s grip tightens on my hand. “Is the baby going to be okay, doctor?” he asks.

“Everything is fine with the baby right now,” Dr. Ramirez assures us. “That’s exactly why we want to address this proactively. High blood pressure can become a concern if it stays elevated, but we’re catching it early.”

Leonid’s jaw flexes. “Do whatever needs to be done,” he says, tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t care what it costs. Make sure she’s fine.”

The doctor nods. “We will.”

They move fast after that, paperwork, and a private room on the maternity floor. Leonid doesn’t leave my side once. He helps me into the bed, props pillows behind my back, pulls the blanket up like I’m made of glass.

Once the nurse leaves, he drags a chair close and sits, elbows on the mattress, my hand cradled between both of his.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For ignoring you that day outside the office. For making you think I’d moved on.”