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He nods once and then turns to walk away. I stand up on shaking legs and close my bedroom door.
As soon as it is closed the tears begin to fall in streams down my cheeks. How can this be real? This is not real. Kiril probably had the doctor fake the test to force me to stay here longer. I am not really pregnant. This is a trick. A horrible trick. I fall back onto the bed and bury my face in the pillow, muffling the sobs that rush out of my body.
***
For days I find I cannot get out of bed.
I try and sleep the horror away.
All I want to do is talk to Lauren. She has been there for me through everything and now, after being kidnapped, held prisoner, and finding out that I am pregnant—this is the craziest situation I have ever been in, and I just want to talk to Lauren. She would listen to me telling her about everything that has happened to me and somehow, she would still be able to make me smile. She has a way of making even the most difficult challenges in like seem like something easy. She has a quiet, yet unmistakable strength about her.
All I want to do is talk to her.
Except that if I tell her about the pregnancy, I will have to tell her about everything else, and I know I can’t. I can’t put her at risk like that. She will flip her lid trying to rescue me and take me away from all of this. She will put herself in danger for me, and I can never let that happen.
So, I keep my bedroom door closed and I shut everyone and everything out. If it is not here, I don’t have to deal with the reality of what is happening.
Kiril often knocks on my door, but I don’t respond. Sometimes he opens it to bring in a tray of food which he leaves on my bedside table. He tries to talk to me when he does come into the room, but I don’t respond. I don’t know what to say. I am terrified. I am so angry I cannot look at him.
When he leaves, he always leaves the door open, and I get up to close it behind him. I push the food around on my plate, trying to encourage myself to eat, but I have very little appetite.
I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like I am losing myself in all of this. I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I want to go home. I want to erase everything that has happened—just forget it all and go back to my peaceful, wonderful life.
Chapter 12 - Kiril
I knock on Jennifer’s bedroom door, annoyed that she has been keeping it closed lately.
I want to talk to her. Something incredible has happened and we should be celebrating it. She is distraught over finding out that she is pregnant. When the doctor announced it, I was, at first, completely shocked, but within seconds I was filled with happiness and excitement. Jennifer is going to be having my baby and that means that she will be in my life forever.
We’ve relined in the most intimate way now that she is carrying my child. My blood.
But now she is shutting me out again and I am getting more and more frustrated over it. I am trying to be patient. I am trying to give her space to process what is happening. I know she has been through so much and this must just add to everything else. Trauma like she experienced doesn’t just fade. Yes, the bruises fade and the body heals, but the heart and mind take much longer, and I am being forgiving of the way she is treating me because of that.
But there are other things running through my thoughts and causing me to worry.
Even before I found out I was going to be the father of her child, I had concerns growing.
She has been acting strangely.
We spent that amazing night together, and we had been talking, and sharing stories, and getting to know each other—then suddenly it was like a switch flipped. She started to push me away again. The bottom line is that I feel as though she is hiding something from me. She stalks around the house alone, thinking that I cannot see her. I am always watching her.
She seems to be looking for something, but honestly, she might just be keeping busy, trying to ease boredom, so I don’t want to accuse of her nothing.
Although, my paranoia is getting worse by the day, especially after seeing her reaction to finding out she is pregnant. I don’t understand it. It seems so extreme. Why is the idea of having a baby with me so terrible? It makes me worry. My biggest stress is that this will cause her to try and run away. I cannot, under any circumstances, lose her. I knew that before she was pregnant, but now—there’s not a fucking chance I am losing her.
I check on her constantly, expecting to open her bedroom door and find the space empty. I knock sometimes and all I hear is silence. It causes anxiety. I keep bringing her food because, apart from wanting her to stay healthy and keep the baby healthy, I need an excuse to open her bedroom door. I can see she is annoyed with my intrusions, but it is always a relief to find her still there.
I can’t live like this. The more I try and see her and spend time with her the worse it seems to get. From her perspective, I know she feels suffocated by me, but I can’t stop pushing.
I have to stop, though. I have to give her the space she needs to process this.
Paval called me the other day to tell me that our enemies have been quiet over the past two weeks. Suspiciously quiet. As though they know something we don’t know. This does not sit well with any of us.
I am carrying on as usual, trying not to jump to conclusions, but I have my men investigating things. Perhaps we can find out something to explain what is happening.
Jennifer has been through so much. I have to give her the benefit of the doubt. I have to assume that this has nothing to do with her, despite the nagging voice in the back of my mind.
