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Luka
A few hours before
I’M STANDING with Patrick, but my eyes betray me, drifting over to Sophia. Damn it all to hell, she looks off. Pale.
Is she okay?
“Sophia!” Yulia’s shriek makes me snap to attention. My head whips around. Yulia’s face is a twisted mask of terror as she clings to Sophia, but it’s no use. Sophia’s falling, her face pale, and her eyes shut.
I’m moving before I know it, muscles working on autopilot. My arms reach out, and I catch Sophia just before she hits the ground. Yulia’s crying like her heart’s breaking. Dimitri’s there, picking her up.
“It’s okay, Yulia,” I grunt, feeling something twist in my gut. “Sophia’s gonna be fine. I am going to take her to the doctor.”
Yulia nods without question, her blind faith in me setting the guilt surging again.
Dimitri’s reaching for Sophia, concern etched on his face. “Hand her over, Luka.”
“No.” The word is harsh, and it’s out before I can stop it. “I’ve got her.”
Dimitri’s eyes narrow, and there’s a moment where I think he’s going to argue. But he backs down.
“I’ll handle Yulia,” Dimitri says. I nod. I am glad he seems to always know what I’m thinking.
I glance at Yulia, and she’s watching us, her face still streaked with tears. I smile at her, giving her the only comfort I can. I’ve got Sophia, and I’ll take care of her.
Because I have to.
Because I want to.
Because for some fucked-up reason, she’s too important to me.
I haul ass out of the toy shop with Sophia’s limp body cradled in my arms.
Sitting In the doctor’s office now, that damn piece of paper clutched in my hand, everything grinds to a halt. Breathing, talking, thinking – it all stops. All I can see is that one word, printed so neatly, like it’s some sort of polite invitation: POSITIVE. It’s screaming at me, but all I can do is stare.
“Congratulations, Mr. Ivankov,” the doctor beams, her eyes crinkling at the corners as I catch a glimpse of her name tag – Dr. Sarah Johnson. She’s got those damn laugh lines like she’s spent a lifetime celebrating things like this.
“Your wife is pregnant. It’s wonderful news!”
I just stare at her, still unable to process it.
Wonderful news? Since when?
I’m in a fucking war right now!
“Your wife really needs to rest…and eat! Her blood sugar is low. That is why she fainted.”
She’s not my wife. That damn word stings. But it was easier this way; fewer questions, less judgment.
“Are you sure?” I finally manage to croak out. “I mean, this has to be a mistake. Sophia…she can’t be pregnant.”
“Yes,” she replies, nodding, her eyes wide with sincerity. “The HCG level confirms it. She’s with child, perhaps two weeks along.”
“But she can’t get pregnant,” I hear myself saying again, my voice breaking. “An accident damaged her fallopian tubes. She told me herself.”
Dr. Johnson’s smile fades, replaced by a look of concern. She leans forward, her eyes probing mine.
“It’s not uncommon for women to believe they can’t conceive after such trauma, especially if they were told so in the past,” she says, her voice soft, comforting in a way that only irritates me more. “But medical science advances. Perhaps the damage wasn’t as extensive as thought, or her body healed in a way that allowed for conception. It’s rare, but it happens.”
