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Rare, but happens. Like a damn fairy tale.
Only this isn’t a story.
This is real life, and it’s screwing with me in ways I can’t even begin to understand.
“Mr. Ivankov, this is a miracle,” she says.
Miracle?
“It’s a mistake,” I hear myself say.
The doctor is not smiling anymore, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looks at me. “Mr. Ivankov, I assure you the tests are accurate. Perhaps this is unexpected, but it’s certainly not a mistake.”
Unexpected? That’s a fucking understatement.
I shake my head, trying to clear it.
This is not happening. But it is.
And there’s no going back. Damn it all to hell.
Sophia’s pregnant.
A father. Me, Luka Ivankov, about to become a father.
A knock on the door interrupts my spiraling thoughts. A nurse pops her head in, her face as cheerful as the doctor’s. “Mr. Ivankov, your wife is awake now.”
My wife.
My heart does a strange thing, a beat too hard, too fast. Sophia’s pale face appears in my mind, the way she collapsed suddenly, her body limp. We head toward her room, the pit in my stomach growing with every step.
Pull yourself together!
I halt outside her door, hearing her voice even before I step in.
“But…I can’t be pregnant. I just can’t.”
I pause, my hand frozen on the door handle, every muscle in my body tight.
She knows. And she doesn’t believe it, just like me.
Pushing the door open, I step inside. Her eyes find mine immediately, wide and filled with uncertainty, confusion. I can’t help but notice how vulnerable she looks lying there, the hospital gown swallowing her frame.
“Luka,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“Seems we’re in for a surprise,” I start, trying to mask the chaos in my mind with a casual tone.
She looks at me, her eyes narrowing, “A surprise? Is that what you’re calling it?” She shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “It’s not possible. You know it’s not possible. After the accident, they told me I couldn’t—”
“I know what they told you,” I cut her off, anger and frustration building in me. “But it’s happened. It’s a damn miracle or something. You’re pregnant, and we have to deal with it.”
Her eyes flash, anger replacing the vulnerability. “Deal with it? Deal with it how, Luka? How do you expect me to deal with this?”
I grasp at the anger because it’s easier than dealing with the fear.
A baby in my world?
Anger, violence, and hate. Those are things I can fight, things I can challenge. But the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty in her voice; those are things I can’t push aside.
