She stands there for a heartbeat, seven months pregnant and glowing in the soft sunlight, her hand still protectively over our child. Then she nods, happy tears slipping down her cheeks as her voice breaks on the single word.
“Yes.”
The relief and joy that flood through me are immense. I rise to my feet, slipping the heirloom ring onto her finger. It'sa perfect fit, and I pull her gently into my arms. She comes willingly, her rounded belly pressing between us as she wraps her arms around my neck and laughs through her tears.
For the first time, I say the words out loud.
“I love you.”
The admission is perfect after holding it back through every layer of walls we have both built. Through the deal struck in fury. Through the late nights and public performances. Through the pregnancy that has rewritten every rule. In every moment, I reminded myself that her trust is pure and nothing more.
It is everything.
Anja pulls back just enough to look up at me, her eyes shining. “I love you too,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. “God, Alexey… I love you too.”
I kiss her then. A slow, deep, full of every unspoken promise I have carried for months. Her hands cup my face, fingers tracing the scar along my jaw with the same gentle curiosity she showed the first time she touched it. When we finally part, I rest my forehead against hers, one hand splayed protectively over her belly where our child kicks softly, as if approving.
The weight that is lifted in that moment is immense.
The nursery around us feels like the beginning of the life I have stopped allowing myself to fully imagine until her.
The pretend relationship is gone, replaced with this.
What we have now is real. Built on quiet nights and shared secrets. On the steady choice I make every day to be better for her. On the way, she has cracked open my carefullymanaged world and made me want more than just survival and strategy.
“You’ve changed everything,” I tell her quietly. “From the moment I pulled you out of that warehouse, you’ve been changing me. I don’t want to go back to the man I was before you. I want this…you, our child, this family, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” I brush a tear from her cheek with my thumb.
She smiles through fresh tears, her hand covering mine where it rests on her belly. “I've been so scared for so long. Scared that I would always be temporary. Scared that love would always come with conditions. But you… You keep choosing me. Even when it’s hard. Even when my past tries to pull me under. You make me believe I can do this—be a wife, be a mother, be part of this world without losing myself.”
We stand there together in the nursery, sunlight warming our skin, the faint sound of birds outside the windows. The proposal is simple. No grand spectacle. No audience. Just us, in the space we are building for our child, with the ring that symbolizes generations of Sokolov loyalty now resting on her finger.
I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring the way she melts into me. The pregnancy has made her even more beautiful, if possible. From the gentle curve of her body to the way her hands instinctively protect our child, and the quiet strength that has only grown stronger through every challenge.
When we finally draw apart, I rest my forehead against hers once more.
“There are still loose ends with Fadir,” I admit quietly. “But they don’t touch us anymore. Not really. He’s gone. And you… You are my future.”
“Our future,” she nods, eyes shining.
The weight that has pressed on my chest for months, including the careful distance I have maintained, the reminder that this is business, and the fear that I might become another man who takes advantage, finally lifts completely.
I proposed because I could no longer imagine my life without her.
Because I have fallen in love with the fiery, resilient woman who once called him a monster in the front seat of my SUV.
Anja leans into me, her head on my shoulder, one hand still resting over the baby. I hold her close, breathing in the moment, the nursery around us feeling more like home than any penthouse or compound wing ever had.
The war with Fadir is ending.
But our life together as husband and wife, and as parents, is only beginning.
Now I will spend every day proving to her that choosing me is not another.
It is the safest place she will ever know.
***
Later that evening, we sit together in the nursery, her head resting on my shoulder as our child kicks softly between us.
