Niko's brow furrows slightly as if it never occurred to him I’d do anything other than agree. Since it involves the health of our baby, I won’t.
This time.
He opens his mouth as if to say something, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he busies himself with his coffee as the silence stretches between us.
For once, I find I don't mind the quiet. It's peaceful, in its own way. I'm content to enjoy my breakfast, occasionally rubbing my growing belly when I feel a kick.
Too many times I’ve tried to engage Niko in conversation just to get a grunt or a frown of irritation.
"How are you feeling?" Niko finally asks, breaking the silence himself, his tone carefully neutral.
"I'm well," I reply honestly. "The baby's been quite active this morning."
His eyes flick to my hand on my stomach, a flash of something passing over his face. I try to decipher it… curiosity? longing? Before I can decide, he schools his expression back to neutrality and I’m almost disappointed. For a moment there I thought…
"Good," he says curtly, returning his attention to his coffee.
I don’t dwell on those fleeting thoughts. It serves no purpose. Instead, I continue eating, savoring the sweet burst of berries on my tongue.
The silence stretches on, but I refuse to fill it with nervous chatter as I might have done before. If Niko wants to talk, he can initiate the conversation.
After a few minutes, he clears his throat. "I have some business to attend to this morning. I'll escort you to Dr. Zelensky, but then I'll need to leave."
I nod, meeting his gaze steadily, not showing the pang I feel, that he can’t be bothered to stay and make certain his son is okay after my ordeal, and choose, instead, to see it as progress. A sign that he trusts me. "That's fine."
His brow furrows slightly, as if he's not quite sure what to make of my response. "Are you certain? I can have one of the guards…”
"I'm sure," I interrupt gently. "I know my way around the compound, Niko. It’s not a problem."
And I certainly won’t beg him for time he doesn’t want to freely give. For now, I’m happy to be here so I can regain my equilibrium, simply because it’s easiest, but that doesn’t mean I won’t consider my options.
He opens his mouth as if to argue, then closes it again. "Very well," he says finally, his tone clipped. “We also need to go over what happened to lead you to that swamp. We’ll talk later.” He says it like he’s daring me to argue.
I sigh internally. Niko and I do need to talk… about more than just my abductors, and whatever that information might mean to him.
I know facing the truth with Niko can’t be avoided forever, even if it means the end I once dreaded. But it doesn’t hold the fear it once did since I’ve already lived through that scenario. I still don’t know why Niko came after me, or how he found me, but I’m sure I’ll find out in good time.
However, my brush with death and the knowledge I am wholly responsible for another life has shifted something fundamental inside me. I will not shrink from it. When the time comes to have that conversation, I’ll speak my piece honestly and without artifice. If I am to stay, things need to change. I won’t raise my child in a house devoid of love, and I’ll leave willingly before I allow that to happen. If this compound, with all its golden fixtures and silent staff, becomes a memory, I really won’t miss it.
The lesson these last few days have taught me is that the future is a shifting, unpredictable thing. Nothing is guaranteed, not even the next hour, and it’s pointless to make offerings to a tomorrow that may never arrive. Better to root myself in this moment and enjoy it while I can.
Without anything that might bring me down.
I finish my breakfast at my own pace, refusing to be rushed and ignoring the way Niko drums his fingers on the armrest, impatient for his day to begin. I almost laugh at how different I feel - less like an accessory and more like the woman I want my son to know.
When Maria returns to clear the dishes, she watches me for a moment, her dark eyes quietly measuring, as if she’s waiting for me to slip back into the role of silent, anxious wife. I give her a calm nod of thanks, and for a split second, she almost smiles. The staff always see more than people realize.
We could certainly do with more smiling around here, and I’m determined my child will have that. I refuse to bring him up in the aura of sterile coldness usually surrounding this place.
No matter what I feel for Niko, and despite how hard he is to love, God knows, I still do, I have a different priority now.
The man in question is all business as he delivers me to the exam room with the briskness of someone who has no vested interest.
Yeah, that conversation is coming sooner, rather than later.
The space is more hospital than home. White walls, a row of glinting instruments, the faint hum of machinery. No expense spared.
I slide onto the papered table and rest my hands on my lap, as Dr. Zelensky’s nurse, a starchy woman named Svetlana who always smells faintly of disinfectant and cigarettes, enters the room with the brisk competence of someone who has seen it all and never bats an eyelid.
