Chapter 159
Elena’s POV:
Pain. It was the first thing I registered, a dull, throbbing ache around my abdomen. It felt both distant and overwhelming. Mixed with it was a suffocating grogginess, a thick, cottony haze that clung to the edges of my consciousness, making every thought sluggish and distant.
A sense of foreboding, a chilling fear, was coiled tight in my mind. Reminding me that something was wrong, something fundamental. I tried to focus, to pull myself from the depths of unconsciousness, but the effort was immense.
Slowly, painstakingly, I blinked my eyes open. The world came into focus as a sterile, white blur. The air smelled of antiseptic and alcohol, a scent i knew all too well, a smell that had haunted my childhood.
Oh.
Right. I was in the hospital. The memories flooded back in a disorienting, rapid–fire sequence. The terrifying fall. Dmitri. Malakai, Nikolai, Sergei. The cold, metallic feel of the gurney as they rushed me through the halls. The doctors and nurses with their grim, urgent faces. The piercing, desperate cries that had ripped from my throat because of the pain.
My baby.
The last thing I remembered was the doctor leaning over me, telling me an emergency C–section would need to be done. I had been terrified, my mind so scattered with pain and fear that I couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond the one that mattered most.
“My baby… please…” I hadn’t been able to finish the sentence. My voice, ragged and strained, but he had nodded, his eyes holding a promise.
“Please be assured. We will try our utmost for you and your baby.”
The words had been a thin thread of hope. I remembered the prick of the needle, the cold rush of the epidural spreading through my body, and then the blessed darkness of unconsciousness. The world had gone silent after that, and I had simply fallen into the void.
The grogginess wouldn’t go away, and I knew it must be the lingering effects of the anesthesia. My body felt like a lead weight, heavy and unresponsive. The sheets were crisp and cool against my skin, the blankets tucked around me. I tried to move my fingers, and they responded slowly. I turned my head on the pillow, my neck stiff and sore, and opened my mouth to speak. Only a raspy, dry sound came out.
“T–the baby?” I managed to choke out the words.
“Malishka.”
That one word. It cut through the haze like a lightning bolt, a familiar and sacred endearment that made my heart beat a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I turned my head towards the door, and a figure was there, moving into the room with long strides.
I swallowed, my throat tight, as I took in his form. My eyes, still bleary, ran over him. He was shirtless. His skin was exposed, but that wasn’t what had caught my attention. It was the white of the bandages. They were wrapped tightly around his upper torso and shoulders. He had a bandage on his shoulder, a small, circular one, and a large, thick one around his chest.
“You….” My voice was barely a whisper. I didn’t know what to say. He looked raw, unkempt, and utterly vulnerable in a way I had never seen him before. Which was strange considering how many times I had seen him vulnerable at this point. His dark hair was a disheveled mess, falling over his forehead, and a two day’s worth of stubble covered his jaw.
He moved with big strides, his eyes fixed on mine/As he got closer, I saw it. The dark, moist sheen in his eyes, the subtle redness rimming them. He bent down, his face hovering just inches from mine, and my heart jumped. He reached out, his hand–warm and calloused–gently grasping mine. He brought it to his lips, kissing the top of my hand with a feather–light touch, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through me.
“Don’t look so worried. I’m perfectly fine.” He said as though reading my thoughts.
I nodded…or at least I think I did then questioned again. “The baby?” The sight of his injuries, the emotion on his face, made me realize just how much had transpired in my absence. My throat felt tight, a lump forming in it, as I waited for his answer.
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Chapter 159
He smiled softly, a weary curve of his lips that made the moisture in his eyes more noticeable. He looked so tired, yet there was a deep, profound joy radiating from him. “Our son is out of danger,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s premature, so he’s in the NICU…”
I pursed my lips, the joy I felt at hearing my baby was safe immediately replaced by a biting wave of guilt. It churned in my gut. I knew. I knew how difficult it was for a baby born prematurely. I had read about it, seen the stories of struggle and suffering. I knew how dangerous it could be.
I had been so reckless, so selfishly consumed by my own need for independence and control that I had endangered my own child. Our baby was probably in pain, and unnecessary danger, because of my recklessness.
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My eyes welled up with tears, hot and stinging, and I felt the wetness spill down the side of my face. He probably had to be fed through tubes, his body too small and weak to do it on its own. Could he breathe on his own?
It was all my fault. A sob threatened to break free from my lips, but I swallowed it back, my chest constricting with the force of my sorrow.
Nikolai bent down, his thumb gently rubbing the side of my face, catching the tears. His touch was so tender, so full of concern, and it only made me feel more unworthy of it.
“What’s wrong?” He whispered, his brow furrowed in a deep, worried frown. He moved forward, his hand pressing the call button below my bed. “Does it hurt? Wait, I’ll call the nurse.”
I shook my head, my tears flowing more freely now. “No… I… I’m just so sorry.” I managed to say.
He looked baffled, his frown deepening. “For what, Malishka?” he asked, as if the concept of me needing to apologize was absurd.
“It’s all my fault. I had probably been way too in over my head, going against someone like him while being pregnant. I endangered my child’s life and also yours. I’d been so selfish—”
I stiffened as Nikolai moved, his head bending, and his lips pressing over mine. It was a soft, gentle kiss, not a dominant or demanding one. It was a silent command to stop, to cease the self–recrimination.
The room felt silent as my ears buzzed, his lips a warm, soft pressure that soothed the frantic beat of my heart. How long had it been? Since we kissed? It felt like a lifetime ago. He pulled back, but only just, his forehead resting against mine, his breath a gentle puff against my skin.
“It’s not your fault,” he whispered, his voice low and firm, a command I had no choice but to obey. “If anything, you were brave. And yes, even if hiding this from me made me upset… I understand your reasoning. I deserved it after what I did to you… not to mention, I understand the way you were
thinking.”
I pulled my head back just enough to look at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. “You do?” I asked, my heart jumping. His lips tilted up into a small, wry
smile.
“I’m guessing you didn’t want me to think that you were baby trapping me, right?” He said, hitting the nail right on the spot. A wave of astonishment washed over me. He understood. Once again, I was baffled at how a person could understand someone this well, without ever needing to speak the words aloud. It was a terrifying and beautiful thing, this silent, profound connection.
“Malishka…” His voice was a low, melodic rumble, his eyes locked on mine, an ocean of regret and sincerity swirling in their depths. He didn’t look away. He never had, not since he had entered the room. It was as if he was trying to pour his entire soul into me through his gaze. “I’m really sorry for what I did. Can you please… forgive me? Give me another chance?”
Tbit my lips, a thousand thoughts swirling through my mind.
I felt kind of stupid now. My anger, which had felt so righteous and powerful, now felt small and insignificant in the face of everything that had happened. Yes, I had been angry. I had felt betrayed, manipulated, and used. Not because of the contract of course, but because it had felt like our relationship at that time had gone beyond just a husband and wife on paper. But then that happened and all his gestures of love started seeming dubious and fake.
Even so….would it be so wrong for me to forgive him? Yes mom had taught me self respect but she’d also taught me empathy and forgiveness.
Which made me understand his reasons. A childhood of abuse, of being forced to be an adult, of being taught that love was a weakness. He had done what he did as a form of revenge against Sergei, but he’d realized that it wasn’t worth hurting me over. He’d had that realization before Sergei could find me. Only that he’d underestimated the Morozov head. And like dominos the pieces fell one after another. Leading us to this point,
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He’d admitted his mistake. He had not only said the words, but he had proven it with his actions. I had just been so hurt about his fie, believing him to be like Dmitri–when in hindsight they were worlds apart from each other–that I had completely overlooked everything else he’d done for me.
At this point, he’d taken a damn bullet for me. He’d tried to protect me. He killed his own brother for me. He had chosen me. Over his blood.
How could I not forgive him? How could I not love him?
I nodded, the single, simple gesture a wave of relief washing over both of us. “I’m sorry too. About hiding this. Even if I was upset… it wasn’t right.” I said. The words tasted like freedom, like a clean slate. Like a burden off my shoulder.
He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Let’s forget about the past now….we have more things to look forward to in the future.”
He said with a smile. It wasn’t the forced, sad smile I had seen from him so often recently. It was a genuine, almost beaming expression, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder, off his heart. It was a look of pure, unadulterated relief and joy. He reached out and gently combed a loose strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek for a moment before he moved away.
That’s when the nurse entered. She smiled politely, not seeming to notice the tense, emotional moment she had just walked in on. She began checking my vitals, her movements practiced and efficient. Meanwhile, Nikolai got up to put on a black turtleneck a man had brought him. The fabric stretched taut over his chest, his muscular frame clearly visible despite the thick material, and it did a good job of hiding his bandaged shoulder.
“How long… will he have to stay in the NICU?” I asked the nurse, my voice still a bit hoarse. The question was a low whisper.
She smiled gently, her eyes full of sympathy. “He’s very premature, unfortunately. It will take at least two to three months. At least until he is able to function without support, eating and sucking properly. But his lungs are developed and he is breathing without support so things aren’t as dire. Rest assured, we will try our very best.”
A new pang of sadness, a dull, aching sorrow, spread through my chest. The news was both a comfort and a deep, profound sadness. He was safe, but he was also so fragile. I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to compose myself.
“Can I see him?” I asked.
The nurse smiled as she nodded. “I’ll ask the doctor about it, don’t worry.” She said, her voice reassuring. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze before she
turned and left.
Right then Nikolai entered, typing something on a phone. Which seemed to be new, not the model he used before. He walked to the side of the bed, his smile back, as he put away the phone. “So how long will we keep calling the baby ‘him‘?” he asked.
I couldn’t help the tilt of rny lips, a small, genuine smile blooming on my face for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. “Any ideas?” I questioned back.
“I just found out a couple of hours ago that I was going to be a father, Malishka. How would I have any ideas?” He said, quirking a brow at me.
I scoffed. “You’ve never in your thirty years of living imagined having kids and naming them something?” I asked incredulously, a sense of wonder
washing over me.
And that’s when his eyes suddenly softened. The playfulness vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated sincerity.
“Honestly, Malishka? I did once,” he began, his voice low. “When we were getting serious, and I thought about just destroying the contract… and making
your…
