Page 61 of The Bratva Bosses' Surrogate

Chapter 24

Sofia

I never pictured my farewell would be in a hospital room, drenched in sweat, squeezing the life out of Maxym and Viktor’s hands as I bring our daughter into the world. The irony isn’t lost on me. Saying goodbye while welcoming the most significant hello of my life.

“Damn, Sofia, you’ve got a grip,” Viktor jokes, trying to lighten the mood, his usual humor a welcome distraction from the pain.

“I’ll show you grip,” I manage to gasp out between contractions, not sure if I want to laugh or cry or maybe just punch him – affectionately, of course.

Maxym, ever the stoic one, keeps his eyes locked on mine, his voice a steady anchor. “You’re doing great, ???????. Just a bit more.”

And Ivan, bless him, stands at the foot of the bed, looking a tad paler than usual. “I’ve seen men shot and not look as fierce as you, Sofia.”

“Funny,” I snap back, the contraction peaking, “I feel about ready to shoot someone right now.”

Labor is nothing like I imagined. It’s longer, harder, a marathon that tests every ounce of strength I didn’t know I had. Each contraction is a wave, overwhelming and relentless, and I ride them as best as I can, clinging to Maxym and Viktor’s hands like they’re my lifelines.

The room is a blur of activity, nurses coming and going, the steady beep of the monitor tracking our daughter’s heartbeat, a constant reminder of what all this pain is for. Maxym’s faceis a mask of concern, his encouragements whispered between contractions, each word a balm even as my body screams for relief.

Viktor tries to make me laugh, his attempts at humor are a welcome distraction, but there’s a tightness around his eyes that wasn’t there before. He’s scared, we all are, the gravity of the situation pressing down on us with each passing minute.

Ivan, ever the calm in the storm, stands a bit apart, giving me space yet offering his strength in the quiet solidity of his presence. “You’re doing amazing, Sofia,” he says, and I believe him, even as I feel like I’m breaking apart.

The doctor’s voice is steady, a guide through the tempest. “You’re almost there, Sofia. Just a few more pushes.” But ‘almost’ stretches, time warping in the crucible of labor, and I find myself wondering if I can do this, if I’m strong enough to see it through.

Another contraction hits, a tidal wave of pain, and I bear down with everything I have, a primal, guttural scream tearing from my throat. Maxym’s grip on my hand tightens, his other hand brushing the hair from my forehead, a silent vow of support.

“You can do this, Sofia. She’s almost here,” he murmurs, and his voice is what I cling to as I gather my strength, pushing past the pain, reaching for the promise of the end of this journey and the start of a new one.

And then, suddenly, there’s release, the pressure giving way, and the room is filled with the sound of a new cry, clear and strong. It cuts through the fog of pain, a beacon of hope, a herald of a new life.

As our daughter is placed in my arms, all the pain fades into insignificance against the weight of this tiny, perfect humanwe’ve created. She’s here, she’s real, and she’s ours. The journey to bring her into the world was nothing I could have prepared for, but as I look into her eyes for the first time, I know it was worth every moment.

After the intensity of birth and the first magical moments with our daughter, the room settles into a new rhythm, filled with soft coos and the quiet sounds of a family in awe. As Maxym carefully takes our baby girl into his arms, his face softens in a way I’ve seldom seen, a tender giant cradling the most precious treasure.

I’m watching them, a smile playing on my lips, when Viktor leans in, his voice a playful whisper. “Bet she inherits your stubbornness. We’re in for a treat.”

I chuckle, despite the tiredness weighing on my limbs. “And your charm, Viktor? God help us all.”

Ivan joins in, a smirk visible beneath his usually stoic exterior. “At least she’ll have my tactical sense. Might stand a chance then.”

The banter is light, a familiar comfort, but as I watch Maxym with our daughter, a sudden swell of emotion tightens my chest. Tears prick at my eyes, unbidden and unexpected, spilling over as a sob catches in my throat.

The room falls silent, the lightness replaced by concern. “Sofia? What’s wrong?”

I try to speak, but the words are tangled in a web of love and fear. Finally, I manage to whisper through the tears, “I don’t want to say goodbye to her.”

It’s the truth laid bare, the heart of my fear since the moment I knew of her existence. The agreement that onceseemed so clear, now feels like an insurmountable barrier, a looming farewell I’m not ready to face.

Maxym’s expression shifts, a storm of emotions passing over his face before he settles beside me, our daughter between us. “Sofia, you don’t have to say goodbye. We... I don’t want you to leave. We’re a family.”

Viktor steps closer, his usual humor replaced by sincerity. “He’s right. We’ve been idiots if we thought we could just let you walk away.”

Ivan, silent until now, nods in agreement. “We need you. Both of you. The agreement be damned.”

Their words, so full of conviction and desire for a future together, pierce the fog of my fears. I look from one to the other, seeing the truth in their eyes, feeling it in the weight of our daughter in my arms.

“Really?” The word is a breath, a hope fluttering in my chest.

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