Page 39 of Pregnant By the Bratva

“Sarah… I need to see you,” her voice continues, laced with something almost desperate. “I miss you. I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to make things right. Please, let’s meet. I just want to talk.”

I stare at the phone, my breath catching in my throat as the message ends. For a moment, I can’t move, can’t think. The sound of her voice, the words she’s saying, feel like a knife twisting in an old wound that never quite healed. She left us. She left me when I needed her most, when I was just a child forced to grow up too fast. And now she wants to talk? Now she misses me?

I glance down at my daughter, who is still nestled against me, completely unaware of the turmoil raging inside me. I want to protect her from all of this, from the pain of the past that I’ve tried so hard to bury. But here it is, resurfacing just when I thought I could move on.

A part of me wants to delete the message, to pretend I never heard it. Another part—a deeper, more wounded part—wants answers. Why now? What does she want? Is she really trying to make amends, or is this just another way for her to hurt me?

I don’t know what to do, and the uncertainty gnaws at me. I could tell Ivan, but what would he say? Would he understand, or would he see it as just another complication in an already complicated life?

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. I can’t afford to be weak, not now. I have to be strong for my daughter, for the life I’m trying to build for us.

With trembling fingers, I set the phone down on the nightstand, my mind racing. I don’t know what the right decision is, but I know I need to think carefully. My past is something I’ve tried to leave behind, but maybe it’s not so easy to outrun.

***

The old house is exactly as I remember it—a place frozen in time, steeped in memories I’ve tried so hard to forget. The creaking floorboards, the peeling wallpaper, the faint scent of dust and neglect hanging in the air—it all rushes back to me the moment I step inside. My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of anxiety and dread twisting in my gut. I haven’t been here in years, not since everything fell apart. And now, as I stand in the doorway, the weight of the past feels suffocating.

My mother is there, standing in the dimly lit living room, her face etched with lines of worry and regret. The moment she sees me, her eyes well with tears, and she takes a shaky stepforward, her arms outstretched. “Sarah,” she breathes, her voice cracking with emotion. “Oh, Sarah, my baby….”

She moves to hug me, but I step back, holding up a hand to stop her. The distance between us feels like a chasm, and I can’t bring myself to close it. “Don’t,” I say, my voice sharp and cold. “Don’t pretend like everything is okay.”

Her face crumples, and she lowers her arms, looking more fragile than I’ve ever seen her. “I did what I had to do, Sarah,” she says, her voice trembling. “I was helpless. I didn’t have any money, no way to feed you and Luke. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“So you just left us?” I snap, the anger bubbling up inside me. It’s been years, but the pain is still raw, still as fresh as the day she walked out and never looked back. “You abandoned us, Mom! You left me to take care of Luke, to figure out how to survive on my own. How could you do that?”

Tears spill down her cheeks, but they do nothing to soften my heart. “I was desperate, Sarah,” she pleads, her voice breaking. “I didn’t have a choice. I thought you’d be better off without me.”

I shake my head, disgusted by her excuses. Now that I’m a mother myself, I can’t even begin to understand how she could have made that choice. The very thought of leaving my daughter, of abandoning her to face the world alone, is unthinkable. “Better off without you?” I echo, my voice rising with disbelief. “Do you know what it was like, trying to take care of Luke? Do you know what it felt like, knowing that you were out there somewhere, but you didn’t care enough to come back?”

She flinches at my words, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of her guilt is too much to bear. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I was just so lost. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I didn’t know how to do anything.”

“What about Luke?” I demand, my voice cold. “Did you think about him at all? Did you think about how he needed you when he got sick? When he needed a liver transplant and we couldn’t afford it, did you think about him then?”

She doesn’t answer, her silence speaking volumes. I can see the shame in her eyes, the regret that she can’t seem to put into words. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. Then I notice something on the table—a check, casually lying there as if it’s nothing, but the sight of it sends a jolt of suspicion through me.

“What’s this?” I ask, my tone sharp as I step closer to the table, my eyes narrowing at the check. It’s made out for a significant amount of money, far more than I would ever have expected her to have.

My mother hesitates, glancing nervously between me and the check. “Sarah, please, just forgive me for this,” she says, her voice shaking.

She doesn’t answer directly, and instead, she moves toward the door, her movements hurried and desperate. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I really am. I can’t stay. I have to go.”

Before I can process what’s happening, she grabs the check and slips out of the house, leaving me standing there, stunned. My heart sinks as the realization dawns on me. She hasn’t changed. She came here not because she wanted to make amends, but because she was paid to do so.

The sound of footsteps behind me pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn around to see Leo stepping out from the shadows, his expression unreadable. The sight of him sends a wave of nausea through me, and I take a step back, the pieces of this twisted puzzle falling into place.

“You paid her,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, the horror of it all crashing down on me. “You paid her to bring me here.”

Leo’s eyes darken, and he takes a step closer, his presence suddenly menacing. “I had to see you, Sarah. It’s the only way I could get you alone.”

My chest tightens with panic, and I try to move toward the door, but it’s locked. I’m trapped. “Let me go, Leo,” I say, my voice trembling as I back away from him. “This isn’t going to work. We have no future. I don’t love you anymore.”

His face twists with anger, and in a flash, he closes the distance between us, grabbing my arm and pulling me close. His grip is tight, almost painful, and his eyes bore into mine with an intensity that frightens me. “I don’t care,” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ll take you one way or another, Sarah. If I can’t have you, no one else will.”

Panic surges through me, and I struggle against his hold, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. “Leo, please, don’t do this,” I plead, my voice shaking as I try to pull away. “Let me go. You don’t want to do this.”

His grip tightens, and his expression becomes desperate, almost crazed. “I love you, Sarah,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’ve always loved you. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand that we’re meant to be together?”

Tears sting my eyes as I realize just how far gone he is, how dangerous this situation has become. My mind races, searching for a way out, for something—anything—that can help me escape. The door is locked, and I’m trapped in here with a man who has nothing left to lose.

---