Page 37 of Forced Pregnant Bride

Without speaking a word, I started to pull away, and her frown deepened.

“Where are you going?”

“Must you ask so many fucking questions?” I snapped. At that moment, that was not my intention. I’d wanted to do any other thing but yell at her. But seeing her eyes widen and watching her flinch pushed my reservations away. Sighing, I massaged my temple and took a step closer. “Serena….”

She held up a hand. “I don’t….” Suddenly, her eyelids dropped, and her words slurred. She stretched her arm behind her, tapping the air in search of support. “I don’t…I don’t feel well.”

Klavdia screamed when her legs gave way, and before her body hit the ground, I caught her in my arms.

Chapter 15 – Serena

When I opened my eyes, I found him leaning against the sterile white wall by the door. As if sensing me, his gaze met mine. Thankfully, he was in clothes now: a simple white t-shirt and jean pants that strangely fit him perfectly. There was a saying that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Well, I’d made peace for a long time with the fact that my husband had his eyes carved from stone. It was either that, or when you looked deep enough, no matter how hard you tried, there was no soul to see.

No emotions, nothing.

But now….

Now, it was different.

His brows twitched when his gaze touched my face. The coldness that had been there before I opened my eyes melted like wax over a flame, and the deepest frown formed on his lips. Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered with a reaction; what he offered was what I got. I wondered why, suddenly, he looked like he cared.

Or maybe I hit my head hard when I fell, and now, I was imagining things.

Glaring at him, I moved my eyes away from him and focused on the female doctor, who seemed more interested in sharing whatever news she had with my husband than with me. She looked young and pretty, with long chestnut-brown hair and gray eyes. Other than the fact that she appeared like a professional who knew what she was doing, I was woman enough to know when my fellow gender was interested in a man.

“How are you feeling?” he asked out of the blue, surprising me and causing the doctor to pause mid-sentence.

So, I hadn’t imagined it.

Keeping my eyes trained on the doctor’s white coat, I shrugged my shoulders to the best of my ability. “Good.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction, but for the first time in my life, I felt myself not caring.

I convinced myself that I had a good reason to.

After last night—God, last night—the more naïve part of me thought he and I shared a connection, as unlikely as that sounded. I’d woken up early enough, with every intention of starting a beautiful morning with breakfastandhaving him taste it. I wanted something special, something that could help me convey a message: I was willing to believe that he and I could lead a normal life together. Or maybe something close to normal.

He didn’t have to do anything else besides appreciate my kind gesture. For crying out loud, it was just soufflé pancakes. And yet, he reacted like I’d served him poison for breakfast.

So, no. I didn’t care that he frowned at my dry response. I didn’t care that he was suddenly putting on an act like an actual caring husband would. Was I hurt? Not that I’d ever admit it to him, but yes. What mattered most to me now was getting out of this hospital bed.

“Doctor.” When I got her attention, I pushed myself up on the bed, leaning against the steel bed frame. “What’s the report? I feel better now. When can I go home?”

Home.

Saying it aloud didn’t help that I couldn’t believe it myself. When I thought of home, Jayden came to mind; my sixth-grade children came to mind. Before all of this, before having my life spiral downward because of Timur Yezhov, was home to me.

The doctor dragged her feet as she faced me like she had trouble looking away from my husband.

I didn’t blame her. If I were in her shoes, I would’ve had a hard time looking away, too. But I wasn’t in her shoes; I was in mine, and mine offered more to see behind the curtains of that misleading handsomeness he possessed that could cause any reasonable woman to drop on her knees before him.

Timur was not the man of any woman’s dreams. If you let him, he’d gladly be your nightmare.

“Dehydration,” she said. “You should take lots of water. The lack of it made you feel faint, and that’s what rattled your balance earlier, as your, um,husbandexplained. Good thing he caught you in time.”

So, he’d caught me. Considering that he’d yelled at me just before my head grew dizzy and my legs felt like jelly, I thought he’d have watched in sick satisfaction while I dropped to the ground. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been such a question-asking nuisance to him anymore. Knowing he’d saved me was more interesting than picking up on her obvious hesitation in acknowledging Timur as my husband.

Mine.

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