Page 60 of Forced Pregnant Bride

I added the romper set to my cart anyway, along with a soft gray blanket with stars printed on it. Thinking about how fragile this all felt—the anticipation, the hope, the love that had already filled me so completely—my heart ached a little.

I shifted on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position, but comfort was a distant memory at this point. My back ached, my feet were swollen, and my ribs felt like they were under siege. Still, none of it mattered, not really. Every ache andpain was just a reminder that I was carrying the most important thing in the world.

I set my phone down and leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater. I let my thoughts drift, imagining what life would be like soon—tiny cries in the middle of the night, little hands gripping my finger, a whole new world that I couldn’t wait to meet.

I smiled, resting both hands on my belly. “I can’t wait to meet you, either,” I whispered.

Then sharp pain gripped me so suddenly that I gasped, clutching at my stomach as though holding it would somehow stop the ache.

It didn’t.

It tore through me again, hot and relentless, and my knees grew weak. Dropping my phone, I gripped the couch, my breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

This wasn’t normal.

My heart pounded, and Doctor Maria’s voice resurfaced somewhere at the back of my head. It hit me. I was not just uncomfortable, or tired, or anything else I’ve been dismissing these past few weeks. This was different.

Another wave of pain shot through me, and I let out a low, involuntary cry.

“Serena?” Klavdia’s voice cut through the haze.

Klavdia, thank goodness.

Breathing rapidly, I managed to call out. “Klavdia? I’m…phew…in here!”

She appeared in the living room, her usual stern expression shifting to something close to concern when she saw me hunched over, gripping the couch like it was the only thing keeping me sane.

“I think—” My words were cut off by another stab of pain, and I gasped again. Tears were quickly forming, and all I could think about was my baby. “I think something’s wrong.”

She crossed the room in two quick strides, her no-nonsense demeanor kicking in as she dropped to her haunches. Her eyes dropped to my belly and then back to my face.

“Wrong?” she said sharply, her tone almost scolding. “Serena. This is labor.”

Labor.

Love.

The labor of my love for both my child and its father.

The word felt instantly unreal, like it didn’t belong to me, to this moment. But then another contraction hit, and the truth of it slammed into me like a freight train.

“I-I’m not ready,” I stammered, panic bubbling up in my chest. My hands shook as I clung to her arm, desperate for some kind of anchor. “It’s too soon. It’s not supposed to happen yet. Today is….”

Klavdia’s grip tightened, grounding me in a way that was both comforting and infuriating. “Listen to me: Babies don’t care about your schedule. We don’t have time for you to panic.”

I groaned as another contraction tore through me. Tears rolled down my cheeks, blurring my vision, but I blinked them away.

“What do we do?” I asked, ignoring the tremble in my voice. “Klavdia, what if something goes wrong? Timur isn’t here—”

She cut me off with a sharp look. “Stop that nonsense. You’re strong. You can do this. And I’ll make sure everything’s ready before he gets to the hospital.”

Her calm was maddening, but it was also what I needed.

Nodding, I swallowed hard and focused on breathing through the pain. Klavdia moved with practiced efficiency,barking orders at someone I could barely see as she grabbed my phone and journal.

As another contraction built, I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the couch cushions like they were my lifeline. The pain was overwhelming, but somewhere beneath it was a flicker of something else—a mixture of fear and hope and the strange, surreal knowledge that this was it.

The moment I’d spent the last eight months preparing for.

---