Page 63 of Forced Pregnant Bride

Since months ago, after I’d given her the rules about when to call me, Serena has never called when I was at work. If the call was urgent, she sent a message through the men at the house.

Seeing her call now meant it was more than urgent, and I tried not to think about the worst possible scenarios that could be happening. Answering, I placed the call to my ear.

“Pchelka.”

“Boss, Serena is in the hospital. She’s in labor.”

It wasn’t mylittle beebut Klavdia on the phone, and my wife was in the hospital,in fucking labor.I was on my feet in seconds.

The men followed me, springing to their feet like soldiers ready for war. “Is there a problem?” Arlo was closely eyeing me.

“No.”

What I meant to say was yes. Yes, there was a problem. I was about to become a fucking father, and I didn’t know how to react or how to fucking move from behind my desk and go to my wife, who needed me.

“No? Doesn’t look like a no to me.” It was Rafa’s turn to look concerned. “Guns or knives?”

“More like flowers and fruits and maybe some fucking diapers? I don’t know. But no fucking guns or knives.”

“Huh?”

They were silent for a while, eyes blinking and brows twitching while trying to figure it out. Rafayel was the first person to fix the puzzle, and he reacted with a wide grin and a hard slap across my shoulder. “Fuck! I’m going to be a fucking uncle, aren’t I?”

Arlo was smiling so hard that his cheeks had to hurt. “The baby’s coming?”

“Yes. Shit. I feel so fucking clueless right now.” I grabbed my keys off the desk, but my brother snatched the holder before I could blink. I caught him smiling as hard as Arlo.

“Hell if I’m letting you drive shit in this state. Don’t worry, we’re here. The first step is to be there beside your beautiful wife while she gives birth to my nephew or niece. Man, you’re going to be a father.”

In thirty-nine years of my life, I couldn’t remember the last time I completely lost my shit.

Today, I got to break that record.

Chapter 25 – Serena

Everything around me was a blur, from white coats, sterile lights, and the endless noise of machines beeping. The pain searing through my body was sharp, unbearable, and consuming. My body felt like it was splitting apart, and I clung to the edge of reason when the door swung open.

He strode in,my husband.

My heart soared, and his presence immediately grounded me, like a storm breaking to reveal the calm. His dark eyes met mine, and for a moment, the pain dulled, replaced by relief so overwhelming that tears rose to my eyes.

Some of the nurses tried to coax him to stay outside, but one hard look from him made them spring apart and give way for him to pass through.

Smiling up at him, I whispered, “You’re here.”

Marching past Doctor Maria, he didn’t say anything at first, just moved to my side. His expression was hard, but he was careful as he took my hand. His fingers were rough and calloused, but he held me tightly, his grip unyielding, like he was anchoring me to the world.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I don’t fucking know what to do. I just know I need to be by your side.”

“And I appreciate—” Another contraction hit, and I cried out, squeezing his hand so tightly that I was sure it must have hurt him. But Timur didn’t flinch. He stayed rooted there, and his jaw clenched as if he were willing himself to take on some of my pain.

“You’re strong, my little bee, my beautiful queen. You can fucking do this,” he whispered into my ear. His voice was softer now, a quiet strength beneath the words. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

I tried to follow his instructions, focusing on his face—the set of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes. For once, he was not the unyielding force I’d come to expect. There was something else there, something tender that I didn’t see often.

The nurses moved around us, giving instructions I could barely process. But Timur listened, nodding at them before turning back to me. He brushed damp strands of hair away from my face with a gentleness that made my chest ache, even through the pain.

He kissed my lips. “You’ve got this.”

---