Page 56 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

Our son.The words fill me with a sense of peace I haven’t felt in months.

As if on cue, Tyler stirs in his crib, letting out a small whimper. I pull away from Timur, rushing over to check on him. When I reach the crib, Tyler’s eyes flutter open, and he looks up at me, his fever clearly having broken.

“He’s okay,” I whisper, relief flooding through me.

Timur steps closer, looking down at Tyler with an intensity I’ve seen before, but now it feels different. It’s not the hard, ruthless Timur I’ve come to expect—it’s the father of my child. The man who just admitted he loves me.

I reach down to gently stroke Tyler’s cheek, and he lets out a soft coo, looking between me and Timur with wide eyes.

“He takes after you,” I say, smiling up at Timur.

Timur grunts, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Good. He’ll be strong.”

Tyler stirs again, his little hands reaching up toward me. I gently pick him up, cradling him against my chest. He’s warm, but not with the fever that had worried me earlier. Now, it’s the kind of warmth that soothes me, grounding me in this moment. I can feel his soft breath against my neck, and my heart swells with love for this tiny boy who means the world to me.

Behind me, I sense Timur’s presence, steady and protective. I can’t shake the change in him tonight, the way he’s shown me a side of himself I didn’t think was possible. It’s almost unnerving, seeing the softness in him. A part of me wonders if it’s temporary, but another part—deep down—hopes it’s real.

Timur steps closer, and I feel his hand settle on my lower back. The touch is surprisingly gentle, and I find myself leaning into it, craving the connection between us. We’ve been through so much—more than I ever thought I could handle—and yet, here we are. Together.

“He’s going to be strong like you,” I murmur, looking up at Timur. “But… I hope he also has your softer side.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, his lips curving into the hint of a smile. “I’m not soft.”

I laugh quietly, shaking my head. “Maybe not to everyone, but you are to me.”

Timur’s gaze darkens slightly, his hand on my back sliding up to rest on my shoulder. “Only you,” he says, his voice low, almost possessive.

I don’t mind it, though, not tonight. Not after what we’ve been through.

Tyler shifts in my arms, his tiny body relaxing into sleep. I glance down at him, then back at Timur. “We should let him sleep,” I whisper.

Timur nods, watching as I gently lower Tyler into the crib. Once the baby is settled, I straighten up, turning to face Timur fully. Our eyes meet, and something passes between us, something unspoken but deeply understood.

He leans down, brushing his lips lightly against mine. It’s a soft, almost tender kiss, but it sends a shiver through me. When he pulls back, I can see the raw emotion in his eyes—the same vulnerability I’ve started to recognize in him, the part of him that only I seem to see.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Timur murmurs, his hand cupping my cheek. “You and Tyler will always be safe with me. Always.”

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. “I know.”

He pulls me into his arms, and I melt against him, resting my head on his chest. For the first time in a long while, I feel like we’re on the same page. Like we’re not just surviving, but building something real together.

Epilogue - Timur

The sun glistens off the turquoise water as our yacht glides through the calm waves. Music plays in the background, and the air is filled with laughter and conversation. Friends and family mingle around the deck, sipping champagne and enjoying the perfect weather.

I stand near the railing, surveying the scene. My brother is here, Oleg too, and even some of Jennifer’s friends from her old life—before all of this. It’s a rare moment of peace, one that feels earned after the chaos of the past few years.

Jennifer stands a few feet away, laughing with Katya. Her hand rests on her belly, the gentle curve of her second pregnancy visible even beneath the flowy summer dress she’s wearing. She’s glowing, more beautiful than ever, and I can’t take my eyes off her. She holds a glass of alcohol-free champagne, sipping it occasionally as she chats with my mother.

I’ve never seen her happier, and that makes something inside me settle. Seeing her like this, so at ease, so content, it feels like the calm after a storm.

Oleg approaches, handing me a fresh drink. “Not bad, eh?” he comments, nodding toward the lively party. “Feels good to see you in this kind of mood.”

I grunt, my eyes still locked on Jennifer. “It does.”

Oleg raises an eyebrow, smirking as he follows my gaze. “She looks good with a baby bump.”

“She looks good all the time,” I reply, my voice gruff but honest.

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