Page 47 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

What did they know about a successful relationship that my husband and I didn't? Well, I guess Zoya felt the way she didbecause she clearly already liked my brother and was on board with the plan to get them married in two years.

Perhaps if I had been into this, things might have turned out differently. But my story was entirely different from Zoya's. She was fortunate in love; I wasn’t.

But the most surprising thing was that amidst her own bliss, she was able to sense my unease. And now, I just stared at her, my lips trembling at the weight of my situation.

“You don't look okay,” she added, her palm gentle and consoling as she touched my lap, her gaze unwavering. “Is everything alright?”

My heart raced in my chest, my tear glands charged and ready to stream down my cheeks. But I wouldn't let them fall.

I clenched my jaw, struggling to hold them back inside, and at the same time, my lips curled into a broader smile. “Everything's fine, Zoya.” I placed my palm on hers, managing to hold her gaze.

“Are you sure?” she insisted, her eyes staring like she was trying to study my countenance.

“Yes, I'm sure.” I chuckled, my expression soft as I gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

She didn't seem convinced. Her head tilted sideways, and her eyes still squinted as suspicion etched its way onto her face.

However, I wouldn’t let her see through me. For a child her age, she sure was an observant one, and I couldn't deny that her care and affection melted my heart.

“Okay,” she said, finally deciding to let go. A radiant smile spread across her face, and she refocused her attention on her future husband.

As my gaze left Zoya's, it settled on Ravyn, sitting beside her husband, Lev, across from me. It appeared that she'd been watching our little conversation. In silence, she stared at me, trying to figure me out. Ravyn could tell that I wasn't entirelyhappy with the situation, but she didn't say anything—she just observed.

Her words of encouragement from the other night still lingered on the fringes of my mind. How ironic that Erik and I had our first fight immediately after she said not to worry, that he wasn't as bad as I thought he was. A huge part of me wanted to believe her words—that everything would work out fine in the end. But it didn't look like that to me.

My life was falling apart in front of me, and nobody at the table seemed to notice, except for these two lovelies—Zoya and Ravyn.

Why was the coming of this baby so sudden? It came so soon, and I was yet to figure my life out. Children were meant to bring joy and happiness to their parents, but sadly, those emotions were strangers to me at the moment. I hated myself for thinking the baby in my womb was a mistake—a costly one. But in my defense, it wasn't the baby; it was the timeframe that bothered me so much.

How could I possibly raise a child in an unhappy home? Erik was of the opinion that his child wouldn't experience the pain of a broken home. But which was worse: a broken home with both parents divorced or a broken home with both parents together but emotionally apart?

This whole thing was a big mistake—the marriage itself. Maybe I should have just damned it all and said no. What's the worst thing that would have happened to me? Dad would have probably disowned me. But at least then, I'd have been in control of how my life would turn out.

There was no use crying over spilled milk. This was my reality now—it sucked. But it was my reality, my life.

“Tessa, sweetheart,” Mom's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, her Spanish accent adding a touch of originality to herspeech. “We’re all so happy for you and your husband. This baby is a blessing,si?” Her face lit up with a bright smile.

I could feel the stares of literally everyone at the table, their anticipation brewing by the second. I stole a glance at Erik, our eyes locking for a fleeting moment before returning my gaze to Mom. “Si, Mama. Thank you.” I managed to muster up another plastic smile.

“You're going to make such an amazing mother,” Dad chipped in, touching a napkin to his mouth. “I'm sure of that.” He beamed at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yeah, she's gonna be a pro at changing diapers in no time,” my brother Liam teased, his voice light and jovial.

A scattered laugh rose from amongst the others, tones laced with joy and bliss. But soon, their happiness started to fade into the distance as my mind gradually drifted away. I could see their lips moving, but I couldn't hear their words.

It felt like I was trapped in a room where everyone else was moving in a different rhythm while I was stuck in slow motion. I'd barely touched my food, and my stomach was twisting with nausea and anxiety.

Honestly, I was the odd one out in this gathering, feeling completely out of place. It felt like the evening stretched on forever, and all I wanted was for it to come to an end. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up with the pretense.

Mentally, emotionally, and physically, I was so exhausted. My body was present at the table, but my mind was not.

Erik, on the other hand, was fully engulfed in the happenings at the table. He seemed rather excited, talking and laughing with his family, seemingly oblivious to my struggles.

I sat in silence, counting the minutes until the guests left. With each passing second, my patience grew thinner and thinner, and all I wanted was some time to myself.

At last, the evening was over.

Erik and I bade farewell to get guests, with me barely holding up my plastic smile.

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