Page 109 of Imperfect Desires

But he doesn’t blink. Doesn’t let a single tear fall.

The doctor gives us a moment. “I’ll step out for a bit,” she says softly. “Take your time.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Lev still doesn’t speak. He shifts slowly, leans forward, and presses his forehead to mine- a gesture I’ve come to recognize as a sign of his affection. His voice is barely a whisper.

“A little girl…”

It’s reverent like he can’t quite believe it. And just like that, something in me cracks wide open. Because this man—this feared, deadly, loyal man—is holding my hand with shaking fingers and whispering like he’s never seen anything more beautiful than the life growing inside me.

The drive back is quiet. Not the tense kind of quiet. Not the silence of things unsaid. It’s something else entirely—something softer. More sacred. Like the world has pressed pause just to give us this sliver of peace.

Lev’s free hand rests on the gearshift; he hasn’t moved it since we left the clinic’s parking lot. His other hand curls around the steering wheel, knuckles pale, but not from tension—just… thought.

Outside, the city rolls by in streaks of gray and amber light. The kind of late morning glow that makes everything look almost surreal. I watch him from the passenger seat. His jaw is clenched but not in anger.

“I almost walked away from this.” His voice is low, almost lost beneath the sound of the tires on pavement.

I turn toward him, my heart twisting.

“I almost walked away from you. From her.”

He doesn’t look at me. He just keeps driving, but his voice trembles in a way I’ve never heard before.

“I told myself I had no right to want this. To want you. To want a family. I told myself… if I stayed, I’d only destroy you.”

I bite my lip, and for a few seconds, I say nothing. Because if I open my mouth now, I might break. But he deserves to hear it.

“Do you know what it did to me when you left?” I whisper.

He glances at me then—just once. Just enough.

“It shattered me,” I say. “You didn’t just leave, Lev. You vanished. You let me believe I meant nothing. Now that destroyed me.”

He winces as if my words struck something raw in him. I don’t say it to wound him—but I must say it. I need him to know. I need him to understand that not having him is what will destroy me.

“I cried for you every night. I hated you and loved you in the same breath. I thought maybe I had made it all up in my head, that perhaps I had imagined our shared moments meant something to you.” I swallow the bile rising in my belly. “You hurt me, Lev. You almost destroyed me.”

His hand tightens around the steering wheel. His breathing becomes shallow now, and he can barely control himself.

He pulls over.

We’re in a quiet spot overlooking the river. Trees arch above us like shelter. The world goes still again, and for a long moment, he just… stares out at the water.

Then he turns to me. “I was scared,” he says, voice rough with that admission. “Not of you. Of myself. Of what I’d become.”

He looks down at his hands—those hands that have killed, protected, held me like I was made of something precious.

“When Viktor found me all those years ago, I was a feral dog. I didn’t believe in mercy. I didn’t believe in love. I damn sure didn’t believe I deserved any of it.”

I reach for him without thinking, my hand sliding over his. He doesn’t flinch. But he doesn’t move either.

“I watched you grow into this beautiful woman,” he says. “Gentle, brilliant, brave. And I looked at myself and thought… I’ll ruin her. If I stay, I’ll ruin her and tint her blood with mine.”

“But you didn’t ruin me,” I whisper. “You saved me.”

He finally looks at me.

---