Page 67 of Pregnant Prisoner By the Bratva
“Ester, honey.” Ayla spread her arms wide open, her smile radiant and contagious.
My wife almost lost her composure. Her emotions were heightened, her laughs and smiles completely genuine. The two women embraced each other, kissing their cheeks and getting all sentimental to the point my wife started shedding tears.
Pregnancy hormones, I guess.
“How?” Ester stuttered. “What…what’s going on here—what’re you doing here?” she asked Ayla, shocked, confused, and surprised.
“Well, my husband told me that his brother wanted to surprise his new bride and thatIwas the element of surprise,” Ayla replied, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Hold on, your husband?” Ester tilted her head to the side, confused.
“That would be me,” Sergei chipped in, calm and collected as always.
For a moment, Ester paused like her brain had frozen, her gaze shifting across the three of us.
“I know you have a lot of questions,” Ayla said to her. “I do too. So, come on, let’s catch up, shall we?”
As she led my wife away, I heard her make remarks about how Ester’s belly bump looked great on her and how she looked stunning, like a pregnant goddess.
“So this is what love feels like,” I said, my voice tinged with wonder as I watched our wives mingling with the rest of the family.
“Funny feeling, isn’t it? Especially for men like us?” Sergei asked me, lighting a cigarette.
“Nothing could’ve prepared me for it,” I said, my gaze unwavering.
“You think this is the worst it can get?” He scoffed, releasing a puff of smoke. “Wait until that baby comes out; then you’ll know what emotional attachment truly looks like.” He glanced at me, then returned his eyes to his wife. “You’d burn the world in the blink of an eye for that child. You’d start a fuckin’ war if that’s all it took to keep her and her mother safe.”
He was right. I would.
The mere thought of any harm befalling my family made my blood boil. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, and my jaw locked.
“People say hate is greater than love, but that’s bullshit,” he added. “Love is the most powerful emotion, and that makes it the most dangerous.” He turned his head to face me. “Fatherhood is uncharted territory, brother.”
I looked at him, paying rapt attention to his next words.
He continued, “It changes you in ways you never thought possible.” Sergei paused for a second, as if letting the words sinkin first. “You see, brother, the Bratva taught us to be strong, ruthless—turned us into monsters and cruel businessmen. What the brotherhood didn’t teach us is how to be husbands and fathers. That, we’ll have to figure out on our own.”
I nodded.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Man to man, your family comes first. Not the Bratva. Your family. Got it?”
Again, I nodded.
He spotted a cousin of ours across the room and picked up another glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go say hello.” He walked away.
“Sergei,” I called after him.
My brother stopped in his tracks and looked back.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice low and even, laced with sincerity.
He raised his glass and picked up his pace.
I drew a deep, long breath, a hand in my pocket as I shifted my gaze to my wife. She was seated on the same couch as Ayla, smiling uncontrollably. The two women were chatting and demonstrating with their hands, laughing hard about God-knows-what.
It was such a beautiful sight to behold—the way Ester’s eyes lit up with mirth and crinkled at the corners, the way her broad smile brightened her mood. It was lovely, and I was glad I asked for Ayla’s presence.
At first, I didn’t know that my wife and my brother’s, used to be old friends. However, when my brother toldhiswife about the woman I married, and showed her a picture, everything fell into place.
