Page 42 of Sold to the Bratva
“I’m glad you didn’t,” she says softly. “Stay single, that is.”
The air between us stills.
I wrap my hand around hers, anchoring us both. “Me too.”
We kiss softly, nothing more than the press of her lips against mine, but it still knocks the breath from my lungs. After everything that’s happened this afternoon, the moment grounds me, reminding me that she’s okay. It was a fainting spell, nothing more serious than that.
A moment later, the door opens.
“Mr. and Mrs. Kozlov?”
The doctor steps inside, calm, tablet in hand, smiling politely as though he hasn’t just interrupted the one thing holding me together. I straighten but keep Katya’s hand in mine. She doesn’t let go either.
The doctor glances between us.
“I’m happy to report everything looks stable. There’s nothing alarming in your vitals, Mrs. Kozlova, no evidence of anything serious.” He pauses, glances at his tablet again. “But there is something I need to bring to your attention.”
She tenses beside me. I feel the shift, the sharp inhale, fear sliding back beneath her skin. The doctor glances up again, his expression neutral, careful.
“It appears that you’re pregnant.”
The words echo in my head, muffled and distant, as if they were meant for someone else. Katya goes still. I feel the news slam into her, the weight of it. Her hand slackens in mine, her breath catches. She blinks slowly, as though her brain is working overtime just to keep up.
“I’m sorry, what?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.
The doctor’s tone remains gentle. “You’re pregnant, Mrs. Kozlova. You’re in the very early stages, probably about three weeks along. You wouldn’t have even known without the bloodwork this early. That’s likely why you fainted today. It’s not uncommon in the first trimester.”
Katya still hasn’t moved. Neither have I.
Pregnant.
Of all the things I expected, this wasn’t one of them. Marriage was already a curveball I never saw coming, but a baby is something else entirely.
The doctor gives us a moment to let it settle before continuing.
“Your hormone levels look great and based on your current condition, I see no reason to keep you overnight. You’re free to go home, as long as you take it easy. Lots of water and make sure to eat well. Make an appointment for a follow-up with your OB in a few days.”
I nod on autopilot, and he leaves with a quiet assurance that someone will bring discharge paperwork soon. Then it’s just the two of us again. I shift in my seat, turning toward her, but she’s already looking at me. Eyes wide. Unblinking.
“I didn’t expect that,” she says slowly.
“Neither did I.”
She lets out a humorless laugh, more stunned than anything, utterly shell-shocked.
I reach for her again. She doesn’t pull away.
Her gaze drops to her lap, one hand drifting to her flat abdomen. There’s nothing to see yet, no change at all, but I know the moment it clicks. I see the realization bloom behind her eyes.
“Isaac,” she whispers.
I’m already moving, settling on the edge of the bed beside her, close and steady. My hand covers hers.
“I’m scared,” she says quietly.
“I know.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mom. I don’t even know if I’m doing this whole wife thing right yet, and now there’s going to be a baby?”
