Page 63 of The Bratva's Sextuplets
“When was your last menstrual period?” The question is routine, but it makes something cold settle in my stomach.
“I…” I try to remember, but the past few weeks have been such a blur of trauma and stress that normal things like keeping track of dates have fallen by the wayside. “I’m not sure. Maybe six or seven weeks ago? Everything has been so chaotic since the restaurant attack.”
Dr. Kozlova nods understandingly. “Stress can certainly affect your cycle, but given your symptoms, I’d like to run a pregnancy test and do an ultrasound to rule out any other causes.”
The word ‘pregnancy’ stuns me. In all my worry about the nausea and exhaustion, that possibility never occurred to me. Tigran and I have been intimate multiple times since our wedding night, and we haven’t been using any protection because… I can’t think of a good reason other than we both were prepared for a baby whenever it happened, maybe. Truthfully, passion just overwhelmed me, and I was too stupid to think about consequences.
“A pregnancy test?” Panic creeps into my voice.
“It’s just one possibility we need to explore.” Dr. Kozlova’s tone is reassuring. “Your symptoms are quite consistent with early pregnancy, so we should check to be thorough.”
The next few minutes pass in a haze of medical procedures. Tigran stands beside the examination table, holding my hand while we wait for results that could change everything about our future.
“The urine test is positive.” Her voice is gentle but matter-of-fact. “You are pregnant. The labs will take a few days, and I’ll be checking for any issues, like anemia. For now, let’s see what the ultrasound shows us about how far along you are and if everything is developing normally.”
She applies cold gel to my abdomen and positions the ultrasound wand, moving it slowly while watching the monitor beside the bed. Her expression shifts from routine professionalism to something that looks like surprise, then concentration, then amazement.
“What is it?” Tigran’s voice is tense. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, but this is quite extraordinary.” She adjusts the equipment and moves the wand to a different position. “I’m seeing multiple heartbeats. Let me get a clearer image to be absolutely certain.”
Multiple heartbeats. The words echo in my head as she continues the examination, making notes and taking measurements while the sound of rapid, rhythmic beating fills the room. Not one heartbeat, but several, distinct and strong.
“How many?” The question slips out before I can stop it. I brace myself to hear twins or triplets.
“Six.” Dr. Kozlova turns the monitor so we can see it clearly, pointing to different areas of the screen. “You’re carrying sextuplets, all with strong heartbeats and appropriate development for what appears to be about eight weeks gestation.”
The room starts spinning again, but this time, it has nothing to do with physical symptoms. Six babies means six targets for anyone who wants to hurt Tigran or gain leverage over theBratva.
“Six?” Tigran’s voice sounds stunned, like he can’t quite process what he’s hearing.
“Sextuplets occur in approximately one in 4.7 million pregnancies,” says the doctor while printing images from the ultrasound. “This is incredibly rare, and it will require intensive monitoring and specialized care throughout the pregnancy.”
I can’t breathe properly. The air in the room feels too thick, like I’m drowning in fears and the overwhelming reality of what this means for our future. Our children who will never know what it’s like to walk to school without bodyguards. They’ll inevitably understand at some point that people want to kill them because of who their parents are.
“I can’t do this.” The words tear from my throat. “I can’t bring six children into this world, when they’ll always be targets.”
“Zita—” Tigran starts, but I cut him off.
“You don’t understand.” I struggle to sit up on the examination table as the ultrasound gel slides down the side of my stomach.“These children will never be safe. They’ll never have normal childhoods or normal friendships or the chance to just be kids instead of assets in your war with other families.”
“They’ll be protected.” Tigran’s voice carries absolute conviction. “Whatever it takes, I’ll make sure they’re safe.”
“How?” I can hear the hysteria creeping into my voice. “How do you protect six children from every enemy you’ve ever made, every rival family that wants to destroy the Belskys, and every person who sees them as leverage against you?”
She clears her throat gently. “Perhaps I should give you some time to process this information. Multiple births, especially higher-order multiples like sextuplets, can be overwhelming news even under the best circumstances.”
“What are the risks to Zita and to the babies?” Tigran’s question is directed at the doctor, but his gaze never leaves my face.
“Higher-order multiple pregnancies carry increased risks of complications, including premature labor, low birth weight, gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, and potential developmental issues.” Her explanation is clinical but compassionate. “However, with proper prenatal care and monitoring, many women successfully carry and deliver healthy multiples.”
“Premature labor.” I latch onto the phrase. “How premature?”
“Most sextuplets are born between twenty-eight and thirty-two weeks, compared to the normal forty weeks for a single baby.” She continues with details about NICU care and long-term outcomes while I try to process the magnitude of what we’re facing. “The babies would likely need to spend several weeks or months in the neonatal intensive care unit.”
Twenty-eight weeks. That means six babies born months before they’re ready, fighting for their lives in incubators while their parents fight to keep enemies from reaching them. We’ll have six children who might spend the first months of their lives in a hospital, vulnerable and exposed despite whatever security measures Tigran can arrange.
“I need some air.” I slide off the examination table, ignoring the dizziness that threatens to return. “I need to think about this.”
