Page 40 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

It brings on a strange sense of déjà vu.

Except in this case, Tamara’s not the one with her head in the toilet.

I throw up dinner instantly. When there’s nothing left in my stomach, I just dry heave for a few minutes until I’m weak and exhausted.

Once I’m done, I wipe my mouth and slump against the cool wall of my bathroom, feeling strangely dizzy.

It takes a while before I start to feel something like normal again.

When I think I can manage it, I get to my feet and remove the lilac dress. I hang it up and walk around to my shelf space where I keep my night clothes.

As I pass the mirror, I stop short, wondering why my body looks so unfamiliar all of a sudden.

Perhaps a little extra weight around my hips? My breasts are maybe a little fuller, too.

Shrugging, I move to my shelves and pick out a soft cotton night shirt.

I’m about to close the cupboard door when something catches my eye.

Tampons.

I don’t know why I’m staring so hard. Don’t know why seeing my stack of tampons has me feeling sick all over again.

And then my worry starts to crystalize in front of me as I realize something.

I haven’t touched my supply of tampons in a while.

It’s been so long in fact, that I can’t remember the last time I used one.

“This can’t be happening,” I whisper out loud as my mind scrambles to piece together a truth I don’t want to face.

Yes, I’d been feeling different lately.

I’d been emotional.

I’d been eating more.

I’d been experiencing small bouts of nausea.

But all of those symptoms were easy to explain away.

Papa wanted me to marry, my life was closing in around me, it was only natural that I’d feel… off.

But now, all I feel is stupid.

I rush to my dressing table and rifle through the drawers. In the very last one, I find what I’m looking for wrapped in a brown paper bag.

I pull it out gingerly. The pregnancy test is at least two years old.

I bought it right after I was with Mattias, the pool boy. It was the paranoid purchase of a frightened teenage girl—albeit one who knew extremely well what her father would do if she got knocked up.

Now, I get to live that nightmare for real.

I pull out the pregnancy test and rush back to the toilet. The whole time, my heart thunders unnaturally against my chest.

I pee directly onto the stick, taking care to keep my fingers out of the line of fire.

Once I’m done, I kind of stumble to the sink, hoping and praying that my body is just playing tricks on me.

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