Chapter Twenty-One - Hannah
The living room feels emptier than usual, the silence pressing down on me as I sit curled up on the plush sofa. My hands rest on my stomach, where the faintest curve has started to show. It’s not much yet, just enough to remind me of the life growing inside me.
Yesterday’s events keep replaying in my mind—the doctor’s words, the fear that gripped me, and the way Makar stormed into the hospital like the world was ending. For all his coldness, his detachment, I saw something different in him tonight.
A crack in his armor, just big enough to glimpse the man underneath.
I never thought I’d feel this way about the baby. At first, it was just a complication, an unplanned consequence of one night I didn’t expect to change my life.
Now, I can’t imagine not having this child. They’ve become a part of me, someone I want to protect and nurture, even if I’m not sure how.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulls me from my thoughts, and I glance up to see Makar entering the room. He’s still dressed from earlier, his tie slightly loosened, his dark eyes unreadable as they land on me.
He doesn’t say anything, just sits down in the armchair across from me, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. The silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I brace myself, expecting some cutting remark about taking better care of myself or how I’ve caused unnecessary trouble.
When he finally speaks, his words leave me reeling.
“Let’s get it aborted.”
I blink, my breath catching as his statement hangs in the air. “What?”
His face is impassive, his tone matter-of-fact. “You heard me.”
The shock hits me like a punch to the gut. Abort it? The baby—the reason I’m still alive, the reason we’re even married—he wants to get rid of it?
“Why would you….” I trail off, my voice trembling. “Why would you even suggest that?”
Makar leans back, his jaw tightening. “It’s the logical choice,” he says, his voice cold. “The pregnancy is already causing complications. You’re my wife now, and that matters. If something happens to you because of this child—”
I cut him off, anger bubbling to the surface. “So this is about convenience, about me being your wife and nothing else?”
His gaze flickers, something unreadable passing through his expression before he schools it back into neutrality. “It’s about priorities,” he says. “You’re my priority.”
He stands, ready to walk away, his movements deliberate and controlled, as if this conversation means nothing to him.
It means everything to me.
“Is that really all?” I ask, my voice breaking as I reach out and grab his sleeve, stopping him mid-step.
He pauses, his back still to me. “That’s all,” he says firmly, not looking at me.
Something inside me snaps. The flood of emotions I’ve been holding back bursts through, and I can’t stop the tears that well up in my eyes. “You don’t care about me, do you?” I ask, my voice trembling. “All you care about is what I am to you. Your wife. Your possession. Is that it?”
His shoulders tense, but he doesn’t answer. Slowly, he turns to face me, his expression unreadable.
“Makar,” I whisper, my voice cracking as the tears spill over. “Is that all I am to you?”
The sight of him standing there, silent and unmoving, only makes it worse. The weight of everything—his indifference, my own fear and frustration—it’s too much to bear.
He steps closer, his dark eyes fixed on me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to walk away again. Instead, he reaches out, his thumb brushing against my cheek as he wipes away a tear.
“Don’t cry,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.
I stare up at him, my breath catching at the unexpected tenderness in his touch. It’s not the answer I wanted—not even close—but it’s something. A crack in the wall he’s built around himself.
“Makar,” I say again, softer this time, my hand still clutching his sleeve.
His thumb pauses, resting against my cheek as his gaze searches mine. For a moment, I think I see something—regret, or maybe even guilt—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
“I’ll give you time,” he says finally, his voice quiet but firm. “To think. To decide.”
“Decide what?” I ask, my throat tightening.
His jaw clenches. “What you want.”
The answer is clear: I want this baby. I want the life growing inside me, the one thing that’s become a source of hope in this twisted, impossible situation.
What about Makar?
One thing I do know is that I don’t need time to think.
His face is unreadable, as usual, but there’s tension in the way his shoulders are set, in the way his jaw is tight enough to cut glass.
“I’m not getting rid of the baby,” I tell him firmly, even as tears threaten to spill all over again. “I don’t need to think about anything. That’s my decision.”
His lips press into a thin line, and he steps closer, his gaze narrowing. “Hannah, you need to think logically. Your health—”
“Stop,” I cut him off, my voice rising despite the ache in my chest. “Don’t pretend this is about my health. If it were, you wouldn’t even suggest something so… so barbaric!”
His expression hardens. “Barbaric?”
“Yes!” I nearly shout, my emotions boiling over. “I’m five months pregnant, Makar. It’s too late, even if I wanted to—”
“I know doctors,” he interrupts, his tone cold and matter-of-fact.
The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him, my mouth slightly open in disbelief. “Doctors,” I repeat, my voice trembling. “You know doctors who would… who would kill this baby, at this stage?”
“I know doctors who can handle complications,” he says evenly, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something defensive, maybe even guilty. “This isn’t about killing anything, Hannah. It’s about protecting you. Ensuring you survive.”
I let out a bitter laugh, though the sound is choked with unshed tears. “You don’t care about me,” I say, shaking my head. “If there was no baby, would you even keep me around, or would I just be another inconvenience to handle?”
His jaw tightens, and he steps closer, looming over me as his eyes darken. “Don’t twist this,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “You’re my wife, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
“Your wife,” I repeat bitterly. “That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? Just a title. A duty. This is just a problem for you to solve, huh?”
His hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach for me but doesn’t know how. “You’re not a problem,” he says finally, his voice quieter but still firm. “You’re… important to me.”
The words are soft, almost hesitant, and they do nothing to soothe the ache in my chest. “Important,” I echo, my voice thick with emotion. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he takes a step back. “Hannah, I’m trying to do what’s best for you. For both of you.”
“If you really cared about me,” I say, my voice breaking, “you wouldn’t be trying to force this decision on me. You’d trust me to make the right choice.”
We’re both silent for a long moment, the weight of the argument settling over the room like a heavy fog. My tears fall freely now, and I don’t even bother to wipe them away.
“I’m tired,” I whisper finally, my voice barely audible.
His expression softens, just enough for me to notice, and he steps closer again, this time crouching in front of me. His hand moves to my knee, his touch hesitant but grounding. “Hannah,” he murmurs, his tone low and steady. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I just… I need to know you’re safe. That you’ll make it through this.”
I meet his gaze, my vision blurred with tears. “What about the baby?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Would you really take them away just to keep me safe?”
His jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. Then he says, “If it came down to it, yes.”
The honesty in his words makes my chest tighten, and I look away, unable to hold his gaze.
He squeezes my knee lightly, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Your health is my priority,” he says quietly.
I let out a shaky breath, my hands clenching into fists in my lap. “If you’re so worried about me,” I say softly, “then stop trying to control me. Trust me to know what I need. Trust me to protect this baby as much as you want to protect me.”
His silence stretches on for so long that I almost think he’s going to walk away again. Then he speaks, his voice low and rough.
“I don’t want to lose either of you,” he admits, the vulnerability in his tone catching me off guard. “That’s all I’m trying to say.”
The rawness in his words stirs something inside me, but it doesn’t erase the hurt he’s caused.
“I’m keeping this baby, Makar,” I say firmly, meeting his gaze once more. “Whether you like it or not.”
His lips press into a thin line, and he nods once, almost imperceptibly. “Then we’ll do it your way,” he says finally. “I’m not letting you take risks, Hannah. Not with this.”
I nod slowly, my breath hitching as the tension in the room begins to ease.
For now, it’s enough. The question still lingers in my mind, haunting me even as he stands and moves to leave the room:
If there was no baby, would I still matter to him? Is it the only thing keeping me safe ?
Makar stands, his broad shoulders taut as if carrying the weight of the world. His gaze lingers on me for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he turns and heads for the door.
“You’re so sure about everything,” I call after him, my voice sharp despite the tears still streaking my face. “Maybe for once, you should think about what I want instead of deciding for me.”
He pauses in the doorway, his back to me, and I see the slightest shift in his posture. For a moment, I wonder if he’ll respond, if he’ll turn around and say something cutting in return.
He doesn’t.
He walks out without another word, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving me alone in the oppressive silence of the room.
I sink back into the cushions, the fight draining out of me as exhaustion takes over. My body feels heavy, like it’s sinking into the sofa, and the tears come again, slow and silent this time.
I think about Vera, her kind words, her reassuring presence. Part of me wants to call for her, to let her comforting voice guide me out of this dark place. Even that feels like too much effort.
Instead, I sit there, my arms wrapped around my stomach, trying to anchor myself to the only thing that makes sense in this chaotic, suffocating life—this baby.