Chapter 17 Vera
VERA
Iwake with my stomach churning, the taste of bile sharp in my throat. The morning light filters through our thin curtains, and I can hear Batya moving around in the kitchen, preparing for his errands. My body feels wrong—heavy and unsettled in a way I can't explain.
"Vera?" Batya calls from the doorway. "I'm heading out to the market and the bank. Keep an eye on Elvin."
"Of course," I manage, sitting up slowly to avoid the wave of nausea that threatens. "How long will you be gone?"
"Few hours. His medication needs to be taken at noon." Batya pokes his head into the room and studies my face with concern. "You look pale."
"I'm fine. Just tired," I assure him, but I don’t know what it is. With Elvin being immunocompromised, if I get sick, it could make him deathly ill. I'd have to sleep somewhere else, and I don't have a clue where that would be.
He nods, but I can see he's not convinced. "There's tea in the pot if you want some. And bread on the counter." His voice is softer now, probably so he doesn't wake Elvin sleeping across the room.
The thought of food makes my stomach lurch, but I force a smile. "Thank you."
After Batya leaves, I drag myself to the kitchen and pour a cup of tea, hoping the warmth will settle whatever's wrong with me. The first sip comes back up immediately, sending me rushing to the bathroom with my hand clamped over my mouth.
When I emerge, wiping my face with a damp cloth, Elvin is awake on the couch, watching me with curious eyes.
"Bad night?" he asks.
"Something I ate, most likely." I settle into the chair across from him, avoiding his gaze. "How are you feeling?"
"Like a bag of bones, but still breathing." He shifts on the couch, pulling the blanket higher. "That man of yours wear you out?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "Elvin!" I hiss playfully, but I can't stop smiling. We're both old enough to be comfortable with the fact that I'm not a virgin, but he's never been so bold.
"What? You're glowing half the time and exhausted the other half. Classic signs of a woman getting thoroughly—"
"Stop." I throw a pillow at him, but he catches it and grins.
"I'm happy for you, Vera. Really. It's good to see you with someone who treats you right." His expression grows more serious. "Even if Batya thinks he's hiding something."
"Batya thinks everyone's hiding something."
"Maybe. But this Misha…" Elvin shrugs. "There's more to him than he's showing you. I can tell."
Before I can respond, my phone rings. The caller ID makes my blood run cold—Sonya.
I let it go to voicemail.
"Who was that?" Elvin asks.
"Work. Nothing important."
But my hands are shaking as I set the phone aside.
Sonya's been calling more frequently since Pavel's death, always more demanding.
I've been ignoring her instructions, pretending I'm too shaken by what happened to the jockey to continue our arrangement.
It's a dangerous game, but Misha's protection makes me feel bold enough to try it.
The phone rings again immediately—Sonya, again—and this time I answer, stepping into the kitchen so Elvin can't hear.
"You missed yesterday's pickup." Sonya's voice is ice-cold.
"I told you, I need time. After what happened to Pavel—"
"Pavel was careless. You won't be, if you're smart."
"I can't do this anymore."
"You can and you will. Your brother's treatments don't pay for themselves."
The line goes dead, leaving me staring at the phone with my heart pounding. The threat is clear—continue working for them, or watch Elvin's medical care disappear. But Misha promised to protect me, promised that his influence would keep me safe. I have to believe him.
I return to the living room, where Elvin is watching me with sharp eyes.
"Everything all right?"
"Fine." I force brightness into my voice despite the nausea welling up again. "Just track business."
But my stomach rebels again as soon as the words leave my mouth. I barely make it to the bathroom before the tea comes back up, leaving me weak and shaky on the tile floor.
"Vera?" Elvin calls. "You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," I lie, pulling myself up to splash cold water on my face. But as I look at my reflection in the mirror, his earlier teasing echoes in my mind.
Classic signs of a woman getting thoroughly—
No. It's just stress. The situation with Sonya, the fear about Pavel's death, the intensity of whatever's developing with Misha. My body is reacting to the pressure.
But as the morning wears on and the nausea comes in waves, Elvin's words won't leave me alone.
"You know," he says during a commercial break from the game show he's watching, "when Mama was pregnant before she miscarried, she couldn't keep anything down for the first three months."
I freeze in the middle of folding laundry. "Why would you bring that up?"
"Just thinking about family stories." He grins at me. "She used to joke that our sister was already giving her trouble before she was even born." He wags his eyebrows, but I remember clearly how painful it was when she lost the baby.
"That's not funny," I tell him, and I let the painful memory of my mother's pre-cancer diagnosis stain my words so the anxiety growing in my chest is less obvious.
"Oh, come on. You've been spending nights with that old man of yours, throwing up all morning, looking green around the gills—"
"He's not that old."
"Forty-two is ancient compared to you. But that's not the point." Elvin's eyes twinkle with mischief. "The point is, maybe you should consider the possibility that you've got more than just stress making you sick."
The teasing makes me feel paranoid, even though I've been trying not to think about it. Misha and I haven't been careful. We've been too caught up in the heat and hunger for each other to think about consequences.
"I'm not pregnant," I say firmly.
"If you say so." But Elvin's expression is knowing. "Though if you were, that'd be something, wouldn't it? A baby with that dangerous man of yours."
The word "dangerous" makes me flinch. Batya said the same thing, that Misha was more dangerous than he appeared. But dangerous in what way? And why does everyone see something I'm missing?
After Elvin falls asleep for his afternoon nap, I find myself staring at the bathroom door. The possibility he planted won't leave me alone, no matter how hard I try to push it away.
Finally, I grab my jacket and slip out of the apartment.
The corner pharmacy is only two blocks away, but the walk feels endless. Every step makes my heart pound harder, makes the possibility seem more real. By the time I reach the familiar glass doors, my palms are sweating.
The pregnancy tests are in aisle three, behind a row of vitamins and pain relievers. I grab the first box I see without looking at the brand, then add a pack of gum and a bottle of water to make the purchase seem casual.
The elderly pharmacist barely glances at me as I pay, but I feel exposed anyway, as though everyone in the store can see what I'm buying and why.
The walk home passes in a blur of anxious thoughts. What if it's positive? What do I tell Misha? What do I tell Batya? What happens when Sonya finds out and decides to use it against me?
Back in the apartment, Elvin is still sleeping. I lock myself in the bathroom and read the instructions twice before opening the test package. My hands shake as I follow the steps, then set the plastic stick on the counter and wait.
Three minutes I have to wait. The longest three minutes of my life.
I pace the tiny bathroom, avoiding my reflection in the mirror, trying not to think about what a positive result would mean.
Misha and I have known each other for such a short time.
We're still learning each other, still figuring out what we want from this relationship. A baby would change everything.
And then there's Sonya. If she finds out I'm pregnant, she'll see it as leverage—another way to control me, another pressure point to ensure my cooperation. She'll use my child the same way she's been using Elvin's illness.
When I finally look at the test, the result is clear.
Positive.
The world seems to spin around me. I grip the bathroom counter, staring at the small window that's just changed my entire future. There's a baby growing inside me—Misha's baby. The thought should fill me with joy, but all I feel is cold fear.
Sonya will destroy me if she finds out. She'll use this pregnancy to bind me to her operation permanently, threatening not just Elvin's treatments but my child's safety.
I'll become exactly what she wants—a desperate woman with too much to lose, willing to do anything to protect the people she loves.
I wrap the test in tissue and bury it deep in the trash can, beneath empty shampoo bottles and used tissues. Then I wash my hands thoroughly, scrubbing until my skin turns red, as though I can wash away what I've learned.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Elvin is awake, channel-surfing with the remote.
"Feel better?" he asks without looking at me.
"Much better." The lie comes easily. "Must have been something I ate."
"Good. You were starting to look green."
I settle into my chair and pretend to watch television, but my mind is racing. How long can I hide this? When will I start showing? What happens when Misha notices the changes in my body?
Part of me wants to tell him immediately. He's been protective, caring, promising to keep me safe from threats I don't even fully understand. Maybe he'd be happy about the baby. Maybe he'd see it as a reason to formalize our relationship, to offer the security I've been craving.
But another part of me remembers Batya's warnings, Elvin's observations about Misha's hidden depths. What if his protection comes with a price I don't understand yet? What if this pregnancy becomes another tool for manipulation, another way to control my choices?
"Vera?" Elvin's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts.
"Yes?"
"You sure you're all right? You look… different."
"I'm fine." I force a smile. "Just tired."
He studies me for a moment, then nods. "If you say so. But maybe you should take better care of yourself. You know, eat better, get more sleep, all that healthy living stuff."
"I will."
The afternoon passes slowly. I help Elvin with his medication, prepare a light dinner that I can barely stomach, and count the hours until Batya returns home.
And by evening, I've made a decision. This secret stays with me, at least for now.
Until I understand what Misha really wants from me, until I know whether his protection is genuine or part of some larger game, I can't risk telling him about the baby.