Chapter 22
LYAH
E ven though Niko rescued me he's been aloof since we got back. His face etched with lines of worry I haven’t been able to interpret.
In the past I would have fretted and analyzed my every word, reassessed every action. Now I’m content to let it go and not let it take up real estate in my mind. I’m here if he wants to speak to me.
For the sake of the baby, I’ll get a checkup with the doctor, to make sure everything is okay after all that’s happened, but I haven’t noticed any ill effects, and the small flutters I’ve been feeling have developed into proper kicks, which puts my mind at ease.
Niko didn’t come to bed last night, and before, I would have been distraught about it, wondering where he was and who he was with. Yesterday, I was just glad to sleep in the safety of my own bed.
This new mindset is… freeing.
As I make my way down to breakfast, I'm struck by how different everything feels. The opulent hallways that once intimidated me now seem gaudy. I run my fingers along the ornate wallpaper, realizing how little it matters compared to the life growing inside me, and the safety this compound provides.
The dining room is empty when I arrive, save for a place setting at my usual spot. I smile, but it’s kinda sad. I guess some things don’t change. But there is a difference, and it's me.
"Mrs. Radaeva," our housekeeper Maria exclaims, bustling in with a tray. "I wasn't expecting you so early. Shall I fetch the master?"
"No need, Maria," I reply, helping myself to some fruit. "I'm sure he'll join me if he’s able. And please, call me Lyah."
She blinks, clearly thrown by my casual demeanor, but nods and scurries back to the kitchen. I think I unnerved her. Oh well.
As I sip my tea, I hear Niko's heavy footsteps approaching. I brace myself, unsure what version of him I'll face this morning. But whichever it is, I’ll deal with it however I feel most comfortable. I no longer have the energy to pander to his whims. It’s too exhausting.
If he doesn’t like it… well, he can take it or leave it.
He’s already proven he’ll do exactly that, no matter how I tried to do anything and everything to keep him happy in the past.
He enters, impeccably dressed as always, but there's a tightness around his eyes that betrays his lack of sleep. His gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my casual attire - another pair of leggings and a soft, flowing top.
"Good morning," I say, meeting his eyes without hesitation.
He pauses, as if thrown off by my direct gaze. "Morning," he replies gruffly, taking his seat at the head of the table. "I've arranged for Dr. Zelensky to meet you in the medical room whenever you're done with breakfast.”
Yes, the compound has its own, fully equipped medical center. A necessity when you’re as immersed in organized crime as the Bratva.
I nod, taking another bite of my fruit salad. "Thank you. That works for me."
Niko's brow furrows slightly as if it never occurred to him I’d do anything other than agree. Since it involves the health of our baby, I won’t.
This time.
He opens his mouth as if to say something, then seems to think better of it. Instead, he busies himself with his coffee as the silence stretches between us.
For once, I find I don't mind the quiet. It's peaceful, in its own way. I'm content to enjoy my breakfast, occasionally rubbing my growing belly when I feel a kick.
Too many times I’ve tried to engage Niko in conversation just to get a grunt or a frown of irritation.
"How are you feeling?" Niko finally asks, breaking the silence himself, his tone carefully neutral.
"I'm well," I reply honestly. "The baby's been quite active this morning."
His eyes flick to my hand on my stomach, a flash of something passing over his face. I try to decipher it… curiosity? longing? Before I can decide, he schools his expression back to neutrality and I’m almost disappointed. For a moment there I thought…
"Good," he says curtly, returning his attention to his coffee.
I don’t dwell on those fleeting thoughts. It serves no purpose. Instead, I continue eating, savoring the sweet burst of berries on my tongue.
The silence stretches on, but I refuse to fill it with nervous chatter as I might have done before. If Niko wants to talk, he can initiate the conversation.
After a few minutes, he clears his throat. "I have some business to attend to this morning. I'll escort you to Dr. Zelensky, but then I'll need to leave."
I nod, meeting his gaze steadily, not showing the pang I feel, that he can’t be bothered to stay and make certain his son is okay after my ordeal, and choose, instead, to see it as progress. A sign that he trusts me. "That's fine."
His brow furrows slightly, as if he's not quite sure what to make of my response. "Are you certain? I can have one of the guards…”
"I'm sure," I interrupt gently. "I know my way around the compound, Niko. It’s not a problem."
And I certainly won’t beg him for time he doesn’t want to freely give. For now, I’m happy to be here so I can regain my equilibrium, simply because it’s easiest, but that doesn’t mean I won’t consider my options.
He opens his mouth as if to argue, then closes it again. "Very well," he says finally, his tone clipped. “We also need to go over what happened to lead you to that swamp. We’ll talk later.” He says it like he’s daring me to argue.
I sigh internally. Niko and I do need to talk… about more than just my abductors, and whatever that information might mean to him.
I know facing the truth with Niko can’t be avoided forever, even if it means the end I once dreaded. But it doesn’t hold the fear it once did since I’ve already lived through that scenario. I still don’t know why Niko came after me, or how he found me, but I’m sure I’ll find out in good time.
However, my brush with death and the knowledge I am wholly responsible for another life has shifted something fundamental inside me.
I will not shrink from it. When the time comes to have that conversation, I’ll speak my piece honestly and without artifice.
If I am to stay, things need to change. I won’t raise my child in a house devoid of love, and I’ll leave willingly before I allow that to happen.
If this compound, with all its golden fixtures and silent staff, becomes a memory, I really won’t miss it.
The lesson these last few days have taught me is that the future is a shifting, unpredictable thing. Nothing is guaranteed, not even the next hour, and it’s pointless to make offerings to a tomorrow that may never arrive. Better to root myself in this moment and enjoy it while I can.
Without anything that might bring me down.
I finish my breakfast at my own pace, refusing to be rushed and ignoring the way Niko drums his fingers on the armrest, impatient for his day to begin. I almost laugh at how different I feel - less like an accessory and more like the woman I want my son to know.
When Maria returns to clear the dishes, she watches me for a moment, her dark eyes quietly measuring, as if she’s waiting for me to slip back into the role of silent, anxious wife.
I give her a calm nod of thanks, and for a split second, she almost smiles.
The staff always see more than people realize.
We could certainly do with more smiling around here, and I’m determined my child will have that. I refuse to bring him up in the aura of sterile coldness usually surrounding this place.
No matter what I feel for Niko, and despite how hard he is to love, God knows, I still do, I have a different priority now.
The man in question is all business as he delivers me to the exam room with the briskness of someone who has no vested interest.
Yeah, that conversation is coming sooner, rather than later.
The space is more hospital than home. White walls, a row of glinting instruments, the faint hum of machinery. No expense spared.
I slide onto the papered table and rest my hands on my lap, as Dr. Zelensky’s nurse, a starchy woman named Svetlana who always smells faintly of disinfectant and cigarettes, enters the room with the brisk competence of someone who has seen it all and never bats an eyelid.
She checks my chart, gives me the once over with her bold glance, and manages a thin smile. “You don’t look so bad, all things considered, Mrs. Radaeva.”
I flick a glance towards Niko, wondering what he’s told them since we’ve not even spoken of it ourselves, but he just nods and walks away, adding to the layer of resolve that coats my decision.
I return Svetlana’s smile with a genuine one of my own. “I don’t feel any worse for wear,” I tell her as Dr. Zelensky enters and asks a series of questions about the baby’s movements and my own bumps and scrapes.
He checks the cut in my hairline, and declares it too late to bother stitching, but warns me to be aware of the signs of concussion and tells me to take it easy for a few days.
Then I ask about the only thing that really concerns me. “What about the chloroform I inhaled? Will that affect the baby at all?”
He looks startled, like he never knew that was a concern. I guess he didn’t since he’s prone to ask Niko about my health, rather than speaking to me directly, and Niko doesn’t know.
Dr. Zelensky's brow furrows as he processes this new information but remains strictly professional. "When did this occur?"
I explain briefly, careful not to give too many details, and his eyes widen slightly but he doesn’t give anything away.
"Given the short-term exposure and the stage of your pregnancy, the risk to the fetus is minimal.
In fact, once upon a time, the drug was used to aid childbirth," he reassures me.
"However, we'll monitor things to be on the safe side, and I'd like to do an ultrasound today to check on the baby's development. "
Svetlana wheels in the ultrasound machine, and thirty minutes later, I feel the release of a tension I didn’t even know I was feeling, as I’m assured everything is right with my world.
Well, this most important part of it anyway.