Chapter 18 - Mila
The days blur into each other, becoming almost impossible to mark with dates. Instead, I keep track mentally by the overall mood.
Ivan’s presence shifts in an unpredictable way.
Some mornings, he’s distant and perfectly controlled, focusing on business and keeping tabs on his brothers and whatever they have going on.
Others, he lingers within sight, drinking his coffee with me and asking questions more like he genuinely wants to know the answers.
He comes up with things to do, instead of making me waste away here on my own.
Some days, I can tell he’s struggling to hold himself back, like he’s dying to be closer. His fingers brushing against mine when he hands me something, or the way he holds my gaze a little too long, are all his obvious tells.
I remind myself as often as I can that I shouldn’t look into it.
If anything, it’s just the proximity and the fact that I’m always here, always accessible, and in his space. It’s an inevitable thing, and it doesn’t need to mean anything.
Still, we circle each other like we’re both very aware of the tight rope we’re treading. In some moments, we’re close enough to feel the warmth of each other and whatever this is, only to follow it up with periods of isolation, like we’ve been shocked into remembering the danger of it.
I catch him watching me, and I catch myself perking up when he enters the room. It’s…interesting, but also exhausting somehow.
And now, to make matters worse, it feels like my body’s betraying me.
It started with weird, brief dizzy spells that made me brace myself against the back of the couch when I stood, and now, I hate the thought of eating. Worse, I hate the nausea that follows when I do.
I know it’s just the stress of everything, and with my luck, my body’s paying the price for enduring it for too long. Anyone would feel sick in the position I’m in, not quite a prisoner, but not free either.
“What, does my cooking suck that bad?” Ivan asks as he rinses his dishes off before loading the dishwasher.
Still sitting at the island, chin resting on my palm, I stare down at the eggs on my plate, which are long and cold now. The idea was that they might become more appealing the longer I looked at them, but enough time has passed for me to know that isn’t the case.
I make a noncommittal sound in my throat. “No, it’s fine. I just can’t.”
“You can’t,” he repeats, leaning back against the counter. “You didn’t eat breakfast yesterday either.”
“I haven’t been hungry.”
“You’ve been eating like a mouse the last few days. You should be starving,” Ivan murmurs, brows furrowing. Then, after a moment of consideration, he sighs and takes the plate. “If you want anything in particular, let me know.”
Without energy to argue, I just nod, then I pull myself up and head to the living room, where I stay for a while.
Not bothering to practice today, I stay parked in one place on the couch, head tipped back with my eyes closed. For the most part, Ivan leaves me alone, but that only lasts for so long.
A few hours later, Ivan emerges from his office, and he stands there with his arms crossed like a scrutinizing teacher.
I open my eyes just long enough to catch his subtle frown, and I wrinkle my nose before closing them again. “What?”
“You’re not getting any better.”
“That’s very observant of you.”
A quiet scoff escapes him, but he doesn’t snark back at me like I expect him to. Instead, he moves a bit closer, and his tone softens fractionally. “You’ve been off, Mila. Why didn’t you say something before looking like you have one foot in the grave already?”
“Because it’s nothing,” I mumble, wishing he’d just drop it so I can go back to suffering in silence. “And I don’t need you monitoring me every five minutes like you are now.”
“Maybe I’d have to monitor you less if you’d just tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”
“Like that would stop you.”
Ivan doesn’t say anything for a moment, then I take a deep breath, punctuating the bitter silence between us. Then his voice cracks it.
“Could you be pregnant?”
I freeze, and the question almost knocks the wind out of me. Blinking, I glance at him like he just slapped me personally. “What? Of course not.”
He hardly looks convinced as he stands there, studying me and looking for cracks.
“You’ve hardly stomached anything in days.
You can’t stand without getting dizzy, and you’ve been walking around like you don’t know what a good night’s rest is.
I have a very pregnant sister currently… I know the signs.”
The words feel scalding to digest, but I keep my gaze sharp, as if that might scare off the possibility. “We used protection. You made sure of it.”
“I know,” Ivan says, relaxing his arms to a less defensive stance while he scrubs a hand over his mouth. “But protection isn’t a guarantee, and you’re obviously not well. When was your last period?”
Something painful twists in my stomach as I try to think about it, but with the days blurring into each other, it’s impossible to tell. Shaking my head, I try to keep myself calm. To remind myself that this isn’t real, and he’s just speculating. “I don’t know. It’s hard to keep track here.”
He watches me carefully with that crease between his brows, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. “Then we should check, just to rule it out.”
It feels more like he rammed a blade through my chest than anything else, and I feel myself clam up. “No.”
He sighs. “Mila.”
“No. No way,” I repeat, still shaking my head as I grip my loose joggers tighter than I mean to. “I’m not doing it.”
“You’re doing it tomorrow morning,” Ivan says firmly, not taking no for an answer. “We both need to know, and the sooner we do, the better.”
Anger cuts through me before I can temper it. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Ivan takes a slight, deliberate step closer. “If you’re pregnant, it affects everything. We aren’t putting this off.”
Feeling like I’ve been gutted, not wanting to even acknowledge that this could be a possibility, I let that silence fester long enough to feel oppressive again.
Finally, Ivan’s sigh breaks the tension. “Take the test. If it’s negative, then we move on. If it’s positive…we’ll deal with it.”
Deal with it.
The implications wrap around my throat, making it nearly impossible to form words. Every instinct in me wants to run and pretend like none of this is happening, and to bask in the safety of ignorant bliss. But my stomach turns, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I do need to know.
“Fine,” I mutter, averting my eyes in favor of looking at the rug. “One test.”
***
I half expect Ivan to leave me to it and to come back when it suits him to find out for himself, but he doesn’t leave me alone while I go through the motions.
Instead, he stands just outside the bathroom door, then steps in once I place the test on the counter and put space between myself and the device. The box sits there like a specter to me, like it’s waiting to either confirm or deny my misery.
“Three minutes,” I murmur to myself, well aware of how much my hands are shaking.
Ivan nods, looking at me only briefly before setting a timer on his phone.
We stand there in complete silence, and just like that, we wait.
It feels like the longest few minutes of my life, unable to control my thoughts in the slightest. Between the fear and dread, everything in me feels so heavy, like I’m weighed down more than I’ve ever been.
I think about how my brothers would react if they knew what something like this could mean for my situation, and it truly would be a cruel twist of fate after everything.
When I glance briefly at Ivan, I catch the slight crack in his composure.
He’s so still, and so focused on nothing at all, that I know he’s trying to rationalize this too.
With all that tension in his shoulders, he doesn’t look untouchable anymore.
He seems almost scared, even. If someone like him can even be scared.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, that terrifies me even more.
I jolt as his phone goes off, but for a beat, neither of us moves.
It eats at me a moment longer before I finally step forward and reach for the test, barely registering its weight from how numb my fingers are.
Two lines stare back at me, and in an instant, my heart drops.
Positive, and utterly life-altering.
I stand there frozen for a moment too long, setting the test back down before turning away.
With a quiet shuffle of clothes, Ivan steps up and takes the test in complete silence.
When I muster the courage to look at him, I watch as reality hits him next, followed by what looks like a hundred thoughts at once.
Initially, his eyes widen with subtle panic, as if he could faint if he allowed himself to. It shifts, morphing into so many quick emotions that they’re hard to keep track of. Then, he squares his shoulders and snaps his usual control back into place like it was just a temporary lapse.
Ivan pulls in a deep breath. “Okay…okay, this is unexpected, but it’s fine.”
“Fine?” I question, on the brink of losing my mind right here in the bathroom.
“Yes,” he says, like this isn’t the most complicated thing that could happen to us. “We’ll handle it.”
I stare at him for an unknown amount of time before exasperation is the only thing I can manage. “You’re at war with my family. My brothers actively want me back for an arranged marriage.”
“I know.”
“Now I’m pregnant, apparently. And that’s fine to you?” I ask, not shaking my disbelief.
Ivan’s eyes meet mine, and he doesn’t waver. “Either way, we’ll protect you.”
My stomach aches. “That’s not the point!”
“Then what is?” He asks, frowning.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I start to pace without meaning to, putting a hand against my mouth.
“For as long as I can remember, my life has always been about other people’s decisions.
Where I go, who I see, and what is ‘acceptable’ for me to do.
My worth has been measured by how I can benefit my family, and when I finally have the chance to live a bit differently, I have this. Now my body isn’t even mine.”
“That’s not true, Mila,” Ivan says, looking more understanding than I expect from him. “You have options.”
I stop and face him again, tone harsher. “Do I?”
He hesitates on what he wants to say, but he doesn’t even need to. We both already know.
“I can’t do that,” I say quietly, sounding more like an admittance. “I can’t abort it.”
Ivan’s eyes search mine then, more carefully now, and without judgement. “Are you sure?”
Tears burn the corners of my eyes, and I take in a slow breath to keep from crying. I nod. “I’m sure…I know what it’s like to be unwanted. I can’t do that.”
He nods slowly, not pushing for more. To my surprise, resolve settles in his gaze. “Then we’ll raise the child.”
Even if it’s the only other option, it still makes my heart ache anyway. “With what kind of life? One with guards, guns, and everything you still keep from me?”
“It won’t be like that, I swear,” he says, but even as he tries to sound convincing, there’s a lingering touch of uncertainty in the way.
“You don’t know that,” I murmur, crossing my arms over my chest uncomfortably. “I’m trapped, Ivan. Again. But now, it involves another life.”
“This isn’t a trap,” he returns, expression sharper now. “You’ve seen my brothers and their wives. Elena too. If anything, this baby couldn’t be safer, or more surrounded by people who care.”
Shaking my head, I can’t put myself in their shoes yet. I’m not one of them. “Even if that’s true, I didn’t choose this, or you, or this impossible position you’ve put me in.”
Ivan blinks back at me then, looking more like I’ve struck him. For once, he’s almost startled, but mostly burned. “You regret being with me.”
Seeing him like this hurts more than I expect it to, and it takes all of my power not to break. “I resent that everything in my life always has a cost.”
The words are heavy enough to bring a stifling silence to the room, and as much as I want to run away from this, I can’t.
Instead, I sink down onto the edge of the tub with a hand on my stomach while fear and resolve fight inside me, completely unaware of how I’m supposed to do this. How can I be a mother, or how I can avoid the emotional neglect I face every day. I only know I refuse to let that happen again.
Surprising me, Ivan kneels in front of me, carefully reaching for my free hand. He takes me in, eyes offering me something kinder. Something full of understanding and determination. “We’ll figure this out, Mila. You’re not in this alone.”
I want to believe him, and I want to have faith that this doesn’t have to mark the end of my life, or where I stop being me.
But I’ve always learned to never get my hopes up, regardless of how badly I want it to work.