Chapter 19 - Ivan
Despite nothing changing physically about the condo, it feels different somehow.
Really, I know it’s because everything else is changing, and in ways that haven’t for a very long time in my life.
Mila’s pregnant, and while that certainly wasn’t on either of our to-do lists, it’s something we have to face now.
It still doesn’t feel even remotely real in my mind, like it’s so foreign that I can’t even make sense of it. Even so, I’m not prepared to walk around like it isn’t real, or pretend like this responsibility isn’t something I’m willing to step up for.
Regardless of what she has assumed of me so far, I don’t ever want her to feel trapped because of this, which is why I even brought up our options in the first place.
I put it out there for her sake, but now that I know she would rather have the child than resort to any other measures, I don’t have to pretend like handling it was what I ever wanted to do.
At another point in my life, not following through with this would be a no-brainer, and certainly my first resort. Before, having a baby would’ve gotten in my way, and I wasn’t interested in having one with anyone I had been with.
Settling down wasn’t ever on my mind, but now, even that part of me has changed, as hard as it is to acknowledge on my own.
I should be panicking, and part of me is, since having a child with Mila complicates just about everything.
Yet, I can’t ignore the satisfaction that exists beneath it all.
It’s not triumph or feeling like I’ve won.
Instead, it feels like she has a reason now to truly see me, and to understand who I am and what I stand for.
Whether I knew it or not, I’ve wanted her focus this whole time. I’ve wanted her to look at me and know with absolute certainty that I am what she wants. Above all, I’ve been wanting her to decide I’m worth the hassle.
That leaves me feeling more vulnerable than I’d like, but if it means gaining her loyalty and her attention, then it’s something I have to bear.
I don’t know what all of that says about me, but I do know that I want this, regardless of how it’s forcing me to shed my old skin in a sense. Now more than ever, I can’t be the man I used to be. That part of my life must stay behind me, for her sake, and for our child.
Nobody else knows yet. Not Roman or the others, even if they usually have a keen sense for figuring out this kind of thing. For now, it’s my knowledge to carry, and in a way, this secrecy of ours feels oddly sacred. I want to keep it that way for as long as we can.
In the wake of finding out about the pregnancy, I give Mila space.
I’m there when she needs me, but I’m being careful not to hover and not to try to manage her emotions like something I need to control.
Even if we’ve come to an agreement on what we’d like to do, she needs room to breathe and come to terms with it all on her own time. If she needs to spend it furious at me, or grieving everything she has missed out on before, then so be it. I won’t stop her.
Still, every time I pull back instead of rushing in like I want to, and every moment I’m not right by her side only strengthens the truth I’m carrying with me now.
I’m determined to see this through, and to be the man she needs me to be. I want her to see that I don’t plan on disappearing when things get complicated, and I have no intention of reducing her pregnancy to a strategy or obligation.
She needs to know I can be more than the man who watched her from a distance, or the one who wouldn’t let her leave. I don’t know exactly how I’ll prove it, but I’m going to try, and being patient feels like the right place to start.
It’s late afternoon by the time I leave my office and find Mila curled up on the couch, where she hasn’t strayed far from the last few days. With a blanket draped over her lap and wearing slouchy clothes, she has the tv on, but from the glazed look in her eyes, I doubt she’s even really watching.
She looks tired, thoughtful, and fragile in a way that stirs the need in me to check up on her and to make sure she isn’t losing her mind on the inside.
When I come closer and join her on the other end of the sofa, she glances at me, keeping her expression carefully neutral.
“Have you been avoiding me?”
The question catches me off guard, but I shake my head faintly. “No, I’m not avoiding you.”
Mila holds my gaze for a moment, then murmurs, “You could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m trying to give you space,” I offer, keeping my words as calm and sensitive as possible. “I didn’t want to crowd you.”
I can’t tell if she believes me or not, but she huffs. “I didn’t ask for space.”
“I figured you needed it, given everything.”
Her gaze sharpens just enough for me to catch. “You shouldn’t just decide that.”
Pulling in a slow breath, I nod. Even if I’m in a bit of a corner, I won’t be the one to tell her she’s wrong. Not with this. “Noted.”
For a beat, she seems surprised by the lack of a fight, but fortunately, her shoulders relax a little more.
Allowing her to lower her guard and smooth those sharp edges, I give her a moment before asking, “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Mila murmurs, adjusting the blanket in her lap. She exhales, letting more of the truth slip. “And like my body doesn’t really belong to me anymore.”
Her honesty hits the mark harder than anticipated, and my chest aches more for her. “I won’t pretend like I know what that feels like, but I’m here. If you need anything, tell me.”
She lets out a humorless chuckle, absently rubbing at her forearm. “Demanding ginger and tea won’t make that go away.”
“I know…but you’re allowed to be demanding. And I mean it.”
When Mila glances at me again, I can see the various thoughts passing in her eyes, but she doesn’t vocalize them.
Instead, we sit in relative quiet for a moment, save the TV still playing.
Though there’s nothing hostile about this.
It’s just heavy instead, like we’re both trying to navigate it simultaneously.
Finally, she murmurs, “What happens now?”
I’ve been considering that question again and again in my mind ever since the test came back positive, allowing me to choose my words carefully. “Now, we take care of you and the baby.”
She blinks back at me, and I swear she flinches a little.
“I’m not talking about anything between us, or anything you haven’t agreed to. I mean the practical things…seeing a doctor, nutrition, safety.”
“And what about everything else? The ‘business’ stuff?”
“Is not my concern right now. We’ll figure the details out as we go.”
Mila’s gaze doesn’t waver, and her brows stay lightly pinched together like she isn’t sure if she should believe me. “You sound very calm for someone whose life is about to change.”
“I am calm, but that doesn’t mean I’m not coming to terms with it too,” I say honestly, not wanting to close myself off from her, as easy as that would be.
She frowns. “Then why aren’t you freaking out?”
Because scaring her is the last thing I want. Because at least one of us needs to be steady right now.
“Because panicking doesn’t help you.”
Her resistance lingers a moment longer, then she softens slightly. Looking down at her hands, she takes a deep breath, allowing more of that exhaustion to come through. “I’m scared, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how to do this.”
“You don’t need to know everything, especially not right now. We have time,” I reassure her lightly, trying to be mindful from as many angles as possible.
“I didn’t even know if I wanted kids before,” she continues, voice cracking with a touch of guilt. “It’s terrifying having that decided before I was ready, but I don’t want them to grow up like I did.”
“Then we won’t let them,” I tell her without hesitation. “They won’t need to know what it’s like.”
Her eyes shift into something a little more defeated. “You can’t promise that.”
“Maybe not, but I can promise they won’t be overlooked, neglected, or treated like a possession rather than a person.”
Like those words hold more significance than she could ever name, Mila takes me in completely, and a newfound hope surrounds her words. “You swear it?”
“I swear it.”
While one conversation can’t fix it all, I feel a noticeable shift between us while we sit there together, refusing to block out what’s happening. The tension is still there at the edges, but it’s not as cold as it had been. This feels more manageable.
Then, Mila leans back into the couch with a strained breath. “I hate how tired I am.”
“From what I’ve read, that’s normal.”
She cracks an eye open to glance at me. “You’ve been reading?”
“I like to be informed.”
At that, her lips pull, and it fills me with relief. That’s the first real smile I’ve seen from her in days.
“Of course you do.”
I watch her for a moment, moved by the way her hand unconsciously rests against her stomach. It seems so natural, regardless of her doubt.
“I’ll provide for you,” I say quietly, full of as much intent and resolve as I can manage without losing my composure. “No matter what happens between us, you won’t have to worry about anything.”
More receptive now, Mila doesn’t hide the slight emotion in her features. “You’re not just saying that?”
“No. I’m saying it because I want to, and because I mean it.”
I know she isn’t used to complete honesty or having her feelings considered, but I don’t expect her to be as disarmed by that as she is. With a slow exhale, her shoulders relax against the cushions more.
“I’m still working on that trust thing,” she admits.
“Take your time,” I offer, not pushing her in any direction. “I’m just asking you to work with me.”
Mila considers that, then she nods, not looking quite as lost as before. “I’ll try.”
It’s not a promise, but it’s something, and enough to work with.
While I don’t have all the answers either, well aware of how messy and potentially dangerous all of this could end up being, I just know I don’t want to let go.
More importantly, I don’t want Mila to ever think she’s alone.