Nikolai parked the sleek black SUV in the discreet side lot of the private clinic, tucked away behind a wall of hedges and security cameras. The windows were tinted enough to hide their faces from prying eyes, but he still glanced around before cutting the engine. This wasn't the kind of place you stumbled upon—appointments were made weeks in advance, and the clientele included politicians, billionaires, and criminals who needed confidentiality above all else.
He turned to Elara, who sat beside him in the passenger seat, one hand nervously clutching the thin folder that contained her appointment details. Her other hand rested protectively over her stomach, a habit she had developed over the past week without even noticing. She wore a loose navy-blue sweater and black leggings, her hair tied up in a messy bun, face fresh and glowing despite her anxious expression.
"You ready?" he asked, reaching out to gently brush a stray curl from her cheek.
She took a deep breath. "As ready as I'll ever be."
He stepped out and came around to open her door, offering his hand like a silent promise. She took it without hesitation. As they entered the clinic, the smell of antiseptic and lavender filled the air. The floors gleamed, the receptionist greeted them with a soft smile, and the space was quiet—no screaming children or overcrowded waiting rooms.
They checked in, and after a brief wait, a nurse called her name. Nikolai stood immediately, his hand on her lower back as they followed the nurse through the softly lit corridors into a private examination room.
The room was pristine, decorated with calming pastel colors, and a large monitor was mounted on the wall across from the reclining patient chair. A soft paper sheet was draped over the chair, and an ultrasound machine stood beside it, wires neatly coiled, the gel bottle perched like a forgotten artifact.
"Just lie back here, Miss Dawson," the nurse said kindly, pulling on latex gloves. "Dr. Lang will be in shortly."
Elara hesitated for a second, then slowly climbed onto the chair. Nikolai moved to stand beside her, reaching for her hand. Their fingers laced together tightly. He gave her a soft squeeze.
Moments later, a woman in a white coat walked in, clipboard in hand. Her smile was warm but professional.
"Good morning, Elara. I'm Dr. Lang. I'll be doing your ultrasound today. It says here you're estimated at eight weeks, but we'll confirm everything shortly."
Elara nodded, heart thumping so loudly she was certain Nikolai could hear it.
Dr. Lang sat at the monitor and applied a generous amount of gel to Elara's lower abdomen, apologizing in advance for the cold. Elara flinched slightly as the probe pressed against her skin, and then…
There was silence.
And then, suddenly, sound. A rhythmic thump-thump-thump filled the room, strong and fast. The monitor flickered, and the faint outline of something small appeared. Nikolai leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, not in confusion—but in awe.
"There's the heartbeat," Dr. Lang said, her tone filled with practiced cheer. "Perfectly strong."
Elara's eyes welled with tears. She hadn't expected it to hit her so hard—to actually hear her child's heartbeat. That tiny, steady rhythm that echoed like a war drum against her ribcage.
Dr. Lang continued her scan, adjusting angles, zooming in and out. "Everything looks great. You're measuring exactly at nine weeks. The fetus is well-positioned, and there's no sign of complications."
Nikolai didn't speak. His hand was still holding Elara's, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring at the screen with an unreadable expression.
She watched him, eyes searching his face. "Say something, Niko."
He blinked, his throat moving as he swallowed hard. "That's our baby."
Elara laughed softly, wiping at her cheeks. "Yeah. That's our baby."
Dr. Lang printed out the first sonogram image, sliding it into a small envelope and handing it to Elara. "Keep this. It's your baby's first photo."
Elara took it like it was a sacred artifact, holding it against her chest.
The rest of the appointment went by in a haze. Blood tests, advice sheets, vitamins. But Elara barely registered any of it. Her thoughts were still back in that room, with the soft thump-thump-thump still echoing in her ears.
Back in the car, she sat quietly, staring at the sonogram while Nikolai pulled out of the parking lot. A few minutes passed before he spoke.
"I didn't think it would hit me like that," he said softly. "The sound... that heartbeat. It was real. It made it real."
She looked at him, her voice gentle. "It's been real, Nikolai. From the beginning."
He reached for her hand again. "Yeah. I know that now."
She smiled faintly and rested her head on his shoulder as they drove off in silence. Their lives were no longer just about them.
Now, they had a future to protect. A life to nurture.
And a reason to never look back.
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Elara sat cross-legged on the bed, the late afternoon light streaming through the curtains and casting golden patterns on the duvet. In her lap, she cradled the printed ultrasound images like they were sacred relics—photos of the life growing inside her. She'd already stared at them a dozen times, but they still didn't feel real. It wasn't just ink on glossy paper. It was a heartbeat. A life. Her baby.
Her fingers lightly traced the outline of the tiny bean-shaped figure. The rush of emotions she had felt in that clinic echoed again—shock, awe, fear, joy. How could something so small evoke something so vast?
And then there was Nikolai.
She chuckled softly to herself. Life really was full of twisted surprises. Who would've thought that the same man she had screamed at weeks ago, the one she considered running from again and again, was now the father of her child—the man bringing her chocolate milkshakes like some overgrown boy scout with a criminal record.
Speak of the devil.
The door creaked open, and Nikolai walked in, dressed in a plain black T-shirt and joggers, holding a tall glass of chocolate milkshake topped with whipped cream and a drizzle of caramel. Elara's eyes lit up immediately.
"Are you trying to bribe me or something?" she asked, lifting a playful brow as he crossed the room.
He grinned and sat beside her on the bed, offering the glass like it was an olive branch.
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe I just thought my girl deserved something sweet. I made it myself."
She took the glass and took a long sip, humming in satisfaction. "Mmh. Okay, okay, this might just be the best thing you've ever made."
"Wow," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "That sounded dangerously close to a compliment."
She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Is there anything you can't do, Nikolai Volkov?"
He tilted his head, eyes growing serious. "There are a lot of things I can't do. And even more I've never had the chance to try."
The mood shifted as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His fingers intertwined, knuckles taut.
"Anyway… we need to talk."
Elara immediately narrowed her eyes. "I knew it. This is a bribe."
"No, it's not," he said with a small chuckle. "Okay, maybe a softener. But the milkshake came from the heart."
He glanced at her, and the humor faded from his expression. "I've been thinking—a lot. About us. About the baby. About everything that happened. And I want us to try. Really try. I want a fresh start, Elara. I know I didn't do things right. I messed up in ways I can't even count, but it was the only way I knew how to fight for what I didn't want to lose."
She set the milkshake on the bedside table and turned to face him, her voice quieter now. "You burned down a clinic, Nikolai. A clinic. Just because I was considering an abortion. You took away my choice. My right to decide what happens to my own body."
Nikolai closed his eyes for a second, shame flickering across his face.
"You dragged me back from Lisbon like some criminal who'd escaped prison," she continued, her voice steadier now, sharper. "And I'm still angry. But… after today, after seeing the ultrasound, hearing the heartbeat, feeling something shift inside me—I realized I've already fallen in love with this baby. I want to protect them with everything I have."
Nikolai remained quiet, hanging onto every word.
"And I still love you," she admitted softly. "I never stopped. But loving you doesn't erase what you are. I can't lie to myself. I can't pretend you're just a misunderstood man with a dangerous job. You're part of the Bratva, Nikolai. You destroy people for a living. You do terrible things in the name of loyalty, of family. That doesn't just go away."
He looked at her, his jaw clenched, but he didn't interrupt.
"I know you can't choose between me and the Bratva. I understand that. It's not as simple as walking away. So I'm going to choose for you."
His breath hitched. His heart pounded.
"I will give us a chance. One chance," she said, her voice firm but not cold. "Prove to me that you can be the man I fell in love with. That you can be a father, a partner. That despite being the Bratva Nikolai, you can still be my Nikolai. If you fail, you let me go. No threats. No burning buildings. No chase. You let me leave."
Nikolai's hands trembled slightly as he nodded. The thought of losing her—losing both of them—tightened around his throat like a noose. But he said it anyway.
"Okay. I'll work for it. I won't fail you. Not again."
He straightened, trying to shake the fear from his body.
"Let's start small," he offered with a hopeful smile. "I want to take you somewhere after work tomorrow. Somewhere special. You're going to love it. I promise."
Elara groaned, falling back onto the pillows. "Ugh. Is tomorrow Monday? I hate Mondays. I'm this close to quitting my job."
Nikolai chuckled and leaned over her. "Hey, don't let Monday steal your joy. You love your job."
"I love being an interior designer. I just hate my boss."
"That bad, huh?"
"Worse. He loves piling files on my desk just because I'm the only one he trusts. I swear, that man has never known peace. I can't wait for maternity leave."
He laughed again, brushing a hand over her stomach.
"You're only at nine weeks."
"I know," she said with a sigh. "But it's gonna be a long ride."
She looked at him, eyes softening. "I hope we make it to the end together."
"We will," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "One step at a time."
And for the first time in a long while, Elara let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—they could.
Together.