Page 66 of The Russian's Stalked Bride
And yet, being with Ivan means also being on edge more often than not, wondering when one of his enemies might strike. It could easily happen to him, to me, or anyone in his family. It would only take one small mistake for everything to change.
Ever since he came home injured the other night, I haven’t been able to shake the mental image of blood staining his skin, whether it was his or not. He brushed it off like it was perfectly normal, and while it is for him, it can’t be for the baby or me.
Sure, he was fine in the end, but if things had gone differently, his injuries could’ve been so much worse. That thought terrifies me.
While in the car, neither of us says much of anything. The silence isn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but it’s definitely loaded. He keeps a solid grip on the wheel with one hand while the other rests on my knee, grounding and reminding me he’s still here.
As the hospital comes into view and the car is eventually parked, my stomach twists in slight nerves, well aware that this will be my fate soon enough. Sure, I still have a while to go, but before I know it, that time will arrive, and so will the baby.
But today isn’t about me.
Elena gave birth to her little girl early this morning, and Wyatt was quick to alert the whole family.
The maternity wing smells like antiseptic and the comforting scent of baby supplies, and luckily, when we arrive, it’s quiet. There’s something hopeful in those rooms we pass by, where mothers are sitting with their newborns, smiling at the little life they just recently brought into the world.
Ivan gives my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go as we approach Elena’s room, immediately greeted by big balloons and a few of their siblings inside, while the rest mill about in the waiting area.
The joy in the room is loud as we enter, seeing Elena propped up in bed, glowing even more than usual. Wyatt’s beside her, smiling softly as he carefully cradles the swathed newborn against his chest.
“Ivan, Mila,” Elena breathes with a warm expression when she sees us. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Ivan’s the first to give his sister a hug before peering over at the baby, and his smile grows. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Elena reaches for my hand as I stand at her bedside, able to get a glance at the baby’s chubby cheeks. Even if we haven’t known each other for that long, she treats me like one of them anyway, and it’s an oddly tender thing for me.
“She’s beautiful,” I say quietly, not wanting to disturb the peace.
“We think so too,” Elena hums, looking over at the two of them with nothing short of love in her eyes. “She looks like her dad already.”
“They always do,” Roman says from the other side, arms crossed like he’s scrutinizing. Though his lips pull faintly. “She’ll look like a Lukov soon enough.”
Everyone chuckles at that, too engrossed in the baby to comment on his pride.
Before long, the baby, Talia, is handed over to Ivan, who holds her like it’s the first time he’s ever done this, despite not being a new uncle. He’s careful to support her head, smiling down at her.
Elena hums with her amusement. “She’s more durable than she looks, Ivan.”
“I know. Can’t help it, though,” he returns gently, lightly rocking her. There’s something so sweet and unguarded in the way he looks at Talia, and it hits me that one day in the near future, he’ll get to do the same with his own baby. Our baby.
After he has his fill, Ivan glances at me. “Want to hold her?”
I hesitate, looking toward Elena just to make sure, but her smile is confirmation in itself. I face him and nod.
With great care, Talia is transferred to my arms, and Ivan lightly guides my hands until the weight of her settles against me in such a profound way. She makes a small, almost contented sound like she’s already unfazed about being handed around the family.
My heart feels so full just from this small contact alone, and for a moment, I can only focus on her and what it’s like to hold such a delicate life. She’s so warm and trusting, and it’s more precious than I ever could’ve imagined.
I smile, and when I glance up, I catch Ivan watching me. There’s no calculation or strategy there, only a raw and pensivequiet that makes my throat tighten. He’s taking this in just like I did.
Seeing the others around, too, just cements everything in my mind. Something like this can exist, even if I never experienced it myself before. This kind of honest and innocent love is possible even in their world.
When I inevitably hand Talia back, Elena and Wyatt talk softly, cooing over the baby while they point out little details. The others come and go, not overcrowding, but checking in and getting their moments in while they can.
Despite being tired, Elena looks so whole and content with it all, surrounded by so much warmth.
With Ivan next to me, I feel lighter than I did before. Everything about this settles something deep inside me, gradually replacing fear with the realization that my situation doesn’t have to be a nightmare. Maybe I can reach a point where it doesn’t feel like I’m just surviving, or hoping for the best.
Needing a moment to breathe amid everything, I excuse myself to use the restroom, and Ivan gives me a light nod before I leave the room, eyes lingering on me a moment. The hallway past the waiting room is quiet, giving me the chance to process everything and collect my thoughts.
