Page 104 of Forced to Marry the Russian Pakhan
The doctor lifts a squalling, red-faced bundle into the air as if it were something sacred. “You’ve got a healthy little girl.”
My knees almost give out.
Yulia collapses back onto the pillows, chest heaving, eyes glassy with tears—but smiling. She looks at me like I just handed her the world.
But it’s she who’s done that for me.
They place the baby on her chest, and I look down at this tiny, perfect miracle—pink skin, soft tufts of dark hair, furious little fists. She quiets the moment Yulia whispers to her.
Tears blur my vision. I don’t care if anyone sees.
“I love you,” I say hoarsely, to both of them. “I love you so much, I don’t know how I ever lived before this.”
Yulia looks up, exhausted and radiant. “You’re crying.”
I nod, not bothering to deny it. “Of course I am. You’re the bravest damn woman I’ve ever met. And she’s ours.”
Our daughter blinks up at me, already judging me like a true Yuri.
I reach out, brushing one tiny hand with my finger. She wraps hers around it instinctively, holding tight.
My heart caves.
Life hasn’t always been kind to me. But right now—right here?
It’s good.
And I’m never letting go of this gift.
*****
THE END
