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“Of course.”
We part ways, my heart feeling both heavy and elated at the same time as I head home, my mind a whirlwind of emotions.
Later that day, I meet with Irina and Gavriil.
“How was your night?” Gavriil asks as I walk into his office.
“Oh, pizza and indulgence,” I answer, and then move the conversation away from last night. “I’ve made a decision about the surrogacy.”
Irina’s eyes shine the moment I say the words. Gavriil straightens from where he’s leaning against the desk, his brows lifting just slightly—it's the only sign of emotion he allows to break through that stoic face.
“I’ve made my decision,” I repeat. “I want to do this. I want to be your surrogate.”
Irina lets out a shaky breath. Her hand finds mine across the desk. “You’re absolutely sure? You don’t feel pressured?”
“Not at all,” I tell them. “I’ve thought it through.”
“You don’t know how much this means to us,” Irina says, tears already rising. “After everything, this… It’s hope.”
“What comes next?” I ask, needing something concrete to hold on to. Something clinical. Safe. A process I can follow.
Irina’s composure tightens. “We’ve already started. I’ve been working with a fertility specialist for the last month. My hormones are being tracked, and we’ve reached the point where they’re ready to extract my eggs.”
“They’ll retrieve them next week,” Gavriil adds. “All we need now is for you to undergo a physical. Just routine—blood work, screening, and an ultrasound to check uterine health. If everything checks out, we can proceed almost immediately.”
“How long until we know if the implantation works?” I ask, my voice quieter now. The weight of this is starting to settle in.
“About two weeks after implantation,” Irina says gently. “It’s hard not to get attached, but it’s best to take it one step at a time. Still… I can’t help but be hopeful with you.”
“And this is your last chance to back out,” Gavriil says, his tone firmer now. “We’ll understand if you change your mind. Are you sure, Tara?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. But the word lodges in my throat differently now. As if it echoes through something fragile inside me. Because the high of last night has faded. And now I feel a dull ache—a hollow space in my chest where Damien used to be.
It’s stupid. I knew what it was. A night. A perfect, scorching night with a man I don’t even know.
But it wasn’t just sex. It felt like something else. Something that reached inside me and left a mark I can’t seem to scrub away.
Still… I push it down.
I’ve worked too damn hard to let one man throw me off course. I’m going to be a professor. I’m going to finish my PhD. I have afuture lined up, a real career ahead. Not just some fantasy that could blow up my whole life.
“I’m one hundred percent in,” I say again, and this time, I feel it in my bones.
“I wish there were something we could do for you,” Irina lets out a soft cry and throws her arms around me. “You have no idea how much this means. We owe you everything.”
“Actually…” I pause, unzipping my purse. “There is something I want to show you.”
I pull out the wooden puzzle box and place it carefully on the desk. Irina’s brows lift.
“What’s this?” Gavriil asks, curiosity replacing his usual cool expression.
I open it and take out the birth certificate and the photograph. “I found this in one of my dad’s boxes. I don’t know who she is. But… I think I might.”
Irina picks up the photo, and her breath catches. “Oh my God… This is Anya Novikov.”
Gavriil leans in. “As in the Anya Novikov? The Jewel of Russia?”
“Yes,” Irina confirms, her eyes scanning the image with reverence. “She’s still alive. Married to General Timofey Morozov. They’re Russian legends. Anya was a codebreaker—probably one of the most brilliant mathematical minds of her time.”