Page 25

I wake up with a start, feeling the warmth of Timur’s body beside me. The room is dark, only the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the curtains. I blink, trying to shake off the disorientation of sleep, and then turn my head to look at him. He’s still sound asleep, his breathing steady, his face relaxed for once. In this quiet moment, with his harshness softened by sleep, he looks different—almost peaceful.

God, he’s handsome.

The thought crosses my mind before I can stop it, and I hate the way my chest tightens. I’m not supposed to feel this way about him. Not after everything. But I can’t help the pull I feel whenever I’m near him, the way my eyes always find him, the way I crave his touch even when I try to deny it. He’s dangerous—both in his world and to my heart.

I sit up carefully, not wanting to wake him. My gaze shifts toward the crib where Tyler sleeps. My heart skips a beat when I notice him stirring more than usual. Something feels off. I move quietly, slipping out of bed and walking over to the crib.

Leaning over, I place a gentle hand on his forehead, and my stomach drops. He’s burning up.

“Tyler…,” I whisper, trying to soothe him as he fusses in his sleep. Panic swells in my chest. He wasn’t like this before bed. What if something’s wrong?

I turn quickly, rushing back to Timur’s side and shaking his shoulder. “Timur, wake up,” I whisper urgently. He stirs, blinking his eyes open, his brow furrowing in confusion as he registers my anxious face.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is deep and groggy.

“Tyler has a fever. It’s bad. We need to take him to the hospital.”

That gets him up in an instant. Without another word, he’s out of bed, his movements swift and precise as he scoops Tyler from the crib. The baby whimpers in his arms, his little face flushed, and my heart clenches.

The drive to the hospital feels like it lasts forever, even though Timur is driving fast, his jaw clenched in concern. I’m sitting in the backseat, holding Tyler close, murmuring soft reassurances to him even though my own heart is racing.

We finally arrive at the hospital, and I barely register anything as we rush inside. The doctors take Tyler in, and we follow close behind, staying by his side as they assess him. Every second feels like an eternity, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

I glance at Timur, who’s standing rigidly by the bed, his eyes dark and focused on Tyler. Despite the tension in his posture, I can see the worry there too, buried beneath his usual hard exterior. For once, I’m grateful for his strength, even if he doesn’t show his fear the same way I do.

“It’s just a minor infection,” the doctor finally says, and relief floods through me like a wave. “We’ll keep him under observation for an hour, just to make sure his fever comes down. He should be fine after that.”

I exhale a shaky breath, my heart finally slowing as the doctor’s words sink in. Timur’s hand finds mine, gripping it tightly as if he’s been holding his breath too. The contact grounds me, reminds me that I’m not alone in this. For all his flaws, Timur is here with me.

We sit together in silence as we wait, both of us watching Tyler as his tiny chest rises and falls steadily. His fever is already starting to subside, and I feel the tension slowly leave my body.

“You okay?” Timur’s voice breaks the quiet, his tone softer than usual.

I nod, though my heart is still heavy with the weight of the night. “Yeah… I just got scared. I’m not used to this.”

Timur’s grip on my hand tightens for a moment. “He’s going to be fine. You don’t need to worry.”

I glance at him, surprised by the quiet reassurance in his voice. It’s rare for him to be this gentle, but it comforts me more than I expected. Maybe he does care more than he lets on.

***

I sit by Tyler’s bedside, my nerves still frayed even though the doctor said everything would be fine. His tiny chest rises and falls steadily, but I can’t relax. My mind keeps going back to the panic I felt when I first touched his feverish forehead. What if the doctor was wrong? What if something else happens?

I don’t even hear Timur walk into the room until he’s standing next to me, a coffee cup in his hand. He holds it out to me, and I blink up at him, surprised.

“It’s your favorite,” he says quietly.

I take it from him, a bit stunned that he noticed something so small. “Thank you.”

The warmth of the coffee spreads through my hands, calming me a little. It’s strange how something so simple can make me feel better, but the real comfort comes from Timur’s presence. He stands there, watching me, his expression unreadable. He’s not a man who shows his emotions often, but right now, there’s something in his eyes that makes me feel… safe.

“As long as I stand,” Timur says, his voice low and firm, “our child will always be safe. That’s my promise to you.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. There’s a sincerity in them that I can’t ignore. He’s not just saying this because it’s what I want to hear—he means it. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m not carrying all the weight on my own. I’m not alone in this.

Without thinking, I set the coffee down and stand up, moving toward him. I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face against his chest. It feels natural, like something I’ve been needing to do for a while.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

Timur’s arms come around me, holding me close. It’s a rare gesture of intimacy from him, and I can feel the tension in his body, as if he’s not used to this kind of softness, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he holds me tighter, and for a moment, I let myself sink into him, absorbing the strength and warmth he offers.

I pull back slightly, looking up at him. My heart is pounding, not from fear or anxiety this time, but from something else—something deeper. I’ve tried to fight it, but now, in this quiet moment, I can’t hold it in any longer.

“I think I love you,” I admit softly, the words spilling out before I can stop them.

For a second, I think I see surprise flash across his face, but it’s gone just as quickly. His expression softens, and he reaches up to brush a strand of hair away from my face.

“I’ve felt something for you from the first day I met you,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. “I didn’t know what it was then, but now I do.”

My breath catches as his hand cups the side of my face, his thumb tracing my cheek. There’s a gentleness in his touch that I haven’t felt from him before, and it sends a shiver through me.

“It’s love, Jennifer,” Timur continues, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and I feel a surge of emotion so strong it nearly overwhelms me. I never thought Timur was capable of love, not the kind of love that would make him vulnerable, but hearing him say it… I believe him. Everything feels right.

I lean up, pressing my lips against his, and he kisses me back with a tenderness that surprises me. His hands slide down my back, pulling me closer as our kiss deepens, and for the first time, there’s no hesitation. I’m not holding anything back anymore.

When we finally pull away, both of us breathless, I rest my forehead against his, closing my eyes for a moment.

“I was so scared,” I admit quietly. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you could feel this way.”

Timur’s arms tighten around me, and I feel the strength of his promise in the way he holds me. “I’m not an easy man, Jennifer. I’ll always protect you, and I’ll always protect our son.”

Our son. The words fill me with a sense of peace I haven’t felt in months.

As if on cue, Tyler stirs in his crib, letting out a small whimper. I pull away from Timur, rushing over to check on him. When I reach the crib, Tyler’s eyes flutter open, and he looks up at me, his fever clearly having broken.

“He’s okay,” I whisper, relief flooding through me.

Timur steps closer, looking down at Tyler with an intensity I’ve seen before, but now it feels different. It’s not the hard, ruthless Timur I’ve come to expect—it’s the father of my child. The man who just admitted he loves me.

I reach down to gently stroke Tyler’s cheek, and he lets out a soft coo, looking between me and Timur with wide eyes.

“He takes after you,” I say, smiling up at Timur.

Timur grunts, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Good. He’ll be strong.”

Tyler stirs again, his little hands reaching up toward me. I gently pick him up, cradling him against my chest. He’s warm, but not with the fever that had worried me earlier. Now, it’s the kind of warmth that soothes me, grounding me in this moment. I can feel his soft breath against my neck, and my heart swells with love for this tiny boy who means the world to me.

Behind me, I sense Timur’s presence, steady and protective. I can’t shake the change in him tonight, the way he’s shown me a side of himself I didn’t think was possible. It’s almost unnerving, seeing the softness in him. A part of me wonders if it’s temporary, but another part—deep down—hopes it’s real.

Timur steps closer, and I feel his hand settle on my lower back. The touch is surprisingly gentle, and I find myself leaning into it, craving the connection between us. We’ve been through so much—more than I ever thought I could handle—and yet, here we are. Together.

“He’s going to be strong like you,” I murmur, looking up at Timur. “But… I hope he also has your softer side.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, his lips curving into the hint of a smile. “I’m not soft.”

I laugh quietly, shaking my head. “Maybe not to everyone, but you are to me.”

Timur’s gaze darkens slightly, his hand on my back sliding up to rest on my shoulder. “Only you,” he says, his voice low, almost possessive.

I don’t mind it, though, not tonight. Not after what we’ve been through.

Tyler shifts in my arms, his tiny body relaxing into sleep. I glance down at him, then back at Timur. “We should let him sleep,” I whisper.

Timur nods, watching as I gently lower Tyler into the crib. Once the baby is settled, I straighten up, turning to face Timur fully. Our eyes meet, and something passes between us, something unspoken but deeply understood.

He leans down, brushing his lips lightly against mine. It’s a soft, almost tender kiss, but it sends a shiver through me. When he pulls back, I can see the raw emotion in his eyes—the same vulnerability I’ve started to recognize in him, the part of him that only I seem to see.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Timur murmurs, his hand cupping my cheek. “You and Tyler will always be safe with me. Always.”

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. “I know.”

He pulls me into his arms, and I melt against him, resting my head on his chest. For the first time in a long while, I feel like we’re on the same page. Like we’re not just surviving, but building something real together.