Page 37

Now, sitting here with our son and watching our family celebrate, I feel the same overwhelming sense of completeness that filled me during our wedding ceremony. We built something beautiful from the ashes of violence and trauma.

A commotion near the cake table caught my attention. Angelina apparently decided that the three-tiered masterpiece needed her personal inspection. She stands on her tiptoes, reaching toward a sugar butterfly perched on the edge of the second tier

“Careful, printsessa ,” Aleksandr warns, scooping her up before she can topple the entire creation. She giggles as he lifts her to eye level with the butterfly.

“It's pretty like Mama's dress,” she observes solemnly.

Talia looks radiant in a flowing lavender gown that perfectly complements her daughter’s outfit. She let her hair fall in soft waves around her shoulders, and motherhood has given her a glow that makes her even more beautiful.

It is still hard to believe sometimes that we both found our way to this life.

Two girls who had nothing, who clung to each other through the worst the foster system had to offer, now surrounded by luxury and love and safety.

We each found our place in the Avilov family.

But, more importantly, we found partners who understood that our bond is unbreakable.

“Sis, can you help me with something?”

I look up to find Talia approaching, a knowing smile on her face.

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Would you mind holding Mikhail for a moment, Dimitri?” Talia asks sweetly. “I need to borrow your wife.”

Dimitri raises an eyebrow but carefully takes our son from my arms. Mikhail stirs slightly but settles immediately against his father's chest. The sight of them together, my dangerous, powerful husband cradling our tiny son with such gentleness, never fails to make my heart skip.

Talia links her arm through mine and guides me toward the house. “How are you feeling? Really?”

“Happy,” I say without hesitation. “Tired, but happy. Why?”

She glances around to make sure we aren’t overheard. “You've been looking a little pale lately. And I noticed you barely touched your champagne earlier.”

I stop walking. “What are you getting at?”

She turns to face me fully, her expression a blend of excitement and concern. “When was your last period?”

The question hits me like a lightning bolt. I open my mouth to answer, then close it as I think about it. When was my last period? Between caring for Mikhail, adjusting to life with Dimitri, and the general chaos of our daily routine, I stopped paying attention to such details.

“I'm not sure,” I admit. “Maybe six weeks ago? Seven?”

Talia's smile grows wider. “Sis, I think you might be pregnant again.”

The world seems to tilt slightly. Pregnant? So soon after Mikhail? We haven’t been trying, but we certainly haven’t prevented anything from happening. We’ve been focused on each other and our family.

“I could be wrong,” Talia continues quickly, seeing my shocked expression. “But you have that look. The same one you had when you were carrying Mikhail.”

I press a hand to my stomach, trying to imagine another life growing there. Another baby. Another child with Dimitri's eyes and my stubborn streak, or my nose and his determination.

“I should probably take a test,” I say weakly.

“I may have picked one up yesterday,” Talia says, smiling from ear to ear. “Just in case. It's upstairs in my bathroom.”

The next twenty minutes feel like 20 hours. The test. The waiting. The deep breathing while Talia paces in front of me. And then...two pink lines.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, staring at the plastic stick in my trembling hands. “Oh my God, Talia.”

“I knew it!” She exclaims, throwing her arms around me, careful not to squeeze too tight. “You're having another baby!”

The news is overwhelming, thrilling, yet terrifying. We’ll have another child to love, worry about, and raise in this complicated world we chose. But as the initial shock fades, excitement begins to bloom in my chest.

“I have to tell Dimitri,” I state, imagining his reaction. Will he be surprised? Happy? Worried about having two babies so close in age?

“You don't have to tell him right this second,” Talia says gently. “Take some time to process it yourself first.”

But I shake my head. Dimitri and I promised each other complete honesty after everything we’ve been through. No secrets, no matter how well-intentioned.

“No, I want to tell him. Today. Here, with everyone celebrating.” I look out the window at the party, which is still in full swing below. “It feels right.”

We return to the garden, and I feel like I’m walking on clouds. Everything looks different now, brighter, more vivid, and full of possibilities I didn’t consider an hour ago.

Dimitri is exactly where I left him, with Mikhail and Angelina nearby.

Our son is awake and content in his father’s arms. At the same time, Angelina convinced her “Uncle Dima” to wear one of her flower crowns.

The sight of my intimidating husband with a ring of pink roses on his head, completely unbothered by the feminine accessory, makes me fall in love with him all over again.

“There you are,” he purrs as I approach. “Angelina was just telling me about her plans to teach Mikhail to dance.”

“First he has to learn to walk,” the three-year-old says seriously. “Then dancing. Then we can be partners for the princess ball.”

“Of course,” Dimitri agrees solemnly.

I sit down beside him, my heart racing with the secret I carry. How do you tell your husband you’re pregnant? Especially when your first baby is still so young?

“Dimitri,” I start, then falter. The words feel too big for my mouth.

He immediately focuses on me, those perceptive eyes taking in every detail of my expression. “What is it? Are you feeling alright?”

“I'm fine. Better than fine, actually.” I take a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”

Angelina chooses this moment to lose interest in our conversation and skip off to find her parents. Mikhail gurgles softly in Dimitri’s arms as if sensing the moment's importance.

“ Malyshka , you're making me nervous,” Dimitri says quietly. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong. At least, I don't think anything's wrong. I hope nothing's wrong.” I’m rambling. I force myself to stop and meet his eyes. “Dimitri, I'm pregnant.

He goes completely still. Not just quiet, but still. Like time has frozen around him. His dark eyes search my face as if looking for signs that I’m joking, or he misheard me.

“Pregnant,” he repeats slowly. “Again.”

“Again,” I confirm, my voice low.

I watch as the news sinks in. I see the moment it truly hits him. His free hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheek with infinite tenderness.

“Are you happy about this?”

The question is so purely him, not assuming my feelings, but asking, making sure I’m okay with whatever comes next.

“Yes,” I reply, and saying it out loud makes it even more real. “Yes, I'm happy. Are you?”

Instead of answering with words, he leans forward and kisses me. Soft, sweet, full of wonder, and promises for the future. When we break apart, I see tears in his eyes, which makes my eyes water.

“Two babies,” he whispers, looking down at Mikhail, then back at me. “Two children.”

“I know it's soon, and it might be crazy with Mikhail still so little?—”

“It's perfect,” he interrupts firmly. “You're perfect. This is perfect.”

The certainty in his voice steadies something inside me that I didn’t even realize was shaking.

Of course, he’s happy. This is Dimitri, the man who fought for our love, who went to prison to protect it, who built us a new life from the ground up.

More love and reasons to fight, live, and hope. That is exactly what he wants.

“Should we tell them?” I gesture toward our family scattered across the garden. “Today?”

“Only if you want to,” he remarks. “This is yours to share when you're ready.”

I look around at the celebration, the joy and laughter filling the air. The timing feels symbolic, announcing new life at a birthday party, in the gardens where we were married, surrounded by everyone we love.

“I want to,” I decide. “Not now, but maybe after the cake? It feels like the right moment.”

Dimitri nods, then shifts Mikhail to one arm so he can pull me closer with the other. “Our children will grow up together,” he muses. “Brothers close in age. They'll be each other's closest allies.”

“Or worst enemies,” I tease. “You've met siblings before, right?”

“They'll protect each other,” he states with absolute confidence. “Just like you and Talia.”

The comparison makes my heart full. The idea that our children might share the kind of bond Talia and I have, unbreakable, unconditional, and fierce in loyalty, is more than I can ever hope for.

Aleksandr stands to make a toast, lifting a crystal flute. His presence effortlessly commands attention, and conversations quiet as all eyes turn toward him.

“To my daughter,” he begins, his accented voice carrying clearly across the garden. “Three years ago, you came into our lives and reminded us what we were fighting for. Not power or territory, but family. Love. The future we want to build for those who matter most.”

Angelina beams up at her father from her perch on Talia's lap, not understanding all the words but recognizing that she is the center of attention.

“To my family, my wife, my children, my brothers, and the women brave enough to love us despite knowing exactly who we are,” Aleksandr continues, his gaze finding each of us in turn. “And to the future we fight to protect.”

The crowd raises their glasses. Dimitri lifts his without letting go of me, managing the gesture one-handed with the skill of someone accustomed to adapting to challenging situations.

I raise mine as well, thinking about the new life already beginning inside me, the future expanding even as we celebrate.

“To family!” someone calls out.

“ K sem'ye !” echoes from several voices.

As we drink, I feel Dimitri's hand find mine again, his fingers intertwining with mine in a grip of permanence and promise. The war is over for now. But more than that, we found something worth far more than victory. We found a home and love. Our love survived it all.

Later, after the cake is cut and the gifts are opened, Angelina falls asleep against her father’s chest. Maxim and Sasha are reluctantly convinced to come inside.

That’s when we make our announcement. The joy and excitement from our family is overwhelming.

Talia cries happy tears again, Aleksandr embraces Dimitri with genuine warmth, and the children are already making plans for the baby, who won’t arrive for months.

Now, as the evening settles into twilight and the last guests depart, Dimitri and I walk through the gardens with Mikhail sleeping peacefully in his stroller.

The fairy lights strung through the trees create a magical ambiance, and the air still holds the faint scent of the flowers that decorated the tables.

“Do you think we're crazy?” I ask, one hand resting on the handle of the stroller, the other on my still-flat stomach. “Two babies, this life, all of it?”

Dimitri stops walking and turns to face me fully. In the soft glow of the lights, he looks younger somehow, more at peace than I've ever seen him.

“ Malyshka, ” he says, using the endearment inscribed in my wedding ring, “if this is crazy, then I never want to be sane.”

He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the lines of my cheekbones. “You gave me everything I never knew I wanted. A family. A home. A reason to be better than I was.”

“You did the same for me,” I whisper. “I was lost before you. I didn't even know what I was looking for.”

The kiss that follows is soft and deep and full of promises for all the tomorrows we have together. When we finally pull apart, Mikhail stirs slightly in his stroller, making soft sleeping sounds that remind us we aren’t alone.

“Come,” Dimitri says, taking my hand. “Let's go home.”

Home. The place where we’ll raise our children, where we'll grow old together, where love triumphed over everything that tried to destroy it.

As we walk back toward the house, I think about the journey that brought us here. The fighting is done. And what remains is love, family, and the beautiful future we're building together, one day at a time.

Inside the house, we can hear the family settling in for the night. Aleksandr's low voice is reading a bedtime story, Talia hums while organizing Angelina’s gifts, and the distant sound of children's laughter echoes through the halls.

This is our world now. Messy, complicated, real, and absolutely perfect in its imperfection. And I can’t wait to see what tomorrow will bring.