Page 66 of The Pakhan's Arranged Bride

My head is aching, a dull headache building just behind my eyes, and my stomach is carrying all my anxiety—I’m literally sick from the stress.

All I want to do is forget about it for a moment.

Belle is amazing.

She takes me to a coffee shop in town, and we talk for hours about nothing in particular, but it’s so good not to have to focus on the big things and to just relax and laugh and joke around in a lighthearted way. She can see something is bothering me, though, and while she asks about it, she doesn’t push when I don’t want to answer.

“How was the gala last night? What did you wear? I had an invite, but I wasn’t in the mood,” she says, sipping her second coffee.

We had English muffins for breakfast, toasted with salmon and cream cheese. My stomach isn’t too happy with it.

“It wasn’t so great. My stepbrother showed up,” I sigh.

“Oh my word.Miron? But everyone has been looking for him. So, he just walked in there, not worried at all?” she blurts out, shocked.

“Benedikt and I were both stunned to see him there.”

Belle falls quiet as her eyes trace over me.

She can sense my hesitation to discuss my stepbrother. And the shift in my energy at the mention of his name.

“You know you can talk to me about stuff. I won’t tell my brother. It’s private between you and me.”

I nod. “I know, and I appreciate that.”

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” she asks, setting her coffee mug down and tilting her head to the side. Her eyes are soft and full of love. She’s such a sweet person. She has no idea how much I appreciate her. But I’m still not ready to talk about Miron.

A wave of nausea tightens my stomach as the stress thickens. I groan, placing my hand over my belly.

“Are you okay? You’ve gone super pale,” she says, worried, reaching across the table to press her hand against my forehead.

“I’ve been feeling ill. Nauseas. I think it’s just stress,” I shrug, trying to brush it off.

“Mm. No, I don’t like it. Come on. I’m taking you to the doctor.” She stands up, gathering her things.

“I don’t need to go to the doctor,” I protest, standing up too, but as I do, the nausea gets ten times worse, and I quickly sit down again.

“You definitely need to go. Besides, my brother would never forgive me if I didn’t take you after I’ve seen how ill you look. Even if the doctor can give you something for the nausea—and the stress—it’ll be worth it.”

I sigh, giving in, not having the strength to argue with her.

She’s my ride home anyway, so I kind of have no choice but to go with her.

Belle takes me to the Karamazov’s private doctor, and he sees me right away.

Belle comes in with me because I’m still reluctant to admit I need a doctor.

“So, what seems to be the problem today?” the doctor asks as I sit awkwardly on the edge of the white bed, my legs hanging off the side.

“I think it’s stress, um, but I’ve been very nauseous and tired, and I’ve had a headache.”

“Mm.” He nods thoughtfully. “And when last did you have your period?” he asks, checking over a list.

I narrow my eyes, caught off guard by the question. “It was—"

When was it? Shit. No, it can’t be that. My heart starts racing.

“Six weeks ago,” I answer, a soft whisper.