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MIA

When I was seven, I fell from a tree.

It was an old beech tree in my backyard. Back then, I was always climbing, scraping myself with bark and wrapping my tiny body around the tallest branches I could reach.

One day, my foot slipped.

I wasn’t too high-up, thank goodness. Otherwise, I doubt I’d have lived to tell the tale. But the branch I was using for support wasn’t sturdy enough to hold me up.

One second, I was playing with the leaves.

The next, I was on the ground, screaming in pain.

I broke my arm that day. Dad rushed me to the ER. Luckily, the break was clean—nothing unusual for a kid to get. I got wrapped up in a cast, took something for the pain, and was discharged within the day.

On my way out, a kind nurse gave me a lollipop.

I decided then and there that I wanted to be a healer. That I wanted to be the one wearing scrubs, on the other side of the pain, with the power to make it all better.

That day, I thought I’d never feel pain like that again.

I was wrong. Because this is a thousand times worse.

I’m clutching my belly, holding in my screams as Yulian rushes me into the ambulance. “Sir, you can’t come with us,” I hear one of the paramedics say. “You’ll have to meet us at the hosp?—”

“Try to fucking stop me.”

His voice is cold as steel. Without hesitation, he climbs in after me.

The paramedic goes silent.

“Let him come,” I whisper. “Please.”

Finally, a flicker of recognition seems to dawn on his face. “Nurse Winters?”

“Hey there, Kyle.”

His expression shutters. He doesn’t try to remove Yulian again. “Let’s go,” he tells the driver.

Then we’re riding.

I hold it together until we cross the doors at Manhattan General.

Then I lose it.

Seeing the ER from the other side is—well, it’s not pleasant, let’s just say that. The view from the inside of the bay, waiting behind the curtain… it’s a freaking nightmare.

But it’s not the reason why I start hyperventilating.

It’s my baby.

“What if I’ve lost it?” I’m clutching Yulian’s arm like it’s a lifeline, holding on with all I’ve got. “Oh, God, what if it’s gone?”

“You didn’t.” He sounds so sure, so confident, that every part of me wants to believe him.

But I’ve got years of medical training behind me. And a guilty, guilty conscience. “It’s all my fault,” I sob. “I should have listened to you.”

To Yulian’s credit, he doesn’t agree with me. Not openly, at least. “You were following your instincts,” he says instead, gripping my hand tight. “You were being a nurse.”

“I don’t want to lose it,” I whisper.

There’s blood between my legs, I know. I’ve seen it when Yulian lifted me up, on the pristine terrace floor, and I’m seeing it now, staining his white shirt red. It’s not a lot, but what if it’s enough?

My breaths quicken. My chest tightens. The room starts to spin.

I feel like I’m falling again, falling like when I was seven; falling, falling, falling ? —

“Mia.”

But Yulian catches me.

His voice keeps me steady. Anchors me to the here and now. “It’s going to be alright,” he promises. “You’re strong. Our baby’s strong.”

I shake my head. Our baby isn’t strong; it’s small, the size of a cauliflower, a tiny thing with a heartbeat I can’t feel. What if that heartbeat’s gone? What if I’ll never get to meet my baby now?

All because I couldn’t stay put?

This time, it’s not Yulian’s voice filling my head.

It’s Brad’s.

Useless. Worthless. Stupid fucking whore.

“Mia.” The memories part to let the present in. To let Yulian in. He’s staring at me, his gray eyes hot as coals, refusing to be overshadowed by the ghosts of my past. “Look at me.”

He’s demanding my full attention. He always is, isn’t he? Whether we’re in bed or we’re fighting or worse, he won’t be overlooked. Won’t accept anything less than one hundred percent of my attention.

It’s what drew me to him. What draws me still.

“Breathe with me,” he commands.

And I do.

He places my hand at the center of his chest. Lets me hear how it goes. How it’s supposed to go.

I keep breathing until I remember.

A kindly-looking doctor shows up. I answer his questions as best as I can, then I keep breathing slowly, deeply. In, out—just like Yulian taught me.

He gives me a quick physical, then gets the ultrasound.

“This might be a little cold.”

Freezing gel hits my belly. I want to cry out, but force it back. It’s not the gel that’s got me panicking—it’s the lingering pain in my core. Like contractions, but way too soon.

There’s no way it’s viable. I bite back tears and force myself to sit through it. I’ve lost it. It’s gone.

“Mia.” It’s Yulian, sounding transfixed. “Look.”

And then I see it.

No— her.

The doctor grins. “See that? That’s your baby. A healthy little girl.”

On the monitor, in blacks and whites and grays, I see it for the first time. My child—our daughter.

“B-But…” I stammer. “The bleeding. The pain.”

“It’s not uncommon to bleed a little after getting knocked around like you did.” The doctor keeps moving the probe around on my belly. “Pain was probably in your lower back as well. We’re lucky you didn’t go into early labor, though.”

“So… she’s fine?” I blink. It doesn’t feel real, a stroke of luck like this. “She’s okay?”

“I’d still like to keep you overnight to keep an eye on things,” he hedges. “But the bleeding seems to have stopped on its own. The sac’s intact. I see no signs of fetal distress. It’s probably an abundance of caution, but I hope you’ll indulge me.”

“Of course,” Yulian answers for me. “Anything they need.”

They. Me and the baby. Our baby—our little girl. “Thank you,” I whisper to the doctor.

“It’s my job.” He deflects with a wave of his hand. “I’ll order your transfer to the maternity ward. Get you all set up in your room for the night. Your husband is welcome to stay for visiting hours.”

“I’ll spend the night,” Yulian says, whipping out his platinum card. His tone brooks no argument. “Get us a suite. Only the best for her.”

The doctor’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he schools it quickly. “I’ll let admissions know.”

Then he’s gone behind the curtain.

I take a moment to take it all in.

My baby’s safe. She’s safe.

We’re going to have a little girl.

I turn to Yulian. I can tell by the intensity in his gaze that he’s thinking the same thing.

Suddenly, our fight seems so meaningless in the face of this.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “This was all my fault.”

“Thought I told you to quit the apologies.”

“I can’t help it. I feel guilty.”

“Then promise me something.” He fixes me with a stare so intense, so loving, I can’t believe I ever thought he was cold. This man— this is the Yulian I know. “From now on, no more running off playing the hero. Your life isn’t just your own, Mia. And I’m not just talking about the baby.”

The biggest, scariest part goes unspoken, but I hear it all the same.

You’re mine.

I can’t be without you.

It warms me up from the inside. Makes me feel loved again, safe again.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He squeezes my hand. I squeeze back.

And just like that, I feel like we’re gonna be okay.