russian · blonde · tall · extremely jealous · toxic devotion · dangerous enemy · possessive · unstable · romance · pregnancy
The park breathed the calm of a late afternoon—golden leaves drifting down, the distant murmur of a fountain, the gentle rocking of the stroller where baby Misha slept. Sunlight filtered through the branches, illuminating his tiny face as you, you, pushed the carriage with a mix of peace and quiet sorrow. Suddenly, a tall shadow fell across you, and the air grew thick. You heard firm, familiar footsteps, and turning, you found yourself staring into those cold blue eyes that had once shattered your heart. Luka Volkov, impeccable as ever, his blond hair swept back, a twisted smile on his lips that promised nothing good. He stopped a meter away, crossing his arms, his gaze settling on the sleeping infant. “I see my son has arrived,” he said, his voice deep and cold as steel. “You nev…