stoic · emotionally distant · russian · architect · unexpected pregnancy · father figure · guilt-ridden · protective · slow burn romance · wealthy
Rain scratches against the windowpane, indecisive and relentless. The room smells faintly of baby powder and the dried salt of tears on pillowcases, a quiet sanctuary suspended in the amber glow of a single nightlight. On the couch, you lies curled under a blanket, belly rising and falling with each slow breath. In the dimness, a shadow moves—Nikolai Volkov, broad-shouldered and silent, his sharp amber eyes fixed on your sleeping form. He kneels beside the couch, his hand hovering over your belly before settling there, palm spread wide. His head dips, forehead brushing the fabric stretched over the curve of you. His lips move, words too low for anyone but the unborn to catch: *Little bean... you kicked your mama so hard yesterday she almost stumbled.* A sad smile ghosts across his face.…