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I downplay it and tell Ivan that it is probably just something I ate that did not agree with me. Convincing Ivan not to tell my father is easier than I thought, likely because he makes the food, and if it is indeed something I ate that made me sick, Ivan would be responsible. No one wants to endure the wrath of my father by shouldering the blame.
My reason for keeping my father in the dark is more selfish. Weakness is something that is not well received by him, and I will not dare give him a reason to start thinking of me as a problem that needs to be fixed.
That is a surefire way to get myself married off to one of his goons or for him to start making deals with business partners. I have been able to stave off the planning of such things up until now by being all but invisible, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as possible.
After five days of feeling like a bag of dicks and walking around lightheaded and dizzy, I decide it is time to visit the pharmacy. I tell Boris that I want to go for a drive to a park on the outskirts of my father’s domain where I am less likely to be recognized. Boris is one of the men who has been with my father the longest. He is a sweet man—as sweet as one can be in his line of work—and has always said I remind him of the daughter he never had. He is the one I get to take me shopping; he gives me more freedom than anyone else. He is not even mad when I give him the slip to go out now and then because I come back in one piece, and no one has ever caught on to it.
Even considering that, I do not dare mention the plan to visit the pharmacy; it would just end with me being told someone can get what I need for me. That means I would need to tell someone what is wrong, and it could get back to my father.
When we are close to the park, a pharmacy comes into view.
I lean forward so I can look at Boris. “Could we make a quick stop at that pharmacy?”
Boris meets my gaze in the rearview mirror before looking at the road again. “If you need something, we can have someone pick it up.”
“It seems like a waste for someone to make a trip when we are right here, don’t you think?” I give him the sweetest smile I can muster. “Please? I’ll be quick, I promise. I just want to pick up some womanly essentials. I’ll even get you some of those gelatin sweets you like so much.”
Boris looks at me for a moment before he shakes his head and smiles. “You really know how to butter me up, don’t you? Alright, just let me turn around.”
He follows me to the pharmacy door where I turn and hold a hand up. “You can wait here.”
“That is not a good idea,” he says as he shakes his head.
It is a good idea considering I do not want anyone knowing I am about five minutes away from dropping to the ground from dehydration and need meds to fix it.
“Did you not hear me saying ‘womanly’ essentials? Come on, Boris.” I motion to the building. “I’m only going inside. What’s the worst that can happen?”
His lips press into a firm line. After a beat, he nods reluctantly. “Fine. You have ten minutes.”
I put on the large sunglasses I bring for occasions like this and head inside. First, I stop in the feminine aisle, so I have something to corroborate my story, but I freeze before I grab a box of my regulars. My hand hovers inches from the shelf as my body goes cold with dread.
After some quick calculations, I come to the conclusion that I am late. Very late. About a month late. My pervy thoughts and dreams have been keeping me so occupied that I had not realized it. I run through the events of that night again, this time for a completely different reason. I do not remember us using a condom. Bile rises in my throat as a wave of nausea hits me. We didn’t use a condom. That would explain my symptoms. How could I have been so stupid?
Hands shaking, I grab a few boxes of feminine products I probably will not need for a good few months. After checking to make sure no one is watching, I grab a few different pregnancy tests too, tucking them under my arm before getting a load of electrolytes and pregnancy-safe pain tablets just in case.
I ask for a large brown paper bag to put everything in and clutch it to my chest as I walk out of the building.
When Boris sees me, he frowns. “What happened?”
“What?” I feel like I am on autopilot.
He grabs my shoulders and stares down at me. “You’re pale. What’s wrong?”
Swallowing, I shake my head. “I just realized I haven’t eaten today. I’m feeling a bit light-headed. Can we just go home, please?”
Boris does not seem happy, but he obliges, taking me home and walking me up to my room.
After he leaves, I head over to the bathroom and dump the contents of my bag on the vanity.
I open the different tests and pee on them one after the other, capping and lining them up in a row.
While I wait, I alternate between trying to convince myself that they are all going to be negative because it really is just something bad that I ate and berating myself for having fewer brain cells than a spoon for not using protection that night.
When the timer goes off, I trudge over to the counter and peer at the multiple sticks with their colored lines. Plural. Every one of them has two distinct lines in the window. Except for the digital ones; those are spelling it out along with a time frame, just in case I was unsure about how pregnant I am.
My legs buckle, and I grab the edge of the vanity.
I am pregnant. With a stranger's child.
