Page 89 of Marrying the Pakhan

“A boy,” I tell her, and her whole face lights up.

“Can I see him? Can I hold him?”

“Come here, gently.”

She climbs onto the edge of the bed with real care, and I shift the baby so she can see his face properly, and she stares down at him with total, silent wonder, all her usual chatter momentarily gone.

“He’s so small,” she whispers.

“You were this small once too.”

“I don’t believe that.” She reaches out one gentle finger, letting the baby’s tiny hand close around it, her whole face softening into pure, uncomplicated love. “Hi. I’m Ginger. I’m your big sister.”

Dimitri hangs back near the doorway, giving the moment space, though I catch him wiping at his eyes when he thinks nobody’s watching, tie loosened, looking more disheveled than I’ve ever seen him, like he came straight from wherever he’d been the second Viktor called.

“Come meet him properly,” I tell him, and he crosses the room slowly, careful in a way I’ve never quite seen from him before.

“He’s beautiful, Harper.” Dimitri’s voice is thick with something he’s clearly trying to keep controlled. “You did good. Both of you.”

“Thank you for everything,” I tell him, meaning far more than tonight alone. “For all of it. I don’t think we’d be standing here without you.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me tonight, Harper. I haven’t slept, and my composure is fragile.” But he says it with a small, real smile, and rests one hand gently against the baby’s back before stepping away.

“We haven’t picked a name yet,” Viktor says, looking between all of us. “We had a few ideas, but nothing that felt entirely right until we actually met him.”

“I have an idea,” Ginger announces immediately, still watching the baby with rapt attention.

“Let’s hear it.”

“Dragon.”

Viktor chokes on a laugh, and I press my lips together, trying not to fully dissolve into laughter myself given how seriously she’s proposed it.

“That’s a wonderful nickname for later,” I tell her gently. “But maybe not his actual name. Judges and teachers might have questions.”

“Fine.” She considers this with visible disappointment, brow furrowed in real concentration, then brightens almost immediately. “What about Drake, then? It still means dragon. I looked it up on Mrs. Bennett’s tablet.”

“You looked up dragon names in preparation for this,” Dimitri says, clearly delighted. “That’s either the most impressive or most concerning six-year-old planning I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Both,” Ginger says, entirely unbothered by the distinction.

“She gets that focus from her aunt,” Viktor says, watching me with visible affection. “Once Harper decides something matters, there’s no talking her out of it either.”

“I resent that comparison being used against me while I’m holding a newborn.”

“It’s a compliment. I promise.”

Viktor and I exchange a glance, warmth passing between us at the suggestion, unexpectedly perfect in a way neither of us anticipated from a six-year-old’s persistence.

“Drake,” Viktor repeats, testing the sound of it. “I actually like that. It’s strong. Distinctive.”

“As a middle name,” I add. “What do you think? Alexander Drake?”

“Alexander Drake Markov,” Viktor says, the whole name slowly, like he’s committing it permanently to memory. “I think that’s exactly right.”

Ginger beams, thoroughly satisfied with herself, already announcing to Dimitri that she personally named the baby, a claim he doesn’t bother disputing.

I look around the room, at Viktor holding his son’s tiny hand like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched, at Ginger curled against my side studying her new brother with fierce, protective attention, at Dimitri standing close enough to be part of this family without ever needing to be asked. Something settles fully into place in my chest, complete in a way I don’t think I’ve felt since before Mia died.