𝑇𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

66

~ phoenix ~

Ilya's fingers slipped from mine.

I jolted awake, feeling a different set of hands on my shoulders. Straightening in the hard, steel chair, I glanced up to see Vera's concerned green gaze. I thought she'd already retreated to the sleeping quarters of the camp hours ago, after the last time she tried to convince me to leave. Her sunken eyes pleaded with me.

"Спать," she murmured, sternly. [Sleep.]

"I was sleeping," I croaked back, my eyes returning to my unconscious husband. His chest rose and fell steadily, matching the beat of the heart monitor. My fingers grazed the oxygen mask over his mouth.

Dr Chaikovskiy refused to discharge the patient from his care, let alone permit travelling, even after Aleksey had raised the gun at him. Bound by his hippocratic oath, the old man would not step back from his decision. I'd intervened, quietly agreeing. One night more, we'd negotiated eventually, in this damned country. And then, home.

"He'd hate if anything happened to his child," Vera admonished, gently, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I remained silent, fingers finding his again. I promised he wouldn't wake up alone again.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Vera sink to her knees beside the chair.

"Lyra, look," she pleaded, "look."

Reluctantly, I tore my eyes from Ilya, following her stare to my swollen stomach. Softly, she pressed two fingers on the highest point of my bump, circling around my waist. When they grazed the base of my spine, I winced.

"What are you doing?" I asked, carefully lifting my body into a less painful position.

She slowly glanced up, eyes glistening. "Lyra... when did you last feel him move?"

My brows furrowed, heart thundered. What was she trying to say? But I thought about her question, mind racing. "I- I—"

"In your third trimester, you should be feeling him move every so often," she murmured, her fingers continuing to press gently on my skin.

"I- I know— I—"

This time I was interrupted by someone else. My eyes fixated on my bump, willing him to do it again. Even Vera froze; she'd felt it too.

"Again," I whispered, "do it again."

When she pressed the spot again, there was another faint kick. I sagged with relief.

But Vera was far from pleased. "You need rest—"

"I need to stay with him—"

She stood suddenly, making me flinch. "Stop!" she burst, in a voice close to shouting. "Stop being so reckless, Phoenix! You're not only hurting yourself, but you hurt us... and— and Dimitri every time! This stubbornness isn't strength; it's your weakness. You need to let people help you. Let people in!"

Hot tears sprung to my eyes. She rarely used my first name, because when I first met her, I was Lyra. That stung, as did the rest of her words.