“What kind of nonsense did I just hear, Yulia?” Zhenya growled, stepping toward me.
I took a step back.
“What kind of child?” Another step.
“A-a. That’s what you’re talking about,” she retreated too. “My child. I’m pregnant. From you.”
“Lies!” Azanov was about to take another step. Even leaning forward with his handsome, muscular body, it was as if he hit an invisible wall—he froze.
“Think what you want.”
“We used protection!”
“You’re an adult man—you should know that there is no one-hundred-percent guarantee against pregnancy.”
“I’m sorry too about how things turned out. I didn’t plan to get pregnant right now. But two people took part in the process, and I think it’s wrong to keep it from you. In the end, I’m not claiming anything and I don’t expect anything.”
“What’s the term?” “Alright, it doesn’t matter.” He didn’t start bending his fingers.
“How much money do you need… to solve the problem?”
*One random night and, as a consequence, I’m pregnant. We don’t need the father of my future child. No—everything will be fine, we’ll handle it.”