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Nikolai turns to me. “You should go home and rest.”

I nod. “All right.”

He looks as if he expects me to say something else, but I have no idea what I could say in front of Viktor and Irina. I walk toward the lifts and keep my eyes on the doors.

Outside, Galina is waiting beside the car. She opens the rear door for me, and I get in without speaking.

As I settle into the seat, I check my bag.

My wallet is there. My keys are there. My makeup pouch is there.

Then my fingers close around the pregnancy test. I push it deeper into the bag and look out of the window.

While we were waiting outside Anya’s room, the nurse asks me to move my bag from the chair. I open it and find the packet of painkillers I bought before my last period. I remember carrying it around for days, waiting for the cramps to start.

They never did.

I look at the date on the hospital form in the nurse’s hand and count backward, slowly at first, then again because I must have miscalculated.

My period is a week late. I’m never late. Not by a day, and certainly not by a week.

I almost left the pharmacy without buying it.

I stood in front of the shelf, staring at the tests while people moved around me. I had enough on my plate with Anya and everything that had transpired since this morning. This was the last thing I needed.

The only time Nikolai and I had sex without protection was the first time. It was almost six weeks ago, before we started being careful. There’s no way one careless night could have caused this.

I go back because I cannot sit through the journey home with the question growing in my head. Whatever the result is, I need to know.

I repeat that to myself as the car leaves the hospital.

There’s no way.

Galina glances at me through the mirror.

I give her a small smile. “I’m fine.”

She looks at the bag on my lap, then at my face. She doesn’t ask anything.

The house is quiet when we arrive. I wait until Galina has gone toward the kitchen before taking the test upstairs.

I lock the bathroom door and take the test from my bag.

My hands are shaking so badly that I nearly drop it. I set it on the counter, read the instructions again, then read them a third time because I cannot remember what I am supposed to do next.

I know what the result could mean. I have known since I counted the days in the car but knowing it in theory is different from standing alone in a bathroom with a test in my hand.

I follow the instructions and place it beside the sink. Then I step away.

The bathroom is too quiet. I can hear the pipes inside the wall and someone moving downstairs. I stare at the closed door and try to think of something else, but my mind keeps returning to the same night.

The first time. It cannot be this.

I look at the test.

Only two minutes have passed.

I wash my hands, dry them, and sit on the edge of the bathtub. The result is still not ready, but my body already feels different.