10

“I remembered your bitter first-time experience, so I decided to handle my fate my way — with a professional,” I said, eyes fixed on the cup, realizing I’d made a huge mistake.

“Oh, a professional, huh? Right…” Marina snapped, anger flashing in her face. I felt so awful I finally couldn’t hold back and started to cry.

Seeing me like that, Marina softened and sat down beside me, pulling me into an embrace.

“So what are you going to do?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” I sniffed. “I need to think.”

“Think? What is there to think about?” she scoffed. “Why keep some mystery hitchhiker you don’t even know? You can get rid of it quickly while there’s still time.”

Her words clicked something inside me like a switch. The suggestion unleashed a rush of anger and outrage I couldn’t control — she was calmly talking about killing my baby. Imagining what I would have to go through made my heart clench with unbearable pain.

“Get out!” I spat at her, furious. “That’s my child, my body, and I will decide what to do — without poisonous friends telling me what they think I should do! I need a steady shoulder and support right now, no venomous comments about what you think I must do!”

“I’m just saying, if I were you—” she started.

“You’re not me!” I barked. “When you are me, then you can decide!”

“Do whatever you want then!” Marina pouted, rising dramatically and storming off.

I was left alone with my thoughts and my decision.

And now, looking at my two tiny little lives, I don’t regret for a single second that I decided to keep them. Yes, it was hard… no, that’s not right — it is and always has been very hard, because I’m on my own, and there are two of them. But my parents helped me — and still do — more than I could ever have asked for.

At first, my mom even lived with me for a while. And later, our nanny became a real lifesaver — she was recommended by my lovely neighbor. Valentina is her old friend, a kind woman in her fifties with enormous experience caring for children.

So here I am, living like a hamster on a wheel. I used to think my life was a constant race — now it’s even more of one. Luckily, my workplace was very understanding and didn’t send me on maternity leave when I asked to stay. I’m one of the best specialists there, so they agreed to reduce my hours and hire another girl — Polina — to share my duties. Losing this job is not an option, especially now that my family has grown and every penny counts. So I survive with the help of my family, friends, and, of course, our nanny.

Naturally, I didn’t drag Danil into my mess. I refused his offer to be his girlfriend — why burden someone else with my problems?

He took my rejection like a real man and didn’t disappear from my life. We stayed friends, and later he found out the real reason why I had turned him down. One way or another, Danil is still there — always caring, always helping.

Of course, I couldn’t hide the pregnancy for long. I’m petite, and my belly grew fast — no wonder, since at my first ultrasound they dropped the bomb that I was carrying twins.

One of the hardest things was — and still is — answering the endless curious questions: “So, who’s the lucky daddy?”

My standard reply is, “An astronaut,” and that usually shuts everyone up.

I never told my parents who the father of my boys really is. Naturally, they didn’t like that and decided that I’d had some tragic love story where a heartless man abandoned me.

It’s not like I can tell them their perfect daughter — smart, responsible, the pride of the family — had a one-night stand with a professional and ended up pregnant… with twins!

As for what I’ll tell the boys when they grow up — I don’t know yet. But I still have some time to figure that out.

Only Marina knows the truth. Speaking of her — about a week after our falling-out, she met up with me and apologized for what she said. Of course, she did it in that special Marina way — like she was doing me a favor by saying sorry. But knowing her, that alone was a shocker. For her, even that counts as a grand gesture.

Quickly getting ready, feeding and dressing Andry and Egor, I grab the double stroller and head out. For easier mobility, my parents bought me a small, compact Hyundai — perfect for fitting in both baby carriers and all the other stuff.

“Get outside, I can’t handle this alone,” I say into the phone as I pull up to the Farmanta building, where I work. Polina was the one who got herself into trouble — so now she can help me with mine.

“You do realize that bringing kids here is totally not allowed, right? And I didn’t call the nanny today,” I mutter, handing Polina the carrier with Egor and lifting Andry myself, hoping to appeal to her common sense.

“I know! I just don’t understand why it’s not reacting! I’m doing everything right!” the curly redhead frets.

“Don’t yell,” I hush her, lowering my voice. “Don’t draw attention to us — we’ll figure it out. Maybe you just got a defective batch of the medication.”

We enter the company building, show our passes, and head toward the elevators. Oddly enough, to reach our lab, you don’t go up but down — it’s one floor below ground level. After a few turns, we arrive at our section.

Farmanta is a pharmaceutical company that manufactures various medical products, and our department is responsible for quality control. Before any batch hits the market, our team meticulously tests it for defects or inconsistencies. It’s crucial work — both for people’s health and the company’s reputation.

I set the baby carriers away from the work surfaces and see that Andry is already asleep, while Egor is still awake but starting to drift off. Perfect.

I put on my lab coat just as I hear footsteps entering the lab — confident, steady, distinctly male. My heart sinks to my heels the moment I see the one person I’d been hoping not to run into today.