Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You Chapter 53: Chocolate

Sarah

Once I get ho, I go to look for Marishka in the kitchen.

She is already there, her back turned as she instructs our live-in maid to gather the ingredients.

"What are you making tonight, Marishka?" I ask. I never intended Marishka to cook for us, too, and I wanted to hire a cook, but Marishka insisted on feeding us herself. Not that I mind. Her cooking is the best!

Marishka turns, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Stuffed bell peppers with rice and ground beef. And I made a pot of borscht for tomorrow."

I grin, stepping closer. "You spoil us, you know that?"

She waves a hand dismissively. "Nonsense. Cooking keeps busy. Besides, I like knowing you’re eating well."

The maid quietly continues gathering ingredients as I lean against the counter. "I need to tell you about sothing."

Marishka wipes her hands on a towel and turns her full attention to . "What is it, Sweetheart?"

I take a deep breath. "I should’ve told you this first since you are like a mother to , but...I don’t know..."

Marishka cos closer and places her hand on mine. "It’s okay, sweetie. Just tell what’s wrong."

"Nothing is wrong. I am...I am pregnant, Marishka," I say and exhale slowly.

Marishka’s eyes widen, and for a mont, she just stares at . Then, her expression lightens.

"Oh, my sweet girl," she murmurs, squeezing my hands. "You’re having a baby."

I nod, my throat tightening. "Yes. And I’m scared."

Marishka’s gaze searches mine before she gently pulls into a hug. "Oh, sweetheart, I wish you had told sooner."

Tears sting my eyes as I cling to her. "I wanted to. I just... I was afraid. I don’t know why."

She pulls back slightly, her hands on my shoulders. "You have nothing to be scared of. You have . And you have Matthew."

I let out a shaky breath. But I don’t have Matthew. But Marishka wouldn’t understand that. And I wouldn’t tell her how he hates and wants to deny our baby.

She cups my cheek, her eyes glistening. "Have you told Matthew?"

I swallow hard. "Yes."

"You should’ve told sooner. I would’ve made sothing more special for dinner," Marishka chirps.

I laugh despite my solemn mood. "What you made is just perfect."

"Oh! Maybe I will make your and Matthew’s favorite dessert. It turns out you both happen to love cheesecake," she says.

I raise an eyebrow. "How do you know Matthew likes cheesecake?"

"Why, I asked, of course. It’s my job to take care of you both and make sure you are fat and happy," she says.

I laugh at her eagerness, shaking my head. "You really do spoil us."

Marishka waves off playfully as she turns back to her cooking. "It’s what I do best."

I watch her for a mont, the warmth of her presence easing so of my worries. If only things were as simple as she made them seem. If only Matthew looked at with love instead of contempt.

Marishka hums. "Sit down. Keep company while I cook."

I pull out a stool and rest my elbows on the counter. "Did you always know you wanted to get a job as a nanny?"

Marishka chuckles, her hands expertly coring bell peppers. "Not at all. I studied literature. I wanted to be a professor."

"Really? I didn’t know that," I say and gaze at her curiously. I never really talked to Marishka about her past before. She had always been so closed off about it.

"Many things change in life," she says. "After university, I t my Ivan. We married, planned for children." Her knife pauses briefly. "But God had other plans."

I watch her carefully.

"After Ivan died, I decide to start over." She shrugs. "Found I had talent with children. They speak truth when adults only speak nonsense."

The maid silently places a bowl of ground beef beside Marishka, then retreats to clean vegetables.

"And now," Marishka continues, brightening, "I have you. And soon, little one." She gestures toward my stomach with her wooden spoon.

I place a hand over my stomach. "You really see as family, don’t you?"

Marishka stops stirring for a mont, her gaze softening. "Of course, sweetheart."

The lump in my throat grows, and I blink quickly to keep my tears at bay. "But how co you never remarried and have your own children?"

Marishka sighs, her expression growing distant as she sets the spoon down. "So loves cannot be replaced," she says softly. "Ivan was my heart, my ho. When he was gone... I did not want to find another. It did not seem right."

I nod, absorbing her words. "That sounds... lonely."

She smiles faintly. "Perhaps. But loneliness is not the worst thing. I have had joy, too. Watching you grow, taking care of you—it has given purpose."

I bite my lip. "You deserve more than just purpose, Marishka. You deserve love, too."

Marishka chuckles, shaking her head. "Love cos in many forms, sweetheart. I may not have had children of my own, but I have you. And soon, your baby. That is love enough for ."

Her words wrap around like a warm embrace. I wish I wish Matthew could love too and not refuse to see this baby as sothing worth celebrating.

"Now, what kind of cheesecake do you want?" Marishka asks.

I smile, pushing aside my thoughts for the mont. "Hmm... classic New York-style with strawberry topping."

Marishka grins. "Good choice. And Matthew’s favorite?"

I hesitate, my fingers curling against the counter. "I... I don’t actually know."

Marishka tuts, shaking her head. "A sha! A wife should know such things."

I let out a hollow laugh. "I don’t think he considers his wife, Marishka."

She stops mid-motion, her gaze locking onto mine. "Nonsense. You carry his child. You are his wife. What a ridiculous thing to say!"

I press my lips together, unsure how to respond. "Yeah, you are right. I am being silly. He should be ho right about now. I will ask him."

Marishka nods approvingly, returning to her cooking. "Good girl. Communication is key. Even with the most stubborn of n."

I force a small smile, though uncertainty twists inside .

As I push away from the counter, I take a steadying breath. The sound of the front door opening startles , and my pulse quickens.

Matthew is ho.

Marishka glances at and winks. "Go on, then. Greet your husband."

I nod and step into the hallway, where Matthew is shrugging off his coat. He looks up at .

I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. "Matthew... do you like cheesecake?"

He raises an eyebrow, caught off guard. "Cheesecake?"

I nod. "Marishka is making so. She wanted to know your favorite kind."

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. I guess... chocolate?"

I blink. "Chocolate?"

He shrugs. "Yeah. Why?"

I shake my head quickly. "No reason. Just... wanted to know."

He studies for a mont, as if trying to figure out why I’m asking such a random question. Then, without another word, he turns toward the stairs.

I swallow the lump in my throat, watching him go. He didn’t ask how my day was. Didn’t ask about the baby.

I let Marishka know and head to the bedroom to see him.