I stirred awake to the now-familiar emptiness beside me, the sheets cool where Miko should have been. It was the second morning in a row she'd slipped out early, but this time, the thought that I might be a father chased away any unease. A smile tugged at my lips as I lay there, staring at the ceiling. A kid—our kid. Hybrid or not, it didn't matter. The idea filled me with a quiet happiness I hadn't known in years, a warmth that spread through my chest like the morning sun filtering through the curtains.
The bathroom door creaked open, and there she was, Miko emerging with a small stick in her hand, her tail swishing nervously behind her. Her eyes met mine, wide and sparkling, and she held up the test. Two lines—positive.
"It's... it's real," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of joy and awe.
I bolted upright, crossing the room in two strides to pull her into my arms. I hugged her with every ounce of happiness I could muster, lifting her off her feet as she laughed, her claws digging lightly into my back. "We're having a baby," I murmured into her hair, the words feeling surreal and perfect all at once. She clung back, her body shaking with giggles and tears, and in that moment, everything clicked. By now, our house on the hillside was nearly ready—the crew had promised handover in days. And my Bulgarian? Still shit, but hopefully it'd get better with time. For now, this was enough.
The day unfolded with that glow lingering. Miko headed out to hang with Elena and Sylvia, the three of them buzzing about the news. I caught snippets as they left—Elena's teasing grin, Sylvia's excited hugs. They were happy for us, planning baby names over coffee in the square, weaving into Zemen's hybrid-friendly vibe like they'd always belonged.
Me? I had a plan brewing. I'd heard locals raving about a secluded cabin by a nearby lake—crystal waters, pine forests, the kind of spot perfect for unwinding. Why not? We deserved a getaway before the house move and... everything else. I booked it secretly online, a cozy rental for a few days, complete with a fireplace and lake views. Kept it under wraps, excitement building as I imagined her reaction.
A few days later, everything was set. The house keys were in my pocket—final walkthrough done, our new home waiting. I told Miko over breakfast, "Pack a bag for a few days. Got a surprise for you."
Her ears perked up, curiosity lighting her eyes. "What is it?"
"You'll see," I grinned, kissing her forehead.
She called work, her fluent Bulgarian flowing effortlessly as she explained. They were cool about it—gave her the time off no questions asked. We loaded the car, her hand on her belly protectively, and hit the road as the sun climbed high.
The drive was scenic, winding through hills dotted with wildflowers, but the radio crackled to life midway, shattering the peace. A urgent Bulgarian broadcast filled the car—words like "Rusiya," "udar," "Rumuniya," and something about "treta svetovna voyna." Russia striking Romania? World War III breaking out? My Bulgarian was still garbage; I caught fragments, piecing it together like a bad puzzle. The USA civil war spilling over, Russia escalating from Ukraine... now this. It sounded apocalyptic, but I couldn't grasp the details.
Miko's face paled, her tail coiling tight around her leg. "Did you hear that?" she asked, voice laced with worry. "Russia hit Romania. They say it's WW3—full-scale."
I glanced at her, squeezing her hand. "Hey, we're safe here. Zemen's tucked away. Let's not let it ruin the trip."
She nodded, but the tension lingered, her claws tapping nervously on the dash.
We arrived at the cabin as night fell, the lake a dark mirror reflecting stars, the air crisp with pine scent. It was perfect—wooden walls, a crackling fire I'd started, and a big bed overlooking the water. We unpacked lightly, exhaustion from the drive settling in.
In bed, Miko clung to me tighter than usual, her body pressed flush against mine, her tail wrapping around my waist like a lifeline. Her warmth, her scent—it grounded me amid the world's chaos. "Thank you for this," she whispered, nuzzling my neck. "No matter what happens out there... we're okay."
I held her close, my hand resting on her belly, the promise of our family a shield against the storm. Sleep came slow, the lake's gentle laps a lullaby, but with her there, it felt like home.