So whatever words I speak have to be compelling enough to make the scales tip over to my side.
Incongruous but urgent, a movie scene pops into my head. It’s from The Princess Bride, a movie Naz and I often quoted to each other, a fairy tale about a boy who loved a girl so much he successfully begged for his life from the pirate who wanted to kill him by saying two words. Two simple words that spun the wheel of fate in a different direction. Two simple words of truth.
My eyes filling with tears, I whisper, “True love.”
Pakhan’s expression sours. He turns again to Stefan. “She’s definitely simple.”
“No.” Stefan steps forward, coming to stand next to me. He faces Pakhan with respect but no sign of fear. He says, “She’s pregnant. It’s not Dimitri’s.”
A ripple of surprise goes through the
