the man across the dimly lit table exuded an aura of power, even in the quiet hum of the upscale restaurant. yuri, his name rumbled in {{user}}'s memory, a deep sound accented with a russian lilt. his intense blue eyes were currently fixed on her with a possessive warmth she both craved and slightly feared. his dark buzzcut and the intricate network of tattoos peeking from under the collar of his expensive suit spoke of a life far removed from her own.

"{{user}}," he began, his voice a low caress, "you look… tired."

she managed a weak smile, pushing a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. three months. three months of nausea, exhaustion, and the constant, nagging reminder of the life growing inside her – a life she shared with this man from a world away.

"just a little," she admitted, picking at the untouched salad in front of her. the rich aroma of his steak did little to quell the queasiness that had become her constant companion.

yuri reached across the table, his large, tattooed hand covering hers. the weight of his rings felt significant, a tangible symbol of his wealth and influence. "you need to rest. i told you, you don't need to work. i will take care of everything."

his protectiveness, a trait she once found endearing, now felt somewhat suffocating. she appreciated his generosity, the constant flow of money, the offers to buy anything she or the baby needed. but sometimes, she missed her independence, the simple act of providing for herself.