After one year—
For the past year, I haven't been able to stop thinking about our baby. How will he look? Will he have Vaishank's eyes or mine? I imagine us playing together, me feeding him, singing him lullabies, and struggling to sleep while he giggles between us.
Life has been nothing less than a fairytale. Vaishank treats me like a queen. He never lets me lift a finger — the maid handles the chores while he makes sure I stay happy, safe, and calm. Sometimes, I feel like a pampered child under his care.
Tonight, I watched him sitting on the floor, pressing my legs while the TV flickered softly in front of us. My belly had grown heavy now, round and full of life. "Will you still love me after the baby comes?" I teased, my voice light.
He looked up, smiling — that smile that still makes my heart flutter. "Of course," he said simply, placing a soft kiss on my knees.
I chuckled — until a sudden, sharp pain twisted my stomach. "Aahh…" I gasped, my hand clutching my abdomen.
In an instant, Vaishank was on his feet. "Amrita? What happened?" His voice trembled as his hands found mine.
"My… abdomen… hurts," I stammered, gripping his arm tight.
He didn't waste a second. "Hold on, Amrita. We'll get to the hospital soon," he said, leading me to the lift with a steady arm, though I could feel his panic through his clenched jaw.
"Arghh… I can't, Vaishank…" I panted, my breath coming in short bursts.
"You can," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, "just hold on a bit more."
The drive felt endless. Every second stretched with pain and fear. When we reached the hospital, nurses rushed toward me, placing me on a stretcher. I could see Vaishank beside me — his face pale, his hand clutching mine as if afraid to let go.
Inside the delivery room, everything blurred — lights, voices, movement.
"Hold my hand, Amrita," he said softly.
I tried, but my strength was fading. My body was trembling, breath uneven, mind screaming for relief. The pain tore through me — wild, unbearable. It felt like my body was splitting apart, something stuck deep inside struggling to break free.
"Push a little harder," the doctor's voice urged.
Tears streamed down my face. My spine burned, every muscle ached, and my chest felt hollow. When will this pain end? I thought helplessly. Then came one last push — one last scream — and everything went silent.
Darkness took over.
---
A faint beep pulled me back to consciousness. My eyelids fluttered open to a soft, sterile light. The first thing I saw was Vaishank — standing beside a tiny crib, his eyes glistening as he looked down at something so delicate, so small.
"Vaishank…" I whispered, my lips dry.
He turned instantly, rushing to my side. His hand brushed my hair gently. "You're awake… Are you okay?"
I nodded weakly. He smiled — that same soft, teary smile — and said, "Meet Junior Vaishank."
He lifted the tiny bundle carefully and placed him in my arms.
The world stopped. His skin was soft and pink, his tiny fingers curling slightly, his lips quivering in a half-dream. The little nose, the fragile eyes trying to open — everything about him made my heart ache with wonder.
"He looks exactly like you," I whispered, tears slipping down my cheeks.
Vaishank chuckled softly and pressed a kiss on my forehead.
Soon, our parents arrived — his mom, his dad, and mine. The room filled with joy and laughter as they surrounded the baby, already planning his future — school holidays, names, toys. My mom playfully argued about who'd get to keep him longer, and Vaishank's mother wouldn't stop smiling.
Amid all their laughter, I leaned my head on Vaishank's shoulder. His arm slipped around me protectively, his thumb drawing soft circles on my arm.
"Thank you," he murmured near my ear. "For giving me this precious gift."
I smiled, feeling warmth bloom in my chest. "Anything for us," I whispered.
He tightened his hold, and for a moment, the world outside didn't exist — just me, him, and the tiny heartbeat between us.