62. HEARTBEAT
VEERANSH:
When the doctor walked back into the cabin alone, my first instinct wasn't calm.
It was panic. "Where's Aarohi?" I asked immediately, standing up from the chair.
"She's resting inside," the doctor replied gently.
"Relax." I sat down again, but my fingers stayed tense against my knees.
"She's fine?" I asked quietly. "Yes," the doctor said. "She's healthy."
But she didn't stop there. "There are a few things we need to discuss.
" My chest tightened instantly. "Few things?
" I repeated carefully. She folded her hands on the table and looked directly at me.
"First, let me say clearly. There is no complication right now.
" Right now. I caught that wording immediately. "But?" I pressed.
"She doesn't need unnecessary stress," the doctor said calmly.
"I do," I replied without hesitation. She nodded slightly before opening the file again.
"Her vitals are stable. Blood levels are fine.
The previous weakness and infection are not affecting the pregnancy.
" I exhaled quietly at that. "But early-stage pregnancies are delicate.
Sometimes the body reacts unpredictably.
" My jaw tightened. "Miscarriage?" I asked bluntly.
"In some cases," she answered professionally.
"But I am not saying that is happening here. "
I leaned back slowly, forcing myself to stay calm.
"So why bring it up?" I asked. "Because awareness is important," she replied.
"Not panic. Just understanding." Then she paused for a second before continuing again.
"There's something else." My stomach tightened instantly.
"On the ultrasound, I observed something unusual.
" I stared at her carefully. "What?" She adjusted the papers once more. "It might be twins."
The word hit harder than expected. "Twins?
" I repeated slowly. She raised her hand slightly.
"I'm not confirming it yet. It's very early.
Sometimes shadows overlap during imaging.
" My mind started racing immediately. Two heartbeats.
Two lives. Two children. "Is that dangerous?
" I asked quietly. "Not necessarily," she answered.
"But it would require extra care and monitoring.
" I looked away for a second, trying to process everything.
"She's strong," the doctor continued gently. "But she'll need proper rest. No stress. No emotional pressure." I nodded once. "I understand." She closed the file and stood up. "Come," she said softly. "You should hear the heartbeat." My chest tightened again. "I can?" She smiled faintly. "Yes."
The sonography room was dim and cold, filled only with the soft hum of machines.
Aarohi was lying on the bed quietly, staring at the ceiling.
The moment she saw me, her face softened immediately.
"You took so long," she murmured. I stepped closer instinctively.
"You okay?" She nodded faintly. The doctor adjusted the machine again before placing the probe gently against her stomach.
For a few seconds there was only static sound.
Then suddenly it came. Fast. Tiny. Alive.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. My breath stopped completely.
That wasn't my heartbeat. It wasn't Aarohi's either.
It belonged to someone else. Someone impossibly small.
Someone who already existed before I was ready to understand it.
I moved closer to the bed without realizing it.
The sound echoed through the room again.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. "That's the heartbeat," the doctor said softly.
I stared at the screen even though I barely understood anything on it.
Just a small flicker. A tiny movement. Life.
Aarohi's eyes were already wet. I reached for her hand automatically and held it gently.
Her fingers felt cold, but she squeezed mine back.
For a second I thought I heard another faint rhythm beneath the first one.
Something softer. Almost like an echo. The doctor stayed silent about it.
She finished the scan quietly and printed the images before leaving us alone for a while.
The room suddenly felt too quiet after hearing that sound.
I looked down at Aarohi again. She looked smaller somehow. More fragile than before.
"How do you feel?" I asked softly. She smiled faintly through wet eyes.
"I heard it." I nodded slowly. "I know." Her fingers tightened around mine again.
"It's so fast," she whispered. "Yeah," I replied quietly.
Then she looked at me carefully. "You heard it too?
" I swallowed hard before nodding once more.
"Yes." She kept staring at my face as if waiting for something.
I leaned forward slowly until my forehead rested gently against hers.
"It's real," I whispered. She nodded softly.
"Yes." For a few seconds neither of us spoke.
I simply stood there listening to the memory of that tiny heartbeat inside my head.
I had signed contracts worth crores without hesitation.
I had made decisions that changed businesses overnight.
But this tiny sound had shaken me more than anything else in my life.
"You're quiet," she murmured after a while.
"I'm thinking," I admitted. "About what?
" she asked softly. I hesitated for a second.
I couldn't tell her about the possibility yet.
Not now. Not until confirmation. "I'm thinking," I said carefully, "that we have a lot to prepare for.
" She smiled faintly. "You sound scared. " I almost laughed. "Maybe I am."
She reached up slowly and touched my cheek.
"You'll be fine," she whispered. I squeezed her hand gently and looked at her again.
"You need to rest properly." She groaned softly.
"Again?" "Yes," I answered immediately. She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.
That tiny smile calmed something inside me.
When we stepped out of the hospital into the afternoon sunlight, the world somehow looked different.
The drive back home stayed quiet because she fell asleep barely ten minutes after sitting in the car.
Her head rested lightly against the window while one hand stayed protectively over her stomach even in sleep.
I glanced at her every few seconds while driving.
The tiny bandage on her wrist from the blood test bothered me more than it should have.
The doctor's words kept repeating in my mind.
It might be twins. Might. Not confirmed.
But possible. Aarohi already struggled with dizziness and exhaustion.
She barely finished meals without complaining.
She fell asleep in the middle of conversations.
How was her body supposed to carry two tiny lives?
My grip tightened slightly around the steering wheel at the thought.
When we finally reached the haveli, she still didn't wake up.
I walked around the car quietly and opened her door carefully.
"Aarohi," I murmured softly. No response.
She was deeply asleep. I unbuckled her seatbelt gently before lifting her into my arms. She stirred slightly against my chest. "Hmm.
.." "Shh," I whispered immediately. Her head rested against my shoulder again as I carried her inside.
Maa was standing near the entrance when I walked in.
"Did she fall asleep?" she asked softly.
"Yes," I replied quietly before taking Aarohi upstairs.
I laid her carefully on the bed, adjusted the pillow beneath her head, and pulled a light blanket over her.
For a moment I simply stood there watching her sleep before finally stepping out of the room.
Downstairs, Maa studied my face carefully.
"What did the doctor say?" she asked. "Everything is fine," I answered automatically.
"And?" she pressed gently. I stayed silent for a second too long.
Maa understood immediately. "Did you tell her?
" "The doctor said not to," I replied quietly.
Maa nodded slowly. "How long until confirmation?
" "Two months." She exhaled softly. "Then don't take tension before that. "
Easy to say. Hard to do.
Before I could answer, my phone rang. The doctor again.
I stepped aside immediately and answered.
"Hello?" "Mr. Sarkar," she said calmly, "I forgot to mention something.
We have a visiting foreign specialist tomorrow.
I'd prefer she checks Aarohi once as well.
" My chest tightened instantly. "Again? Why?
Is something wrong?" "No," she assured me.
"Everything looks fine. This is only precaution. "
Then her tone softened slightly. "You seem tense.
" "I'm not," I replied automatically. "You are," she corrected calmly.
I closed my eyes briefly before finally admitting it.
"She looks exhausted. One moment she's happy, the next she's completely drained.
" The doctor gave a small understanding hum.
"Hormonal changes are normal during pregnancy.
Mood swings, fatigue, emotional shifts. All of it.
" I rubbed my forehead slowly. "Daily?" "Yes," she answered calmly.
"Just support her. Don't react emotionally to every change. "
After the call ended, I stood near the staircase quietly for a long moment before finally going upstairs again.
She was still asleep exactly the same way I had left her.
Curled slightly on her side. Peaceful. Innocent.
Completely unaware of the storm inside my head.
I brushed a strand of hair away from her face gently. She shifted slightly but didn't wake.
A little later I brought food upstairs myself.
Simple khichdi. Soft and light. Doctor's instructions echoed constantly inside my mind now.
Small frequent meals. Proper rest. No stress.
I placed the tray on the table before sitting beside her again.
"Aarohi," I called softly. She frowned slightly before opening her eyes slowly.
"We're home?" she asked sleepily. "Yes," I replied.
She tried to sit up, and I immediately helped her.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she murmured.
"Like what?" "Like I might break." I looked away briefly before holding the spoon toward her.
"Eat first." She glanced at the tray and sighed softly.
"I'm not hungry." "I don't care." Normally she would argue more.
Today she didn't. Somehow that worried me even more.
I fed her slowly, one small spoonful at a time.
Between bites she leaned back tiredly against the pillow.
"You're very strict today," she whispered weakly.
"Tomorrow too," I replied calmly. She narrowed her eyes slightly but stayed quiet.
After a few more bites she pushed my hand away gently.
"Enough." "Few more." "No." "Aarohi." She sighed dramatically before finally eating two more spoonfuls.
After giving her water and medicines, I helped her lie down again.
She reached for my wrist before I could move away.
"Stay," she whispered softly. "I'm here," I answered immediately.
Within minutes her breathing slowed again as sleep pulled her under once more.
I stayed beside her longer than necessary, watching her carefully.
Not thinking about business meetings. Not about family functions.
Not about anything except her. Her exhaustion.
Her softness. The possibility of two heartbeats.
Whether her body could handle it. Whether I could.
I rested my hand lightly against her stomach and closed my eyes briefly. "Be strong," I whispered quietly.
I wasn't sure whether I was talking to her, to the tiny lives inside her, or to myself.
Because right now my fear wasn't about reports or medical terms. It was about her. Her fragility. Her innocence. Her stubborn little smile. The way she tried to hide her exhaustion. And how desperately I wanted to protect her from everything, even from her own body if I could.
Tomorrow would bring another hospital visit. Another test. Another waiting period. Another uncertainty.
But tonight she was sleeping peacefully beside me.
And for now, that was enough.