17. Almost Lost The Baby #2
Satyam nodded and left immediately.
Shivika lay still through everything. Her fingers curled around his.
Once the IV was started and fluids began flowing, Shivika's breathing slowly steadied. Her trembling reduced.
Dr. Pratibha stepped aside with Rakshit.
"This didn't happen suddenly," she said honestly. "This is cumulative. High mental stress, suppressed emotional pain, constant anxiety."
Rakshit swallowed hard.
"She cried today. A lot. Past memories."
"That explains it," the doctor said gently. "Stress hormones directly affect pregnancy. She's lucky you brought her in time or if this had continued any longer, it could have caused serious complications for the baby."
Rakshit felt his chest tighten the moment the words left her mouth.
Serious complications for the baby.
For a few seconds, he couldn't breathe.
His eyes moved on their own, straight to Shivika's hand resting near her stomach. That small rise and fall of her breath suddenly felt fragile.
His fingers trembled.
'If this had continued any longer...'
He didn't let the sentence finish inside his head.
His throat burned. His jaw clenched hard as he looked away, blinking rapidly, but it didn't help. His vision blurred anyway.
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to hold himself together, but his chest gave in first. A shaky breath escaped him.
"We'll monitor her closely," Dr. Pratibha continued. "Complete mental rest is not optional. Any further stress can put both her and the baby at risk."
Rakshit nodded slowly.
Dr. Pratibha gave a small nod and left instructions with the nurses.
Shivika was shifted to a private room- quiet, dim, calm.
The medicines worked gradually. Her body finally began to relax. Exhaustion overtook her.
She fell asleep without realizing it. Still holding his hand. Rakshit didn't move for hours.
When he finally felt her grip loosen slightly, he waited.
Long. Careful.
Only then did he gently free his hand and step outside.
The corridor was empty.
Rakshit's legs gave up.
He didn't make it to the chair.
He slid down the wall and fell onto the cold hospital floor, his back hitting it softly, like his body no longer had the strength to hold itself upright.
For a second, he just sat there, stunned, eyes wide, breath uneven.
And then-
It broke.
A strangled sound escaped his chest as his hands came up to his face. His shoulders started shaking violently, his breathing turning erratic, painful.
He tried to stop it.
Tried to inhale properly.
He couldn't.
"I… I didn't know," he choked out, his voice trembling. "I swear I didn't know."
Tears poured down his face uncontrollably, soaking his palms, dripping onto the floor.
His chest hurt like someone had pressed all the air out of him at once.
He had just learned what it felt like to be loved.
After years of emptiness, after believing he was incapable of warmth, Shivika had held his broken pieces with so much care.
She had given him a reason to wake up without dread. A reason to believe in tomorrow.
And now-
He dropped his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling through blurred vision.
His hands trembled as he dragged them down his face.
His breath hitched violently, pain tearing through him.
His sobs grew quieter, deeper, settling into his chest, carving something permanent inside him.
Slowly… very slowly, Rakshit's sobs began to fade.
Not because the pain was gone but because something stronger rose above it.
She needs me.
That thought grounded him.
Shivika was fighting inside that room. Their child was fighting. And right now, they didn't need a man broken on the floor.
They needed him.
Rakshit drew a shaky breath and pushed himself up, his hands brushing against the wall for support. His legs still felt weak, but his resolve was firm now.
He walked toward the washroom at the end of the corridor, his steps quiet, measured. The mirror reflected a man with red eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and a pain that couldn't be washed away.
But he tried anyway.
Cold water splashed against his face. Once. Twice. Again. He leaned over the sink, breathing slowly, steadying himself.
"Pull yourself together," he whispered. "They need you."
He wiped his face carefully, making sure no trace of his breakdown remained. He couldn't let her see this.
Not now. Not when she needed calm, safety, strength.
When he walked back into her room, the lights were dim.
Shivika lay peacefully, lost in medicated sleep. Her face looked softer now, calmer. The steady rise and fall of her chest felt like the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
Rakshit walked to her bedside quietly and sat down.
For a moment, he just watched her.
Then he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Once.
A promise.
He kissed her again.
Twice.
A prayer.
And then again.
Thrice.
This one lingered a little longer, his lips resting there as his eyes closed.
As if he needed to be sure.
His hand moved instinctively to her stomach, resting there with reverence.
"I'm here," he whispered softly.
"I'm not going anywhere."
He brushed his thumb lightly over her temple, careful not to wake her.
Just then, the door opened softly.
Rakshit didn't turn.
His eyes were still on Shivika.
"S-sir… I came back," Satyam said quietly, lowering his voice the moment he saw Shivika sleeping. "But I didn't find you here."
"I went to the washroom," Rakshit replied, just as softly. His gaze never left her face. Not even for a second.
There was a pause.
"You can go home now," Rakshit said after a moment, his voice calm, almost distant. "It's late."