80. HOSPITAL VISIT
I step out of the hospital cabin slowly, like my feet have suddenly forgotten how to move properly. The doctor's words are still echoing in my ears"only fifteen days left... after that, any time. And Aarohi, no stress. If you feel even slight pain, you come immediately. Don't wait."
Fifteen days. My hand instinctively moves to my stomach, pressing lightly as if I'm trying to feel them more clearly, as if I need reassurance that they're still there, still safe, still mine two tiny lives inside me.
For a moment, everything around me feels too loud the hallway, footsteps, distant voices, the sound of a trolley being pushed.
I blink slowly, trying to steady myself, when his voice comes from beside me, low and alert.
"Careful." Before I even realize it, his hand is already at my elbow, supporting me.
I didn't stumble, but he still holds me like I might.
I look at him. He's watching me too closely, too carefully.
"What happened?" he asks softly, his brows pulling together.
"You're quiet." I try to respond, but my voice doesn't come out immediately, so I just shake my head. "I'm fine." But I'm not.
We start walking toward the exit, his hand never leaving mine, his grip firm and protective, like he's holding something fragile like I might break.
Outside, the sunlight hits my face, warm but somehow too sharp.
I blink again as we move toward the car, but just as we pass the emergency ward, I hear it a sharp cry.
A woman's voice. Raw, painful, desperate.
I turn instinctively. A pregnant woman is being wheeled in on a stretcher, her face twisted in pain, her fingers clutching the sides tightly.
"Please...please " she gasps, her voice shaking, while a nurse walks beside her, speaking quickly, trying to calm her.
"It's okay, breathe, breathe" but the woman doesn't look okay.
Her whole body is tense, her eyes squeezed shut, her breath uneven. Another cry escapes her lips, and something inside me tightens. My fingers curl slightly against my stomach. I can't look away. For a second too long, I just stand there, frozen.
"Aarohi." His voice pulls me back. I blink and turn to him, but my eyes flick back to that woman once more before she disappears through the emergency doors. The sound fades, but the image doesn't. "What happened?" he asks again, softer this time.
I shake my head quickly. "Nothing." But my voice betrays me. Even I can hear it. He studies me for a moment like he knows I'm lying, but he doesn't push. "Come," he says instead, guiding me gently toward the car.
The drive back home feels longer than usual. I sit beside him, my head resting lightly against the seat, my hand still on my stomach. I don't talk, and he doesn't force me to, but I can feel his glances again and again, every few seconds.
"What are you thinking?" he finally asks. I don't answer immediately, because I don't even know how to put it into words. My eyes drift back to my stomach. Fifteen days. Any time. That woman's face flashes in my mind again her voice, her pain.
"Does it..." I stop, my throat dry. He glances at me.
"What?" I hesitate, then look at him. "Does it hurt?
" I ask quietly. He frowns slightly. "What?
" "When... when the baby comes," I whisper, "does it hurt a lot?
" There's a pause a small one, but I notice it.
His grip on the steering wheel tightens just a little.
He doesn't answer immediately, and somehow that silence scares me more.
I look away. "I saw someone... there," I continue, my voice trembling now.
"She was in pain. A lot of pain." My fingers press lightly into my stomach.
"Will it be like that?" I ask, unable to hide the fear anymore.
The car slows down, and he pulls it to the side of the road.
I look at him, surprised. He turns toward me completely now, his expression serious but soft.
"Aarohi," he says gently. I look at him, my eyes already heavy.
He reaches out and places his hand over mine, over my stomach.
warm, steady. "I don't know how much it hurts," he says honestly, and that honesty tightens something in my chest. "But I know one thing.
" His thumb brushes lightly against my hand.
"You won't be alone." My eyes lift to his.
"I'll be there," he says, firm and certain.
"No matter what happens... I'll be there.
" Something in me softens, like a wall I didn't even realize I had built begins to crack.
I lower my eyes. "What if..." I hesitate again.
He waits. "What if something happens?" I whisper.
Silence fills the car again, heavier this time. His hand tightens around mine.
"Nothing will happen," he says, his voice controlled, careful.
"I won't let anything happen to you." My lips part slightly.
"You can't control everything," I say quietly.
He doesn't deny it. He just looks at me.
"I'll still try," he replies, and somehow that feels more real, more honest. My eyes burn as I blink quickly, looking away.
"I'm scared," I admit finally, the words softer than I expected but heavier than anything else.
His hand moves from my stomach to my face, turning me toward him gently.
"Aarohi," he says, quieter now. I look at him.
"I'm scared too." I freeze. "What?" I whisper.
A faint smile touches his lips, but it doesn't fully reach his eyes.
"I am. Every day. But I don't show it, because if you get scared.
.. then what will I do?" A small, weak laugh escapes me.
"Idiot," I murmur. He smiles slightly this time.
"Exactly." His thumb brushes lightly under my eye, and only then do I realize a tear had fallen.
"You think too much," he says softly. "And you don't think at all," I reply.
He chuckles under his breath. "Perfect balance.
" I shake my head faintly, but my body relaxes a little not completely, but enough.
He starts the car again, and this time I lean slightly toward him, just enough for my shoulder to touch his arm.
He doesn't say anything, but I feel his hand move again, resting lightly over mine.
When we reach home, everything feels quieter, familiar, safe but the thought hasn't left me. It lingers at the back of my mind like a shadow. I walk inside slowly, his hand still guiding me. As soon as we enter the room, I sit on the bed, exhaling softly.
My body feels heavier today, not physically, but in a way I can't explain.
He kneels in front of me suddenly, and I blink.
"What are you doing?" He doesn't answer.
He places both hands gently on my stomach, careful as always, his touch warm and grounding.
"Listen," he murmurs softly. I watch him as he leans closer, his forehead almost touching my stomach.
"Don't trouble her too much," he says quietly.
A small smile forms on my lips despite everything.
"They're not troubling me," I say. "They are," he replies immediately.
"Making you scared." "They didn't do anything," I defend.
"Still," he says, pressing his palm gently there, "wait properly.
No early entry." I laugh softly. "They can't understand you. "
"They can," he says confidently. I shake my head.
"Mad." He looks up at me. "Your fault." I roll my eyes, but my hand moves to his hair without thinking, my fingers running through it slowly.
He closes his eyes for a second, and just like that, the fear fades a little more not completely, but enough to breathe again.
I lean back against the headboard, exhaling slowly, my hand resting over his, over my stomach, over them.
Fifteen days. Any time. I close my eyes briefly, and this time the image of that woman doesn't feel as sharp.
Because now, I'm not alone in it. He's here, with me.
And somehow... that makes it easier to face.