37. Labour Pain #2
"Hurry..."
Her fingers slipped from his hand only because the nurse had to gently separate them.
For a brief second, neither of them wanted to let go.
Their hands remained connected until the very last fingertip.
Only when the stretcher began moving did their fingers finally part.
Rakshit stood frozen.
Watching as the ward boys pushed Shivika through the swinging doors of the labour room.
She kept looking back at him until the doors slowly closed between them.
The moment they shut-
A strange emptiness settled inside him.
It felt as though a part of his own heart had disappeared behind those doors.
Taking one last deep breath, Rakshit closed his eyes for a brief second.
"Stay strong, Ika..." he silently prayed.
"Just hold on for five minutes."
Without wasting another second, he turned and hurried after the ward boy towards the changing area.
As soon as the washroom door closed behind him, the sounds of the hospital corridor disappeared.
For the first time since they had reached the hospital...
Rakshit was alone.
Completely alone.
He stood there for a few seconds without moving, one hand still resting on the doorknob. His chest rose and fell rapidly, as if he had forgotten how to breathe. The silence around him was deafening.
And then...
The composure he had been forcing himself to maintain shattered.
A choked sob escaped his lips before he could stop it.
He lowered his head, pressing one trembling hand against his mouth as tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"Ika..."
Her name came out as nothing more than a broken whisper.
He had promised he would become her strength.
Yet standing alone in that sterile washroom, where no one could see him, he finally allowed himself to feel everything he had been suppressing ever since her labour pains had begun.
He had never felt so helpless in his life.
Not when he had built his empire from nothing.
Not when he had faced failures.
Not when life had tested him in countless ways.
Nothing compared to this.
Because every scream that escaped Shivika's lips felt as though someone was tearing apart his own heart.
People often spoke about the pain a woman endured while giving birth.
And rightly so.
No words could truly measure that pain.
Every contraction felt as if her entire body was being pulled apart from within.
Her muscles tightened with unbearable force, her back ached relentlessly, her hips felt as though they were being forced open, and her body-despite being exhausted-had no choice but to continue.
It was a pain that came in waves, each one stronger than the last, leaving barely enough time to recover before the next arrived.
She had carried their child for months.
She had endured morning sickness, sleepless nights, swollen feet, backaches, mood swings, breathlessness and countless discomforts without once complaining.
And today...
Her body was doing something extraordinary.
Bringing a new life into the world.
But while everyone focused on the mother's physical pain...
Very few noticed the silent suffering of the man standing outside.
Who couldn't exchange places.
Couldn't lessen her contractions.
Couldn't tell her body to stop hurting.
Couldn't carry even one percent of what she was enduring.
His pain wasn't physical.
It was helplessness.
Rakshit wiped his tears roughly.
No.
He couldn't waste time.
She was waiting for him.
He quickly turned on the shower.
The cold water fell over him instantly, soaking his clothes before he hurriedly removed them. Usually, he enjoyed long showers whenever he needed to clear his mind.
Today...
Every passing second felt like a crime.
His hands shook so violently that he almost dropped the antiseptic soap provided by the hospital.
He scrubbed himself exactly as instructed, trying to follow every sterile protocol, but his thoughts never left Shivika.
Was another contraction hitting her?
Was she crying?
Was she looking for him?
Did she think he had taken too long?
Fresh tears mixed with the water running down his face.
He didn't even realize whether the wetness on his cheeks came from the shower... or from his eyes.
His breathing remained uneven.
"I promised five minutes..."
He whispered to himself repeatedly.
"Five minutes."
"Just five."
He hurriedly rinsed himself and stepped out, grabbing the sterile towel.
His movements were clumsy because of the panic consuming him.
For someone who always remained calm under pressure...
Today his fingers refused to cooperate.
He almost wore the surgical gown inside out before correcting himself.
His trembling hands reached for the sterile OT scrubs.
As he pulled the sleeves over his arms...
His eyes suddenly froze.
There...
Running across his forearm...
Were the deep crescent-shaped marks left by Shivika's nails.
Some of them had turned red.
A few had tiny spots where the skin had slightly broken.
He slowly ran his fingertips over them.
For a brief second...
He closed his eyes.
Those marks weren't painful.
Not to him.
Instead they reminded him of how tightly she had held onto him.
How desperately she had searched for something to hold while her body battled unimaginable pain.
If merely gripping his arm had left such marks...
Then what must she herself be feeling?
His throat tightened painfully.
"I wish..." he whispered.
"I wish I could take all of it from you."
Another tear escaped before he immediately wiped it away.
No.
Enough.
She didn't need him crying.
She needed him beside her.
Within seconds, he finished wearing the sterile scrubs, mask, cap and shoe covers.
The moment the nurse opened the changing room door for him...
He almost ran.
The hospital corridor seemed endless.
Every step echoed loudly against the polished floor.
His heartbeat pounded so violently that it almost hurt.
Please...
Please let her be okay.
Please keep both of them safe.
Those words became the only prayer running through his mind.
Finally... he reached the labour room doors.
A nurse opened them for him.
The moment he stepped inside...
He froze.
The room was brightly lit.
Medical equipment surrounded the bed.
Monitors continuously displayed Shivika's heart rate and the baby's heartbeat, filling the room with rhythmic electronic beeps.
Doctors and nurses moved efficiently around her.
One nurse monitored the fetal heart rate.
Another checked Shivika's blood pressure.
The obstetrician was calmly assessing her progress while giving instructions to the team.
Everything was organised.
Professional.
Routine for them.
But for Rakshit...
It felt like the most terrifying sight he had ever witnessed.
Because on that bed... was his world.
Shivika's face was flushed with exhaustion.
Her hair clung to her forehead because of sweat.
Her hospital gown was damp.
Her breathing had become heavy and irregular.
Every few moments, another contraction tightened her entire body.
Her fingers gripped the bedsheet so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
She wasn't simply feeling pain anymore.
She was fighting it.
Using every ounce of strength she possessed.
Rakshit's vision blurred.
He wanted to look away.
He couldn't bear watching the doctors examine her.
Couldn't bear seeing her in such unbearable agony.
Yet...
How could he look away when she was searching for him?
As if sensing his presence, Shivika slowly turned her head.
The moment their eyes met...
Something inside her relaxed.
Not because the pain had reduced.
It hadn't.
But because she wasn't alone anymore.
She had her Aksh.
She weakly lifted one trembling hand.
Without hesitation, Rakshit walked to her bedside and immediately took it into both of his hands.
"I'm here, bacche..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I told you I'd come back."
Her fingers instantly tightened around his.
Another contraction suddenly began.
The monitor reflected its rise.
The doctor looked at Shivika.
"Contraction is coming."
"Deep breaths, Shivika."
Before Shivika could even respond-
"Ahhhhhhh!"
Her scream echoed through the entire labour room.
It wasn't merely loud.
It was raw.
Primal.
A cry that came from the deepest part of her soul.
The sound shattered Rakshit completely.
His own breath caught.
Every instinct inside him screamed to do something.
Anything.
To stop her pain.
To hold her closer.
To protect her.
But he couldn't.
All he could do was tighten his grip around her trembling hand while gently wiping the tears that rolled endlessly from her eyes.
"I know..."
His own voice broke behind the surgical mask.
"I know, bacche..."
"You don't have to be scared."
"I'm right here."
She cried harder, squeezing his hand with every bit of strength she had left.
And this time...
Rakshit didn't even notice the pain in his own hand.
Because compared to what Shivika was enduring...
It was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
The contraction slowly eased, leaving Shivika gasping for breath.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as though even breathing had become exhausting. Every part of her body ached. Her arms felt heavy, her legs trembled uncontrollably, and beads of sweat rolled from her forehead onto the pillow beneath her.
She had never imagined that a human body could hurt this much.
She felt drained.
As though every ounce of strength she possessed had already been used.
The doctor quickly examined her before looking up.
"Good. You're fully dilated now."
She turned towards Shivika with an encouraging smile.
"Shivika, listen to me carefully. The next contractions are going to be stronger. When I tell you to push, you have to push with all your strength. Don't waste your energy screaming. Use that energy to push your baby down, alright?"
Shivika nodded weakly.
But the fear in her eyes hadn't disappeared.
Rakshit stood beside her, never letting go of her hand.
His thumb gently rubbed circles over the back of her palm.
"I'm right here, baccha," he whispered.