BONUS 2
The moment we got home from dinner that night, Rudra became... different.
Not in a bad way. Not at all.
But let's just say... the man who once watched me climb ladders barefoot to hang fairy lights without blinking was now freaking out when I leaned down to tie my own shoelaces.
"Let me do it!" he said for the fifth time in three hours, crouching to tie my laces like I was a porcelain doll.
"Rudra, I'm barely six weeks pregnantβ"
"Exactly," he cut me off. "It's the delicate stage. What if you trip and fall and then our baby decides it doesn't want to stay in this world anymore?"
I blinked at him. "That's... not how it works."
He scowled, stood up, and started pacing. "From now on, no ladders. No heels. No spicy food. And you're not allowed to open jars. Or bend. Or blink for too longβ"
"Blink?!"
He gave me that look. The Mr. Khadoos look. "Don't argue. I'll google everything."
And he did.
He downloaded five parenting apps, joined a pregnancy forum, bookmarked three yoga videos for expecting moms, and started sending me baby name polls within an hour.
I was both amused and terrified.
Later that night, we were in bed, and I was curled up next to him reading, while he was busy... glaring at my bump. Or where my bump would be.
"You know it doesn't grow overnight, right?" I said, without looking up from my book.
"I know. I'm just... trying to connect."
"You're staring at my belly like it owes you rent."
He grumbled something unintelligible and laid his palm gently on my stomach. The warmth of his touch made something twist inside me β something soft, and safe, and a little teary.
"I'm going to be the best dad," he whispered after a pause, his voice rough with emotion. "Even if I have no idea how."
"You will be," I said softly, closing my book and looking at him. "You're already the best at everything else."
He looked at me then β truly looked. And his gaze... it was reverent. Like I was some miracle he never believed he deserved, and now here I was, giving him another one.
"Maya?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm building a nursery tomorrow."
I laughed. "We have like eight months!"
"I'll build two. Just in case."
Of course he would.
This was Rudra Singhania.
Overachiever. Overthinker. Overprotective husband.
And now? Soon-to-be Papa Bear.
God help this child β they were about to have the most chaotic, loving, extra parents on earth.
And I wouldn't change a single thing.
Not even his Khadoosi-ness.
Especially not that.
The next morning, I woke up before Maya β something that rarely happened. Her hair was sprawled across the pillow, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, her breathing soft and steady.
I lay there just watching her.
My wife.
My pregnant wife.
The thought still made my chest tighten in the best way.
It was real. It was happening. There was a tiny heartbeat growing inside her. A life we created. A future I'd protect with everything in me.
I got out of bed quietly, brushing a kiss to her forehead before tiptoeing out.
Ten minutes later, I was in the guest room with Veer on speaker, sketching out blueprints on a notepad like a lunatic.
"I need a crib. But a safe one. No sharp edges. And one of those star projectors for the ceiling."
Veer groaned. "Bhai, it's seven in the morningβ"
"And blackout curtains. And soundproofing. And a rocking chair. Waitβshould I build it myself?"
"Are you on caffeine again?"
"I'm on fatherhood."
Click. He hung up.
Rude.
By the time Maya came downstairs, I'd already spoken to an interior designer, watched two baby safety tutorials, and ordered a pregnancy pillow the size of a small boat.
She walked into the kitchen, brows raised. "Why does it smell like paint and panic?"
"No reason," I said too quickly, pulling out a chair for her. "Sit. I made breakfast."
She blinked at the spread in front of her. Parathas. Fruit salad. Toast. Boiled eggs. Orange juice. Almond milk. And her weird pregnancy craving from last night β green chutney over vanilla ice cream.
"...Are we feeding a small army?" she asked.
"Just us. And our baby," I said proudly.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're overdoing it."
"I'm preparing."
"You're hovering."
"I'm in love."
She sighed, trying to look annoyed. But the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. She sat down, took a bite, and moaned in approval. I mentally did a victory lap.
Then she reached across the table and held my hand.
"Rudra?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm scared," she whispered.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Because I knew. I knew that fear.
I stood, rounded the table, and crouched beside her chair. I took her face in my hands, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
"I'll be scared with you," I said. "Every step of the way. But you'll never be alone. Not for a second."
She leaned into me, eyes glassy, lips trembling.
"And if the baby hates me?" she mumbled.
"Impossible."
"And what if I forget something important?"
"Then I'll remember for both of us."
She smiled then β small and teary and devastatingly beautiful.
We stayed like that for a while, just holding each other.
Our world had shifted.
And I knew β no matter what chaos came next β we'd survive it. Together.
Because this wasn't just love anymore.
This was family.
And I would burn the world before I let anything touch mine.
*TARGET vote 70
(Guys Do you see the difference here???)