BONUS 3
4 Months Later
If someone had told me pregnancy would feel like hosting a chaotic reality show inside my body, I would've laughed. But here I was.four months in, craving mango pickle at 3 a.m., crying over a dog food commercial, and yelling at Rudra because he breathed too loudly.
In my defense, he was breathing very loudly.
I waddled yes, waddled into the kitchen, wrapped in Rudra's old university hoodie that now barely zipped over my tiny bump. My hair was a frizzy mess, my face puffy from sleep, and my mood?
Dangerously unpredictable.
Rudra, my very punctual and usually composed husband a.k.a Professor Rudra Singhania, the same man who once scolded a student for blinking too loudly during a test walked into the kitchen a minute later, rubbing his eyes.
"Maya? What are you doing up?"
"I need mango pickle with vanilla yogurt," I announced dramatically.
He blinked.
At 3:17 in the morning.
"Mayaβ"
"I will cry. I swear to God."
He raised both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I'm getting it. Don't cry."
I watched him open the fridge like he was preparing for war. This was the same man who used to terrify students with a mere raise of his eyebrow, and now? He was in his pajama pants at 3 a.m., tiptoeing around the fridge, whispering sweet nothings to a jar of pickle.
He handed me the combo with a painfully amused smirk.
"Here. Pickle and yogurt. Together. Like a totally logical snack."
"I love you," I said dramatically, clutching the bowl like it was my life's purpose.
"I fear you," he muttered under his breath.
I took one glorious bite... and gagged. "Ugh. This is disgusting."
Rudra blinked slowly. "Then whyβ?"
"I changed my mind," I sniffled. "Now I want chocolate cake. With green chutney."
He sighed, turned toward the pantry, and mumbled, "They don't train professors for this."
"Wait," I called. "Can you warm the cake first? But not too warm. Just... lovingly warm."
He turned, narrowing his eyes. "Lovingly warm?"
"Yes. Like a hug. Not like a sauna."
He blinked twice. "You're lucky I love you."
"And you're lucky you're not marking papers right now."
He smirked. "You think students are scarier than you during pregnancy? Please."
Still, he did exactly what I asked. And when he walked back toward me, cake in hand, I noticed the tiniest trace of a smile on his lips.
"You know what's serious?" he asked.
"What?"
He cupped my cheeks gently and said, "How beautiful you look even when you're hormonal and bossy."
I melted. And then, in true Maya fashion, I burst into tears.
"I love you so much, it's actually annoying," I sniffled.
He kissed my forehead. "I love you too, Mrs. Khadoos. Hormones, cravings, yogurt-stained hoodie and all."
That night, we sat on the kitchen floorβme eating cake with chutney, him pretending to like it tooβlaughing like two sleep-deprived fools.
Because yes, I was moody, emotional, and craving the weirdest things on earth.
But I had Rudra.
My grumpy, genius of a professor husband.
And we were about to become parents to a child who'd probably inherit my drama... and his terrifying stare.
May the world be prepared.
After the chutney-cake combo (which honestly wasn't that bad), I leaned into Rudra's chest, ready to drift into a food-induced slumber.
And then... it happened.
The shift.
It started with me staring at his face.
More specificallyβhis jaw.
"Did you shave today?" I asked suddenly, sitting upright.
Rudra blinked, still holding the empty plate. "Uh... no? I was home all day."
I narrowed my eyes. "Exactly. You didn't shave."
He frowned, clearly confused. "Yeah... because I was home. You literally said you liked the stubble look."
"Do I look like a liar to you?"
Rudra froze.
"Answer carefully," I hissed.
He gulped. "N-No. Of course not. You're very honest. And terrifying. Mostly terrifying right now."
I stood up, hands on my hips, full pregnancy mode activated. "So when I say something one day and something else the next, it's not lying, Rudra. It's called evolving."
"Evolving," he repeated slowly, as if learning a new word in an alien language.
"Yes. Now I hate the stubble. I hate it."
"...Got it."
"And I also hate how you breathe."
He blinked. "You said you loved how I breathe ten minutes ago."
"I've evolved."
Rudra, wise man that he was, slowly stood up and nodded. "Okay. I'll shave. And... I'll try to breathe less."
I glared at him. "Now you're mocking me."
"I'm not!" He backed up toward the hallway. "I swear I'm not! I'm justβrespectfully afraid."
I burst into tears again.
"You're afraid of me?"
He panicked. "N-No! I mean yes! But in a cute way. Like a 'my wife is the most powerful goddess in the world' way."
I sniffled. "You think I'm a goddess?"
"Yes."
"...Even with this messy bun?"
"Especially with that messy bun."
"...And the mood swings?"
"Iconic."
"...And the cake on my hoodie?"
"Trendsetting."
I finally cracked a smile. "You're lucky you're hot."
He exhaled in pure relief. "You have no idea."
And just like that, the storm passed.
He hugged me tightly, resting his chin atop my head.
"Rudra?" I whispered against his chest.
"Hmm?"
"...Next time I scream at you, just remind me that I'm magical."
He chuckled softly. "You're beyond magical, Mrs. Khadoos."
*Target vote 70