The sun spilled gently over the wide glass panels of Rawat Medical Innovations, giving the hospital a glow of warmth that belied the relentless rush inside. Kaushiki adjusted her white coat, tying her stethoscope around her neck before stepping into the corridor. Her steps were brisk, but her face carried its usual cheer — as if she had deliberately decided to act as though nothing unusual had happened the previous evening.
Ashwin, walking a few paces ahead, looked no different than any other day. His expression was composed, his tone firm when he instructed an intern at the nursing station, “Rounds start in five minutes. Be prepared with the reports.”
Kaushiki silently admired how effortlessly he carried the weight of responsibility. To anyone else, he looked exactly the same: sharp, calm, and intimidating. Only she knew that beneath that mask, he too had carried home a secret last night, one that neither of them had gathered the courage to share with the family.
Inside the ward, Kaushiki busied herself with patient charts. She smiled at an old woman who was recovering from cardiac surgery, adjusted a child’s blanket in the pediatric wing, and carefully scribbled notes on vitals. Her clumsiness showed when she almost tripped over a stool, earning a faint shake of Ashwin’s head as he followed behind.
“Dhyaan se, Dr. Rawat,” he muttered under his breath, low enough that only she could hear.
Kaushiki scrunched her nose but obediently steadied herself, pretending to recheck a file. To the nurses and interns nearby, it was nothing but their usual professor-intern banter.
Later, during OPD hours, a middle-aged man came with complaints of chest discomfort. Ashwin handled the consultation, while Kaushiki assisted in noting symptoms and arranging the tests. Her fingers shook a little while holding the prescription pad, and though no one noticed, Ashwin did. He glanced at her briefly, then resumed his instructions as if nothing was out of place.
By lunchtime, the two of them sat in the doctor’s lounge. Kaushiki nibbled at her sandwich quietly, her mind drifting back to the test result folded neatly in Ashwin’s desk drawer at home. He sipped his black coffee, scrolling through reports, but every now and then his eyes softened when they lingered on her. Neither spoke about it. Both knew they had silently agreed to continue with life as usual until they were ready.
And so, to everyone else, the day at the hospital was perfectly ordinary — patients seen, rounds completed, reports filed. But for Kaushiki and Ashwin, beneath the silence, every shared glance carried the weight of a secret they were yet to tell.
The Rawat mansion’s dining hall was unusually noisy that evening. Platters of steaming rotis, bowls of sabzi, and crystal glasses clinked as the family gathered for dinner. Kaushiki, who had just returned from a long day at the hospital, sat quietly beside Ashwin, her face flushed from exhaustion.
At first, everything seemed ordinary—light chatter about business, Yuvika’s mischievous interruptions, and Bhoomi Chachi joking with Kushal Uncle. But in the middle of it, Aakriti placed her spoon down with a sharp clink, her eyes fixed on Kaushiki and Ashwin.
“Bhai… Bhabhi… ek baat poochun?” she said, her tone casual, but her gaze too pointed.
Kaushiki froze with a piece of roti halfway to her mouth. Ashwin’s hand stiffened on the tablecloth. “Kya baat hai, Aakriti?” Anita asked, sensing her daughter’s odd pause.
Aakriti leaned back, folding her arms. “Hospital mein kuch suna… sab log baat kar rahe the… ki Bhabhi—Kaushiki—pregnant hai. Is it true?”
The room fell into stunned silence.
Kaushiki’s cheeks flared crimson, and Ashwin coughed, nearly choking on his water. Bhoomi Chachi’s spoon slipped into her dal, making a splash. Vikram muttered under his breath, “Arre, Aakriti beta, seedha dinner table pe…”
Everyone’s eyes turned toward the couple. Kaushiki lowered her gaze, fiddling nervously with her dupatta. Ashwin didn’t answer either—his jaw tightened, but his silence spoke more than denial.
That was enough.
“Kya?!” Anita exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth. Bhoomi Chachi immediately leaned forward, “Sach hai kya, bitiya?!” while Yuvaan gave a half-smirk, muttering, “Finally… bade bhai ne secret chhupana chod diya.”
Kritika tried to shush him, whispering, “Bas karo, Yuvaan!” but by then the chaos had already begun. Everyone spoke over one another.
“Kaushiki tu khana toh khati bhi nahi aajkal—isi liye!” Bhoomi Chachi guessed dramatically.
“Arre, mujhe toh lag raha tha thakawat ki wajah se hai!” Anita panicked.
“Par tum dono ne bataya kyun nahi?” Kushal asked, half stern, half bewildered.
And little Yuvika, with her innocent voice, piped up, “Kaushi chachii… baby aa raha hai kya?”
Kaushiki buried her face in her palms. Ashwin, for once, looked completely cornered. His usually calm composure was nowhere to be found as his family swarmed with questions and exclamations.
In the middle of the ruckus, Aakriti pressed her lips together, guilty but also amused. “Maine toh bas confirm karna tha…” she mumbled, but no one heard her—Anita was already holding Kaushiki’s hand, Bhoomi was planning ladoos, and Vikram was demanding silence so Ashwin could finally speak.
But Ashwin said nothing. He only pulled Kaushiki’s chair slightly closer to him in a quiet gesture of protection, his hand brushing hers under the table. That small action was all the answer the family needed.
The hall erupted again, this time with a mix of laughter, teasing, and chaotic joy.
YOU ARE READING
𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚
Romance"Marry me," he said. And just like that, my life became a rom-com gone wrong. Kaushiki Rajput-clumsy, loud-mouthed, and hopelessly optimistic-never expected her first encounter with Dr. Ashwin Rawat to involve publicly accusing him of child neglect...
