It was a slow Sunday morning when Kaushiki stood in front of the mirror, tying her hair into a loose bun. Something about her reflection felt different. She pressed her palm lightly against her lower belly, frowning.
Her dresses—especially the more fitted ones—had begun to feel a little tighter around her waist. At first, she brushed it off as nothing but her appetite increasing. After all, Anita was always pampering her with food, and Ashwin too made sure she never skipped meals. But lately, there had been days when she felt more tired than usual, her mood swinging without warning, and her cravings becoming oddly specific—like her sudden desire for tangy raw mango or sour tamarind at odd hours.
That evening, as the family gathered in the living room, Kaushiki quietly sat with a plate of sliced oranges. She chewed slowly, not really listening to the conversation. Her body felt heavier, almost sluggish. When Anita asked if she was tired from hospital work, Kaushiki just nodded with a soft smile, not wanting to worry anyone.
Later, in her room, she sat on the bed and hugged her knees. A strange mixture of nervousness and hope stirred in her chest. Her fingers brushed her belly again, lingering there longer this time. What if…? The thought scared her, yet somewhere deep down, it also made her heart race.
She decided not to say anything yet—not to Anita, not to Ashwin. Instead, she closed her eyes and lay back, silently listening to her body, trying to understand what it was trying to tell her.
Ashwin noticed it first that night. He had just returned from his study, where he had been reviewing some hospital reports, when he saw Kaushiki curled up on the bed, holding her knees like a little child. Her plate of oranges was still half-finished on the side table, untouched for a while now.
“Kaushiki…” his voice was soft, cautious. He walked closer and sat down beside her. “Tum thak gayi ho?”
She opened her eyes quickly, almost startled, and shook her head. “Nahi… bas aise hi.” Her voice was light, but her eyes betrayed the storm inside her.
Ashwin leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve been… different lately.” His gaze was steady, searching. “Kuch bataogi mujhe?”
Her throat tightened. She wanted to hide it, to make sense of it herself before sharing it with him. But the warmth of his hand resting gently on her shoulder made her defenses melt.
“Bas…” she hesitated, looking down at her hands, “mujhe lagta hai… mera body thoda strange behave kar raha hai. Thoda heavy sa feel ho raha hai, mood swings bhi… aur cravings.” She gave a nervous half-smile.
Ashwin’s brows furrowed with concern, though he stayed calm. “Did you talk to Aakriti or anyone at the hospital about it?”
She shook her head quickly. “Nahi… abhi tak nahi. Main khud samajhna chahti thi pehle.” Her voice lowered. “Ashwin… mujhe dar lagta hai.”
His chest tightened at those words. He immediately reached for her hands, enclosing them in his warm, steady grip. “Hey… look at me.” She lifted her teary eyes to him, and he spoke softly, firmly, “Tum akeli nahi ho. Jo bhi ho… hum saath face karenge. Okay?”
Kaushiki’s lips trembled, but she nodded, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his chest. For a while, neither of them spoke, just listening to each other’s breathing, the quiet room wrapping them in fragile comfort.
It was late in the evening when Kaushiki sat at her dressing table, absently brushing her hair. The calendar on the side wall caught her attention, and she froze mid-stroke. Her eyes scanned the dates, her heart skipping a beat.
She leaned forward, tracing the squares with her finger. “No…” she whispered to herself, her throat suddenly dry. “Ye toh… ek mahina se zyada ho gaya.”
Her hands trembled as she dropped the brush onto the table. A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind at once—memories of the miscarriage, the unbearable silence of that hospital room, the empty cradle of dreams they had built. She felt her breath hitch, panic rising in her chest.
“Kaushiki?” Ashwin’s voice came from the doorway. He was holding a file, but the moment he saw her pale face, he put it aside and stepped in quickly. “Kya hua?”
She looked up at him, eyes wide, almost guilty. “Ashwin…” her voice broke, “mera period… miss ho gaya hai.”
For a second, silence filled the room, heavy and fragile. Ashwin blinked, his doctor’s instincts instantly alive, but his heart waged war inside his chest. He didn’t want to rush to conclusions—didn’t want her to spiral into hope too fast, or into fear too deep.
He came closer, kneeling down beside her chair, taking her cold hands into his warm, steady ones. “Tum sure ho?” he asked gently.
She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. “Ek hafte se zyada ho gaya hai… Ashwin, mujhe darr lag raha hai.”
He pressed her hands tighter, his gaze unwavering, voice low but firm. “Shh… Kaushiki. Darne ki koi baat nahi hai. Kal subah hum test karenge, theek hai? Chahe jo bhi result ho… main tumhare saath hoon.”
Her tears finally slipped, rolling down her cheeks silently. She nodded against his chest as he pulled her into an embrace. For a long while, neither spoke. Both were trapped between fear of the past and the fragile hope of what this silence in her body might mean.
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...
