“Yeah, I’ll check the file and call you back,” Rudra says as he enters our room. He’s on the phone call, and I can tell from the tension in his eyebrows that he’s stressed. Work again. He looks so serious, and immediately I want to smooth out those lines and ease that stress away from his face and his life.
He pockets his phone and finally looks at me. A bright smile spreads across his face, and my heart flutters. Just like that, he’s mine again. I love how I can make him smile so easily—it was one of my little goals when we got together. And I’ve achieved it already.
“Hey,” he greets, his voice warm and comforting, like a soft blanket after a cold day. “I’ll go and change. Then we can eat together, okay?” He leans in and pecks my forehead.
I force a smile, nerves fluttering inside me like wild butterflies. “Okay.”
He pauses, eyes narrowing slightly, concern flickering across his face. “Are you okay?”
I nod quickly. Too quickly. I know he doesn’t believe me—he knows me too well. He stares at me for a moment longer before heading into the closet.
I hear him rustling through his clothes, the usual routine. But suddenly there’s a pause. A long one. Then I hear more frantic rummaging, drawers sliding open, and hangers clattering. My heart leaps into my throat.
Shit.
He emerges from the closet holding the pregnancy test in his hand, staring at it like it just spoke to him. His expression is unreadable—frozen in shock—and he doesn’t say a word.
Fear grips me. My palms go clammy, and all the common sense flies out of the window. I don’t know how to act now. Different thoughts train through my mind, and I bite my lips.
What if he doesn’t want this? We’ve talked about having a baby, sure. But I don’t know if he wants it now.
But I am keeping it. No matter what.
“I’m pregnant, Rudra,” I admit quietly, my voice trembling.
His eyes widen slightly, and I notice his grip on the test tightening just for a second before his whole expression softens.
He walks over, sits beside me on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. His gaze stays fixed on me, as if he’s trying to read every emotion I’m feeling.
“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he will hurt if he talks in his normal volume.
I nod.
His eyes start to shimmer with unshed tears. He stands up abruptly and pulls me into a hug, lifting me off the ground in one fluid motion.
“I’m going to be a mother!” He blurts out, then pauses, shaking his head with a stunned expression. “No, wait, you’re going to be a father.”
There’s another pause, then he bursts out laughing.
“What’s wrong with me? What the fuck am I saying?”
I can’t help but laugh too, happy tears stinging my eyes.
He gently sets me back down on the bed. His hands cup my face, thumbs wiping away the tears that escape down my cheeks. His touch is warm, steady, filled with awe and something else I can’t quite name—something deeper than joy.
He leans in slowly, giving me time, waiting for me to meet him halfway. Our lips meet softly, a sweet kiss that holds so many emotions—relief, happiness, disbelief, and love.
Then it deepens.
It’s like he’s trying to pour all his love and excitement into this one moment. His lips move with both urgency and tenderness, like he’s kissing every doubt and fear away. I feel the smile tug at his lips even as we kiss.
His hands slide to my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. I can feel his heart racing against mine. My hands find the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as I hold him close, grounding myself in this moment.
Everything else fades away. The world shrinks down to just him and me and this beautiful, surreal miracle between us.
When the kiss ends, he rests his forehead against mine. Our breaths mingle, fast and uneven. His eyes are still closed.
“I love you, Shivani,” he murmurs, and my heart clenches.
