Chapter 2

“I am so sorry, my love. I never had the courage to tell your father that you existed. He never received the chance to grieve for our loss. I know I was wrong, but after leaving your dad, I fell into a deep misery. Losing your grandparents crumbled my world, leaving me hollow. Then, one fateful night, I discovered that I was carrying a life inside me. It was as if the universe had given me a glimmer of hope amid my despair. You came into my life when everything else had been stripped away from me. And then one night, those unbearable cramps…"

The abrupt bang of the door startled me, yanking me back to reality. There he stood again, and the seething rage emanating from him sent a chill down my spine. In my shock, I dropped all the papers I had been holding, watching in horror as they scattered across the floor. No… no, this can't be happening. He can’t see those papers now. Damn it, he must never know about this.

Like a predator stalking its prey, he advanced slowly, and I was frozen in place, unable to tear my gaze away from his intense stare. The nerve at the base of my neck pulsed in fear with each step he took toward me. My heart felt as though it might burst from the pressure, the agony of losing my baby flooding back in waves. I longed to reach down and grab the papers, to hide them away, but I was paralyzed by dread. Instead, he picked them up for me.

Every movement he made was in excruciatingly slow motion, as if time had come to a standstill. He approached, never breaking eye contact, and bent down to retrieve the papers from the floor. I knew he caught sight of our child’s name because I saw him stiffen, his grip on the documents tightening as if they were a lifeline. He looked at me just once, then began to read the entire report. I could see his eyes scanning the pages, and with each line, his breath grew more ragged.

“Arnav!” I whispered, desperately reaching out.

“Shhh,” he said, silencing me with a gesture of his hand.

Then, in a moment that shattered my heart, he crumpled to the floor, collapsing like an infant. He held the paper against his chest, as if it were our lifeless child, heartbreak etched into every feature. I had often heard that men do not cry, and I had wondered why. But witnessing this strong, independent man break down before me, tears streaming down his face, shattered my own composure. Each tear that fell from his eyes pierced through my soul, leaving me broken.

He pressed the crumpled paper to his face, wiping away the anguish. I stood there, helpless, just watching the broken man before me.

“My baby!” he cried out. “Our baby, Khushi! I… I was meant to be a father. Why? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you hate me so much, Smiley, that you hid the most important truth of our lives?”

“I’m so sorry, Arnav,” I managed to say, joining him on the floor as I searched for a way to comfort him amidst my own turmoil.

To my astonishment, he did something I never expected—he enveloped me in a tight embrace. I melted into his arms, my tears soaking the fabric of his shirt as I held him just as tightly.

We sat there for what felt like an eternity, silently communicating our pain and regrets. “How did it happen?” he asked, stroking my back gently, each word imbued with concern.

“After I left you, I moved back in with my parents. They had a tumultuous and abusive relationship; I grew up watching my father beat my mother every night after returning home drunk, sometimes even bringing other women into our lives. Sometimes…" I paused, the painful memories tightening my chest.

“Did he ever hurt you, Khushi?” His voice was low, filled with concern.

“He loved me, Arnav. Too much, perhaps. But when he was drunk, he would unconsciously lash out, especially when I tried to protect my mother. He never intended to hurt me; I knew that.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he murmured, kissing my temple softly and pulling me closer, as though he could shield me from my past.

“Regardless of his flaws, he was still my father. He struggled to provide for us, giving us food and shelter. When I told my mother about you, she was furious at first. She scolded me for abandoning you and returning home without an explanation. But eventually, she came to understand that growing up like I did, in such a volatile environment, filled me with fear. At just 18, I was terrified. What if you turned out to be just like him?”

“Are you completely insane, Smiley? I wouldn’t hurt a fly! You think I’m capable of that?” His voice was a blend of frustration and disbelief. “I loved you, you crazy woman.”

“I loved you too. I loved you so much. I realize now; my decision was a terrible mistake.”

“Then why didn’t you come back to me?”

“My parents had an accident, and just three days later, they were gone. My entire world shattered.”

“Damn it, baby,” he whispered, cradling me in his arms as I succumbed to grief once more.

Lavanya and her parents took me in after that. I had to change cities yet again; I had no other relatives to turn to. Because of my father’s abusive nature, we had lost touch with everyone. Lavanya was my closest friend from school, and we had spent so much time together. Her parents were aware of the bruises I bore, and they had seen the toll my home life had taken on me. After graduating, Lavanya’s father received a transfer, and they moved away, but I had to keep moving to rebuild my life.

Once I emerged from that dark, depressing phase of my life, I began to slowly reclaim my regular routine. As I was searching for colleges one day, I received the news that would change everything—I was pregnant with your child. That revelation marked the happiest day of my life; a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

“Why didn’t you contact me then? Don’t you think I had the right to know?” His voice was laced with a mix of hurt and frustration, and I looked down, the weight of his words pressing heavily on my chest. He had a valid point, but how could I have reached out in that moment of vulnerability?

“Please, Khushi. This is important. Don’t hide anything from me today,” he pleaded, his eyes searching mine for the truth.

“I was terrified,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “What if you didn’t believe me? What if you had said this child wasn’t yours? I don’t think I could have endured that—after everything I had already been through.”

He jolted back, gripping my shoulders firmly, disbelief etched on his face. “You think I wouldn’t have believed you? Khushi, how could I possibly deny our intimacy?”

A blush crept onto my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and acknowledgment of our shared past. “Becoming a mother at 18 is daunting, and you were so young, too. It felt like an enormous responsibility.”

“Bullshit, Khushi,” he interrupted, his voice steely yet pained. “I already love our baby, even knowing she is not here with us.” My heart ached at his declaration, a bittersweet swell of emotion at the thought of a life that could have been—a life that was cut short before it even began.

“How do you know it’s a girl?” I asked, half-teasing yet hopeful.

He smiled gently, warmth radiating from him. “With you, I can only imagine having a little girl. I just know it.” Overcome with emotion, I collapsed against his chest, tears flowing freely as I clung to him, whispering apologies and regrets into his shirt.

“Shhh! It’s okay, sweetheart. Please, stop crying,” he murmured, his hands soothingly stroking my hair.

“Then one fateful night, I began to cramp—something felt off. In my confusion and fear, I woke Lavanya. She had no clue about my pregnancy; her parents were out of town. She hurriedly took me to the bathroom, and then… all I remember is blood everywhere.” My voice cracked as the memory surged back, a haunting reminder of that moment.

“Jesus! And you had to face all of this alone? Khushi!” His outrage only deepened my sorrow.

“I was rushed to the hospital. My doctor was away, and the one on duty admitted me immediately. But then, she delivered the most devastating news of my life: ‘You have lost your baby,’ she said, her voice soft yet firm, as Lavanya looked on in shock. It was my fault—I should have told her parents. If I had, they would have ensured I received the care we both needed. But without marriage, I was terrified of how they would react.”

“Afterward, my life changed completely. I lost all interest in everything except writing. I dropped out of college and spiraled into severe depression. The anxiety attacks crept in relentlessly, and I didn't know how to cope. I allowed my pain to fester, consuming me from the inside out. That’s how I ended up as the person you see before you, Arnav.”

He stood abruptly, releasing me from his grip, only to lift me effortlessly into his arms. I rested my head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed for a moment, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief wash over me. All my burdens felt lighter now that he knew the entire truth. For the first time in a long while, I felt hope blooming in my heart—maybe I could finally find peace.

The softness of the mattress met my back as he gently laid me down on the bed. I opened my eyes to find him gazing at me, his eyes still streaked with unshed tears but filled with determination.

He began to open his shirt, the soft fabric falling away, revealing the strong lines of his body. As he unbuckled his belt, he shifted closer, capturing my lips in a tender kiss that sent shivers down my spine. Explosions of warmth ignited between us as he continued to kiss me, drenching our shared moment in affection. He finally pulled the quilt around us, enveloping both our bodies in its warmth.

Our lovemaking became not just a physical act, but a profound emotional bonding. It was more than just about us; it was about healing, intimacy, and the love we shared. As we sank into a cocoon of physical closeness and emotional safety, I drifted off into a peaceful nap, finally feeling secure and whole in his embrace.