Version 1
The silence of the night was punctuated only by the rhythmic snuffling of their newborn son, Aryan, nestled in Riya's arms. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows on the room, highlighting the exhaustion etched on Riya's face. Her usually vibrant eyes were dull, reflecting the weight of worry and the gnawing guilt that had settled deep within her.
'He's just not latching on, Arjun,' she whispered, her voice hoarse. 'I've tried everything, but he just won't take the breast.'
Arjun, ever the pragmatist, gently took the baby from her, his touch firm yet comforting. 'Come on, little man, let's see what we can do.' He cradled Aryan, his gaze focused on the tiny face contorted in a silent cry.
'He's hungry, Arjun, I can feel it. But I can't feed him.' Tears welled up in Riya's eyes, threatening to spill over. 'I failed. I can't even feed my own baby.'
Arjun saw the anguish reflected in her eyes, the vulnerability that was so foreign to the strong woman he knew. He pulled her close, holding her tightly. 'Don't say that, Riya. You're not failing. You're doing everything you can. This is just a small hurdle, and we'll overcome it together.'
He deposited Aryan on the bed, his small frame nestled in a soft pile of blankets. He then turned to Riya, his eyes filled with a deep, unspoken love. 'We'll figure this out, okay? We always do.'
The next few days were a whirlwind of anxiety and frustration. They tried every method imaginable: different positions, warm compresses, even a lactation consultant, but Aryan remained stubbornly uninterested in the breast. Riya's milk supply, burdened by anxiety and stress, began to dwindle. The unspoken tension grew, a silent storm brewing between them.
One evening, after a particularly futile feeding attempt, Riya sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. 'I'm sorry, Arjun,' she choked out. 'I feel like such a failure.'
Arjun sat beside her, his hand gently resting on hers. 'Stop it, Riya. You're not a failure. You're doing the best you can.' He paused, then continued in a softer tone, 'You're a wonderful mother, and Aryan is lucky to have you.'
He saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the fear that she was letting him down. He knew she felt responsible for this situation, but it wasn't her fault. This wasn't a failure; it was a hurdle they had to overcome together.
'We'll figure this out,' he repeated, his voice steady and reassuring. 'We'll find a way to feed him, even if it means doing it ourselves.'
He looked at her, a different kind of warmth blooming in his eyes. 'You know, there's this thing called 'hand expression', where you can manually extract the milk. We could try that...'
His words hung in the air, a suggestion both practical and intimate. Riya looked at him, a mixture of shock and confusion on her face.
'Hand expression? You?' she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
'Why not, my love?' Arjun said, his voice soft and reassuring. 'We're a team, remember? We'll do whatever it takes to give Aryan the best possible start.'
He stood up and walked over to the cupboard, retrieving a small, sterile breast pump. He placed it on the bed, then turned back to Riya, who was still sitting there, a mix of fear and intrigue in her eyes.
'It's okay, Riya,' he said, gently taking her hand. 'I'll do it slowly, carefully. And trust me, it'll be worth it. Just watch and let me know if anything feels uncomfortable.'
Riya nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on him. As he began to demonstrate the technique, his touch was gentle, his movements deliberate. Each squeeze, each release, was a symphony of care and tenderness. He was so focused, so dedicated, that it took Riya's breath away.
As the first drops of milk began to flow, a sense of relief washed over Riya, followed by a wave of unexpected emotion. It wasn't just the relief of knowing their baby would be fed, it was the depth of her love for Arjun, for his willingness to step in, to take on this responsibility without a single complaint.
The awkwardness that had been palpable between them melted away, replaced by a deep understanding. This wasn't just an act of practicality; it was an act of love, a testament to their unwavering commitment to their family.
Days turned into weeks, and the routine became their new normal. Arjun, the 'Milkman,' as Riya jokingly called him, would sit by her side, patiently expressing her milk, his touch a constant source of comfort and reassurance. He would rock Aryan to sleep, hum soft lullabies, and even change his diapers with a gentle efficiency that surprised even him.
As they spent countless hours together, caring for their little one, a bond grew between them that was deeper than ever before. The shared responsibility, the intimate moments of caring for their child, brought them closer, their love deepening with every passing day.
One evening, as Arjun was feeding Aryan with the expressed milk, Riya leaned against him, her hand resting on his shoulder.
'Thank you, Arjun,' she whispered, her voice laced with emotion. 'Thank you for everything. I don't know what I would have done without you.'
Arjun turned to her, his eyes shining with love. 'There's nothing to thank me for, Riya,' he said, his voice husky. 'We're a team. We do this together. Always.'
As the weeks turned into months, the initial hurdle of Aryan's latching issue gradually faded into a distant memory. Riya's milk supply stabilized, and her confidence as a mother blossomed. But the experience had left an indelible mark on their relationship. It had deepened their understanding of each other, their love, and their commitment to their family.
Years later, as Aryan sat on his father's lap, listening to his mother tell a story, Arjun couldn't help but smile. The journey had been challenging, but it had also been a beautiful testament to the strength of their love, a love that transcended the boundaries of conventional roles and responsibilities.
He looked at Riya, her eyes sparkling with love as she watched their son. He knew, with a certainty that transcended words, that they had found a love that was not only romantic, but also a profound, unshakeable bond built on shared experiences, mutual support, and an unwavering commitment to each other, and their little family.
End
Version 2 Below 
Another intrusive thought of mine resulting into this 🙈🥰. Please drop your creative criticism! Thank you & hope you enjoyed!
Love,
Saraf
Pati Patni Aur Panga
Hindi TV Shows
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
429