We held hands until the nurse called our name.
Inside, the doctor flipped through our file, her face unreadable. After a long moment, she said,
“Some changes. Not major, not worse. Let’s wait and see.”
There it was again.
Let’s wait and see.
Three words that felt both like a lifeline and a punishment.
I looked at Lavina. She smiled. Not big. Not confident.
But real.
And real was enough.
Outside, she exhaled.
“Maybe it’s a good sign.”
I nodded. “Maybe.”
Maybe.
A word we had built our whole life on.
Lavina
On the bus ride home, I rested my head on his shoulder.
His arm circled my waist unconsciously. The sky outside the bus window was half-sunny, half-cloudy.
Half hope.
Half fear.
When we reached home and climbed the stairs, he squeezed my hand and said quietly,
“Abhi jo bhi ho, hum saath hain. Bas yahi sabse bada result hai.”
(Whatever happens now, we're together. That’s the biggest result.)
I didn’t answer. I just leaned against him, letting that truth settle.
Sometimes the only medicine is someone’s steady presence.
Sometimes silence is more honest than reassurance.
Life shifted again.
Not dramatically.
Just in small ways.
Morning didn’t start with medicines anymore.
Just chai, and the sound of him brushing his teeth.
He’d leave for the office. I’d watch from the balcony.
Neighbours had stopped asking questions. For now.
But every time a baby cried in the next building, something inside my chest tightened not painfully, just like a reminder I hadn’t asked for.
Still, I tried.
I hummed old Bollywood songs while cooking.
I texted him “khana khaya?”
He replied with “haan, aur tum?”
Small things.
Little stitches holding our days together.
One evening I found an old college fest photo. Us laughing under coloured lights. He had his arm around me like he owned the world.
When he came home, tired and dusty, I showed it to him.
He smiled. “We look like kids who thought love was easy.”
I said softly, “Maybe we still are.”
He laughed. I laughed.
And for one moment, it felt like sunlight.
Aarjak
Things at work were the same.
But I wasn’t.
I didn’t avoid my reflection anymore.
When colleagues cracked jokes, I could actually smile.
Thin, but real.
12. Something has changed
Start from the beginning
