𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐭�...

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Vote -21 | comment 42
(Jaldi jaldi poora krdiya karoo yaaaaaaar😔)

"Two lines, one future, all hearts

A U T H O R' S   P O V

6:00 AM

The room's bell rang.

Ishaan groaned, still half-asleep, and dragged himself to the door, pulling it open just slightly.

Outside stood Ivaan—messy hair, sleepy eyes, and four damn bags hanging off his arms.

"Bhai... you're fucking lucky, you know that?" Ivaan smirked. "And seriously sir... ab toh shaadi kar le bhabi k sath.. Budha ho raha hai tu."

Ishaan rolled his eyes, snatched the bags from him.
"Bhaad mein ja," he muttered with a slap to Ivaan's back, playful but strong enough to make him grunt.

"Bye, loser," Ivaan grinned, stepping back.

Before he could finish laughing, Ishaan shut the door right on his face with a smirk.

He tossed the bags onto the center table and made his way back to the only place that felt like home lately—Lavika's arms.

𝜗ৎ

Two Hours Later

Lavika stirred, blinking sleepily.

And there he was—her man, wrapped around her like a weighted blanket.

Completely knocked out.

His leg was slung over her hips, his nose buried in her neck, one arm protectively around her waist.

She smiled, but carefully wriggled free.

Her thighs were still sore.

Every step reminded her of the night they'd had.

She was about to nudge Ishaan awake when her eyes landed on the bags on the table.

Curious, she padded over and peeked inside.

A neatly folded white ribbed tank top.
A red shrug.
Light blue straight jeans—her size.
Shoes. A dainty little neckpiece.
Everything... perfectly her.

Lavika flushed a deep pink, her fingers brushing over the outfit.

"He remembered my size? The inseam too?"
Her smile widened, heart fluttering.

A/N: "Why is it so easy to make a girl blush, huh?"

She walked to the bathroom with the clothes in hand, turned on the shower, and stepped in—welcoming the water on her skin.

𝜗ৎ

The sound of running water pulled Ishaan from sleep.

He squinted at the bathroom door, stretched lazily, then walked up to it and knocked.

"Jaan? Akele-akele kyun chale gayi? Mujhe bhi le chalo yaar..."

The water stopped.

He was about to tease again, when suddenly the door opened.

And there she stood.

Naked. Dripping. Glowing.

"Don't you wanna join?" she said with a crooked smile.

In less than 0.1 seconds, Ishaan was in.
The door clicked shut behind him.

He didn't waste a moment, throwing off his towel.

In seconds, both stood bare under the warm stream.

His eyes devoured her slowly, reverently.

Then he cupped her breasts in his hands, massaging them gently.
She winced and gasped.
"Still sore?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "Y-Yeah... just a bit."

But he didn't stop—just softened his touch.

His other hand slid down to her ass and landed a soft, teasing slap.

She let out a hiss, gripping the glass wall.

"Ishaan... I called you for a shower, not another make-out session..."

He leaned in, brushing her wet hair aside.
"Sorry, jaan... but what do you expect when you look like a literal goddess under this water? My horny eyes have no self-control."

She giggled, melting into his mouth as he kissed her—slow, wet, and intense.

𝜗ৎ

15 minutes later

They stepped out—dripping, breathless, and smudged with heat.

Ishaan wrapped a towel around his waist, running a hand through his hair.

Lavika stood in front of the mirror, applying light lotion before slipping into the outfit he'd arranged for her.

"You like it?" he asked, watching her from behind.

She smiled at their reflection. "I love it."

𝜗ৎ

Once dressed, Ishaan grabbed the room's landline and hit room service.

"Hi, yeah. Please send up brunch of french toast topped with fresh fruits nd whipped cream , served alongside a waffle with scrambled eggs and bacon"

He looked at Lavika and winked.
"Yours, right?"

She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek.
"You're lucky I love food more than I love arguing."

He grinned.
"And I'm lucky you're mine."

To their surprise, room service knocked in under 7 minutes.

Lavika, true to herself, began clicking aesthetic shots of the food.

Angles. Lighting. Close-ups.

Ishaan raised an eyebrow. "Jaan, khaa lo na. Baad mein click kar lena. Aapko bhukh bhi lagi hai."

She giggled. "Yes, sir. Eating."

𝜗ৎ

9:30 AM

They stepped out of their room.

Today was shifting day.

Lavika had gotten two days off from the hospital—her birthday and today.

So, today was the day she'd move in with Ishaan permanently.

Ishaan made a call. "Send two workers to 209, Elmwood Street. We're shifting and cleaning the apartment."

They reached her apartment by 10:00 AM.

Two guys stood waiting near the door—one desi-looking, lean, early twenties, and one tall with sharp features.

Lavika had a soft pink rose in her hand—something Ishaan bought her from a roadside shop.

Ishaan held her last night's dress casually.

Lavika smiled, "Would you like some water?"

Both nodded.

"What's your name, sir?"

"I'm Sahil. He's David," one said with a kind smile.

Before Lavika could respond, Ishaan's voice cut in.

"Bas naam le liya, ab kaam karo chalo," he said with an arched brow, eyes narrowing slightly.

Jealous? Absolutely.

Lavika smirked but let it pass.

They guided the workers.

"Please start with the kitchen," Lavika said. "Pack everything except the electric kettle, one frypan, and the essentials in this box."

Sahil and David nodded and got to work.

Lavika went to her room to pack clothes.

Within minutes, Ishaan followed and locked the door behind them.

"Lavs," he whispered, cornering her, "I need energy. Also... mujhe theek nahi lagta you're asking cute guys their names."

She burst into laughter. "Oh my god, are you serious?"

But his lips found hers.

Right as they were halfway into a kiss—

Knock Knock.

"Lavika ma'am? Ma'am... we need to know about the kitchen stuff. Can you help us?"

Lavika sighed into Ishaan's shoulder, lips swollen. "Later..."

1 hour later

Ishaan sat on the couch with his phone and laptop, attending a video meeting.

His sleeves were rolled, hair slightly messy, a coffee beside him.

Lavika had been inside her room for 20 minutes.

𝜗ৎ

L A V I K A' S  P O V

I was folding my jeans when I felt my phone buzz.

A notification from my period tracker app.

"Hey lavikaa, You're 10 days lateee"

WHAT?!

I froze. Then chuckled awkwardly.

"It's normal," I whispered to myself. "Stress. Hormones. Flight delay. Birthday thingie. No biggie."

Still... a voice in my head nagged,

What if?

My period never get late.
Not even a day or half.

I couldn't order a pregnancy kit.

Ishaan was outside.

And I wasn't ready for that question yet.

So I came out casually.

He looked up from his screen. "Kaha jaa rahi ho?"

I gestured with my hand. "Shanaya ke ghar. Thoda catching up."

"Jaan, main chalta hoon. Ya shaam mein ek saath chalte hai."

"No, Shaan. Aapke saath jana hota toh bol deti. But Sahil and David kaam kar rahe hain... I'll just go now. Alone."

He eyed me suspiciously but then handed over the car keys. "Jaldi aana."

"Of course."

THANK GOD.

I drove straight to the nearest pharmacy.

Bought a pack of two pregnancy test kits.

Didn't even meet the chemist's eye.

Filled the name, number. Paid cash.
Kept it in my purse. Heart pounding.

What if... it's positive?

What if it's double-lined?

On the drive back, my fingers tapped the steering wheel nervously.

Everything was going too perfect.

But what if this... changes everything?

A U T H O R' S  P O V

The door clicked open.

Lavika stepped inside her apartment, clutching her handbag like it carried secrets too fragile for the world.

Ishaan looked up from where he was helping Sahil tape a box shut.

His eyes immediately narrowed.

She wasn't supposed to be back so soon.

And definitely not like this—eyes distant, lips pale, shoulders curled in.

"You're back early," he said, brows lifting slightly.

Lavika nodded. "Shanaya cancelled. She had to go somewhere suddenly."

Her voice was too even. Too flat.

Ishaan exchanged a quick glance with David, then stood.

Sahil stepped aside, giving her space.

"You okay?" Ishaan asked, walking toward her.

She gave him a tight smile. "Yeah. Just tired. Head's pounding."

Her fingers curled tighter around her bag as she walked into her room, slow, controlled.

Ishaan watched her every movement.

She didn't even glance at the workers or the half-empty living room. Usually, she'd crack a joke. Comment on how messy everything looked.

But today—nothing.

Just silence.

And retreat.

𝜗ৎ

L A V I K A' S   P O V

I shut the door behind me softly. Not loud.
I didn't want him to follow.

My hands were sweating.

The plastic of the test kit was poking against the inside of my bag like it knew it was the villain in my 온라인카지노게임.

The moment I locked the bathroom door, I felt the air shift.

Colder.

Quieter.

Like the world paused just for me to fall apart.

I placed my handbag gently on the counter, unzipping it slowly—as if the sound itself might crack me open.

The white pharmacy packet peeked out.

That stupid pink-and-white box inside—mocking me.

I swallowed.

Pulled it out with shaky fingers.

I stared at the instructions on the back even though I had watched three YouTube videos about it before buying it.

Still, the words felt foreign now.

Remove the cap.
Hold the absorbent tip in urine for 5 seconds.
Place on flat surface.
Wait for 3 minutes.

Three minutes.

That's all it takes to change a life.

I unwrapped it clumsily, the foil louder than I wanted it to be.

It echoed off the tiles.

The stick was sleek, pale, harmless-looking.

But it felt like a grenade in my hand.

I lifted the toilet seat and sat down, breathing heavily.

My eyes closed.

Just pee. Just do it.

But my body froze.

Heart racing.

Mouth dry.

The stick trembled between my fingers as I tried to angle it.

I hated every second.

Of how clinical it felt.

Of how terrifying.

Finally, a warm trickle.

I counted in my head, voice shaking in a whisper.

"One... two... three... four... five..."

Done.

I put the cap back on, hands shaking badly now.

Laid it flat on the sink slab, facing away from me.

I couldn't look.

I didn't want to.

Instead, I stared at the floor.

My bare feet.

The tiny crack in the tile I never noticed before.

My breathing hitched.

What if it's positive?

What if it's not and I'm just being stupid?

I wrapped my arms around my knees, sitting on the bathroom floor.

Pulling my legs close like they could hide me.

I didn't even realise I was crying until my chin wobbled and a hot tear slid down the corner of my mouth.

This wasn't how I imagined finding out.

Not in a half-packed apartment.

Not with strangers in the next room.

Not with a man I love knocking on the door and having no idea what's happening inside me.

Three minutes.

I forced myself to look at the stick.

Leaned forward slowly.

My vision blurred, lashes sticky with tears.

Two lines.

Two.

Dark. Visible. Real.

It was like the breath got punched out of my lungs.

A sob escaped before I could hold it back.

I reached out to grab the edge of the sink, but missed—and ended up sliding down to the cold tile again, a mess of tears, breath, and fear.

"I can't—"

My voice cracked like glass.

I curled up.

Fists to my lips.

Crying, but quietly.
The kind where your chest hurts more than your throat.

I slumped against the bathroom wall, curling into myself.

My breath came out in soft sobs.
Not loud. But not quiet either.

My mouth trembled.

"I can't—" I whispered to no one. "I don't know how to say this to him."

I cried. Into my palms.
Into the silence of tile and white walls.

Everything blurred.

A U T H O R' S  P O V

He frowned as he heard the exhaust fan.

It had been ten minutes.

She hadn't come out.

And she hadn't taken a single glass of water, which was so not her.

He walked to the door and knocked—light, cautious.

"Lavika?"

No response.

Another knock.

"Baby? You okay?"

Still nothing.

He turned to Sahil and David. "Wrap up the last two boxes. I'll handle the rest for now, will call you back"

They nodded, sensing the shift in his tone.

He turned back to the door, knocking once more—this time firmer.

"Lavika. Open the door."

Inside, her body stiffened.

She wiped her face quickly, shoved the test into the cupboard beneath the sink.

Breathe. Just breathe.

But she couldn't stop the hiccups from crying. Her voice cracked.

"I'm fine!"

That one reply?

It broke him.

Because he knew her.
And that voice wasn't fine.

He leaned in, voice low, almost pleading now.

"Lavika... open the door. Please."

She stayed frozen, hands trembling on the doorknob.

And for a second—just a second—she considered opening it.

Letting him hold her.

Letting him know.

But instead, she whispered, almost inaudible:

"Not yet."

And Ishaan stepped back, confused, restless—and very, very suspicious.

L A V I K A' S   P O V

I didn't know how long I sat there, forehead pressed to the cold bathroom cabinet.

The tears had dried but the ache lingered in my chest like something unspoken.

I had shoved the test under the sink.

Out of sight, but not out of mind.

I could still feel Ishaan.

Right outside.

His presence wasn't loud—it was steady.

Unmoving. Waiting.

I stood up slowly.
Washed my face, twice.

Looked in the mirror and winced.
My eyes were swollen.
Red. Nose a little puffy.

There was no hiding it.

I unlocked the door with a soft click.
And opened it.

And there he was.

𝜗ৎ

A U T H O R' S  P O V

She stood there, finally.
In the doorway.

Her face looked like she'd walked through a storm.

Eyes raw.

Lips bitten.

And her body... so small.

Like she was carrying something too heavy, too big, alone.

He didn't ask.
Didn't need to.

He just took one long step forward—and cupped her cheeks, both hands warm and steady.

"Lavika..." His voice was barely a breath. "What happened, baby?"

Her lip quivered.

"I—" She blinked fast. "I didn't mean to cry. I just... I didn't know how to say it."

"Say what?" he asked softly, brushing a tear with his thumb.

She hesitated.

Took a breath.

And then placed his palm flat against her belly.

Trembling. Silent.

"It's... it's going to be the three of us now."

His entire world paused.

Not a blink.

Not a sound.

Just the feel of her under his hands and the faintest tremble of her words echoing in his heart.

Then—
"Are you serious?" His voice was hoarse.

She nodded once.

Tears gathering again.

"I took the test. Twice. It's... it's positive."

Her eyes searched his, terrified. "I don't know what we're going to do. I know this isn't the plan. And I didn't even know how to tell you, Ishaan. I was scared. I still am. I—"

He pulled her into his chest so suddenly, she gasped.

Arms locked around her.

Tighter. Tighter.

Like he needed to protect her from everything—thoughts, fear, time.

He buried his face in her hair, voice shaking:

"You're not alone in this. Ever."

She melted into him, chest heaving.

"I didn't want to ruin anything. Or make you feel trapped. Or—"

"Stop." He cupped her face again, making her look at him. "You could never ruin anything. You gave me the greatest news I've ever heard."

"I'm serious, Lavika." His lips pressed to her forehead. "You gave me everything in one second."

She cried again—but this time it was softer.

Relieved.

"And even if you weren't ready to tell me," he whispered, kissing the corner of her swollen eye, "I would've waited forever outside that door until you were."

"Ishaan..."

He bent a little, resting his forehead against hers.

Fingers sliding gently into her hair.

"You're my home, Lavika. You've been it from the start. And now... you're going to give us a family?"

His eyes glistened.
Genuinely glistened.

He smiled—wet and crooked.

"I think I'm going to die from loving you too much."

She laughed—a fragile, cracked sound—but it was a laugh.

He kissed her nose.
Her temple. The middle of her brows.

Then looked at her tummy again.

"Is it the size of a jellybean yet? Or like... a kaju?"

She giggled through tears, whispering, "I don't know. The app said like... a sesame seed maybe?"

"Oh. A spicy one, then," he teased, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her stomach.

Lavika's hands instantly tangled in his hair.

Her throat tightened again.

"Ishaan..."

"Yeah?"

"Are you... happy? Really?"

He stood up, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Lavika, I've never been more sure of anything. Ever."

"I don't care what the world thinks. We'll figure everything out. Wedding, home, baby clothes, sleepless nights, morning sickness—I'll be there through it all."

He kissed her lips gently—soft and lingering. Like he was anchoring her to him.

Then picked her up suddenly, bridal-style.

"Ishaan!"

He walked straight to the bed, laying her down carefully.

Shoes still on. Makeup half gone.
His shirt wrinkled from earlier chaos.

Didn't matter.

He climbed in beside her, pulled the blanket over both of them and wrapped her in his arms.

Her head tucked into his chest.

"I needed this," she whispered.

"You'll always have it."

His fingers stroked her back slowly. His lips pressed to the crown of her head.

"Rest now, mama bear."

She chuckled weakly. "I already hate that nickname."

"You'll grow into it."

And she lay there, cocooned in his arms.

Their hearts thudding.

The world outside moved on.

But here, in the quiet chaos of moving boxes and forgotten keys—

𝜗ৎ

I S H A A N' S  P O V

Evening crept in slow, quiet, like the world itself didn't want to disturb her.

Lavika had fallen asleep in my arms. Finally.

Her breathing had evened out, soft and warm against my throat, like she had exhaled every last piece of fear she was carrying.

She looked so small, curled up in my lap, her fingers still tangled in the front of my shirt like she'd sink without it.

I didn't move for hours.
I couldn't.

There was something holy about it.
My woman.
My child.
Wrapped up together in this moment, and I was holding both.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't just living.
I was becoming.

𝜗ৎ

It was dark by the time I finally slid her off my lap and onto the bed gently.

She stirred a little but didn't wake up.
Just curled into the pillow like it was me.
My heart fucking clenched.

I walked into the living room, pulled out my phone, and stared at it for a full minute.

Was I really about to do this?
Tell people?

I chewed the inside of my cheek.
Maybe I should wait till morning.
Maybe talk to her again. Maybe—

But then I looked back.
At her.
At us.
And I knew.

She's mine. This is ours.

And the people who love us... they deserve to know.

I opened WhatsApp and created a group call.

Ivaan.
Shanaya.
Riva.
Meher.

Her closest girls. My only brother.
Her chaos. My calm.
Our family.

The call rang.
And one by one—faces popped up.

Shanaya's towel was still in her hair. "Bhai? Kya hua? Sab thik?"
Ivaan looked suspicious. "Bro, you never call the group. This smells shady."
Meher squinted. "Wait—what's going on?"
Riva was sipping iced coffee and clearly mid-some dating gossip. "If this isn't an engagement announcement, I swear to God—"

I chuckled under my breath. "Not engaged. But..."

I turned the phone toward the bedroom.
She was stirring now. Probably hearing the buzz.

I walked in. Kissed her temple gently.
"Jaan," I whispered, brushing hair off her cheek, "wake up... everyone's on call."

She blinked at me, still half-asleep. "Wha...?"

"Just come," I said, lifting her to sit against me.

I cradled her in my lap, again, like my body was her permanent seat now.

I brought the phone into view.

And the second her sleepy face appeared—
Screams erupted.

"BABYYYYYY you look like a hot zombie!" — Shanaya.
"Why is she in his lap—again?" — Ivaan, rolling his eyes.
"Wait is this a prank?" — Riva
"Did you guys do it again?" — Meher, ever blunt.

Lavika groaned. "Oh my God. Shut up."

I kissed her cheek.
"Tell them."

She blinked. "What?"

"Tell them, jaan."

She looked at me. Then at the phone.
Then back.
And something shifted in her face.

A softness. A glow.
Even through exhaustion and blotchy eyes.
That mother softness.

She placed a hand gently on her lower belly.

And whispered, "I'm pregnant."

The reaction was... chaos.

Unfiltered. Cinematic.
Exactly what I expected from this circus of humans.

Shanaya didn't scream—she gasped like a dramatic Netflix queen, hand flying to her chest.
"Teri maa ki—You're not joking, right?"
Her towel slipped dangerously, but she didn't bother fixing it. Her eyes were locked on us like we were the final episode of her favourite K-drama.

Riva?
Dropped her coffee. Deadass.
Mug hit the floor and shattered.

Then she blinked. Once. Twice.
Eyes shiny. "OH MY GOD YOU'RE PREGNANT?"

She clutched her cheeks like she was watching a baby panda be born. "You're pregnant pregnant?? Like... with a heartbeat inside??"

Meher, our group's designated momma bear, just melted into tears.
Not dramatic, not loud—just warm, soft crying with her whole palm covering her mouth.
"My babies are having a baby," she sniffled, voice shaking.

And Ivaan?

That grumpy menace?
He froze. Blinking. Glitching like his system crashed. "Bro."
No movement. No expression.
Just stunned silence.

I pulled out the test kit and showed them.
Two lines. Bold. Loud. Undeniable.

Ivaan stared at it like it was a damn nuclear code.
"You're gonna be a father?"
I nodded.

Then?

He laughed. This weird, choked sound like his brain had finally caught up.

"Holy fuck. Holy fucking f—" He crouched down, hands in his hair, then popped back up like a jack-in-the-box. "I'm gonna be the hottest, most chaotic macha (mama + chacha)  this baby will ever see."

He wiped his eye aggressively. "And if you don't name it after me, I'll sue."

"You're not naming anyone," Shanaya said, finally fixing her towel with a smirk. "You'll teach the kid how to swear before it learns to walk."

"Shut up, Barbie," Ivaan snapped.
"No, you shut up."
"I swear on my Gucci sliders I'll block you."

Meher sighed, wiping her eyes. "Can the baby please grow up in peace?"

Meanwhile, Riva had pulled out her phone and was already editing a Pinterest board titled Lavika's Lil Bambi.

"You'll let me design the nursery, right? Think pastel bears and clouds—wait, gender reveal cake! Do we want a bunny theme or a forest one—"

Lavika?

Lavika laughed.

That soft, sleepy, happy laugh—the kind that made her whole shoulders shake and her nose scrunch up like she couldn't contain the joy.

I held her tighter.

My chest? Full.
My heart? Done for.

We ended the call only after locking in promises of "emergency baby shopping days," "name suggestion spreadsheets," and "weekly bump photo shoots."
(Which I vetoed. "The only ones naming our kid are us. Period.")

And still, Ivaan was in the background chanting,
"Chacha. Chacha. Chacha fucking vibes."

I placed the phone down, picked her up bridal style, and walked us into the kitchen.

"Food's coming in 15," I said, setting her on the counter. "Paneer tikka sliders for you, chili cheese fries for me, pasta.lemonade for both."

She grinned lazily. "We're really doing this."

I leaned in, cupped her face again.
"Yeah, baby. We really are."

And then—softly, slowly—
I kissed her.

Not desperate.
Not wild.
Just... full.

Of everything this moment meant.

L A V I K A' S   P O V

The pasta was now half-finished, fries demolished, and I was sipping cold lemonade from a glass so big it could drown a toddler.

I leaned back on the sofa, eyes drooping, belly full, and mood strangely... floaty.

Ishaan, who was still finishing his own plate, glanced sideways at me.

"You look like a queen after a royal feast."

"I am a queen," I declared, voice lazy. "A bloated, emotionally unstable, pregnant queen."

He chuckled, wiping his mouth. "Exactly the kind of queen I've always wanted to serve."

Sahil and David appeared from the bedroom with another box.

"We've wrapped up the books, sir," Sahil said, balancing the taped-up carton.

"Good. Be careful with that one," Ishaan said, standing up and grabbing the sides to help. "It has her childhood dairies. If even one page is bent, I'll lose my sex life."

"ISHAAAAN!" I nearly choked on my lemonade.

He looked innocent. "What? I'm just being transparent. It's good for work culture."

Sahil laughed under his breath. "Noted, sir."

I narrowed my eyes. "I swear, I'll throw this glass at you."

"No lifting," he shot back instantly, wagging a finger. "You're pregnant. You're banned from throwing, lifting, or moving anything heavier than a feather or your ego."

My mouth dropped open.

He winked and walked over to kiss my forehead. "Sit. Drink. Breathe. Let me and the boys do the grunt work."

I crossed my arms but melted into the couch again. "Fine. But if something goes missing—like my pink hoodie—I'll cry. And then sue."

"You can cry on me. And sue me with kisses," he said casually, already lifting another box.

"You're so annoying," I muttered.

"And so hot," he grinned, walking past me toward the door.

𝜗ৎ

I S H A A N' S  P O V

I was still wrapping my head around it.

Every time I glanced at her curled up on the sofa, sipping juice like a toddler in timeout, my heart clenched in ways I couldn't explain.

Was I terrified? Yes.
But was I also weirdly... glowing? Also yes.

"Careful with that one," I told David as he carried the glassware set. "If she sees even one chipped cup, she'll accuse me of emotional neglect."

David nodded with grave seriousness.

Meanwhile, Lavika sat cross-legged on the couch, watching us like we were a circus act.

"Did you label the 'important stuff' box?" she asked.

"What even is important?" I asked dramatically. "I found a box that had just five scrunchies and a broken snow globe."

"That's sentimental!"

"I sneezed and glitter came out of the cracks."

She gasped. "You're dead."

"Pregnant wives shouldn't threaten their husbands."

"We're not married yet."

I paused and grinned. "Wife-in-progress, then. Still counts."

She rolled her eyes but her cheeks went pink.

"Sir," Sahil called from the hallway. "The loader is parked. Ready to carry things down."

"Perfect." I rubbed my hands together. "Alright boys—operation Move Her Majesty is a go."

"Move yourself first!" Lavika piped.

"You're literally royalty now. Pregnant royalty. You've been upgraded to CEO of sitting and supervising."

She raised a brow. "Can I have a crown?"

"Sure. I'll craft one from packing tape and bubble wrap."

She looked pleased.

𝜗ৎ

Two hours later, the loader was nearly full.

Boxes of clothes, books, a stubborn full-length mirror, and a soft beanbag that Lavika refused to part with—everything was carefully stacked.

Lavika was still on the sofa, now half-asleep and holding her phone like a baby.

When I came back in for one last check, she mumbled, "My slippers... under the bed..."

I bent down, found them, and gently slipped them onto her feet. "Done."

Her eyes fluttered open. "You're spoiling me."

"You're growing our child. You've earned permanent princess status."

"You're being very... perfect."

I smiled, brushing her hair off her face. "I'm being in love."

She blinked at me.

Soft. Vulnerable. Safe.

"Come," I said, helping her up carefully. "Let's go home."

"To your apartment," she whispered.

"Our apartment," I corrected. "And soon... our baby's first home too."

She looked down at her belly.

And then at me.

And smiled. "Okay. Let's go."

L A V I K A' S P O V

The car ride was quiet.

Not awkward-quiet. Just... full. Of thoughts.
Of shifting boxes. Of shifting realities.

I had my seatbelt on, and a pillow wedged on one side to support my back (Ishaan made me take it). He was driving with one hand and kept the other resting lightly over my thigh, thumb moving in slow, lazy circles.

"I don't think I ever imagined this day like this," I whispered, head resting back.

He glanced over. "Which part? The shifting? The boxes? Or... the baby part?"

I turned to look at him. "All of it. I thought if we ever moved in together, it'd be after fighting for weeks about curtains or Netflix passwords."

He chuckled. "We did fight last week over hot sauce ownership. I still think that was mine."

"I bought it."

"I emotionally invested in it."

I laughed, finally letting my hand drop onto his.

It was raining lightly outside.

The London drizzle was coating the windows in a soft blur.

The kind that made everything feel like it was in slow motion.

I looked at him again.

Sharp jaw. Focused eyes.
The hand that now held mine like it was breakable and sacred.

"How are you feeling?" I asked softly. "Be honest."

He took a beat, then—

"Scared. Like I want to build a bunker around you. Or wrap you in bubble wrap and never let you move."

My lips curved.

"But also," he continued, eyes still on the road, "like my heart's been stretched to make space for something bigger. For two."

I didn't respond.

Because if I did, I'd cry again.

Instead, I leaned sideways, letting my head fall on his shoulder, careful of the seatbelt.

He didn't flinch. Just smiled and adjusted his driving so he could keep us steady.

A silence settled again.

But this time, it felt warm.

𝜗ৎ

The loader had reached before us.

David and Sahil were already there, unloading boxes with the help of the building staff Ishaan had bribed with Red Bulls and free coffee for the next month.

The rain had stopped.
But the cold was still in the air.

I stepped out slowly, still in my hoodie, leggings, and messy bun.

And I could feel Ishaan's eyes darting to my every step like a watchdog.

"Hold my hand," he muttered, already grabbing it before I could answer.

"I'm literally just stepping over a tiny puddle—"

"What if you slip?"

"I won't slip."

"But what if—"

"Ishaan, you're acting like I'm 9 months pregnant."

"You're pregnant pregnant. That's enough for me."

I narrowed my eyes, but let him guide me anyway.

Sahil waved from the back of the loader. "Ma'am, where do you want this mirror?"

I called out, "Just keep it inside near the right wall! And don't put it near that weird dusty plant again like last time—"

"Yes ma'am," both Sahil and David chorused, nodding like overachievers.

I turned back to Ishaan, who just smirked.

"What?" I asked.

"You're bossy now."

"I'm always bossy. You just never noticed because you were too busy being bossier."

He unlocked the front door and stepped aside dramatically. "After you, my queen."

I entered.

And paused.

The apartment smelled like him.

Wood. Coffee. Clean sheets.

And now, something faintly floral from my half-unpacked perfume box earlier.

My books were already stacked in a corner.

My lamp sat beside his.

My pink mug was placed beside his black one in the kitchen.

It hit me, in the softest, deepest way.

This wasn't his place anymore.

It was ours.

I swallowed.

He walked in behind me, nudging the door shut with his foot.

"You okay?" he asked, wrapping his arms from behind.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just... processing."

He kissed the top of my head. "Me too."

𝜗ৎ

Sahil and David finally left by 10.

Completely exhausted. Slightly sweaty.
And borderline traumatized by the number of throw pillows I insisted on keeping.

They both stood at the door, hair messy, clothes wrinkled, faces dazed like they'd been through war.

A war called Lavika's shifting checklist.

I leaned against the kitchen island, chewing a piece of garlic bread, while Ishaan pulled out his wallet.

And then—he did the most Ishaan thing ever.

He handed each of them a thick envelope.

"Ishaan sir... yeh toh—" Sahil's eyes widened, fingers clinging to it like he was holding a golden ticket.

David opened his, blinked, then blinked again. "Sir, this is—this is way too much."

Ishaan shrugged, all casual in his grey hoodie and joggers. "You two handled this entire shift like champs. No breaks. No dropped glassware. No unnecessary flirting with my girlfriend—"

David laughed nervously. Sahil froze.
I choked on the bread.

"I'm kidding," Ishaan deadpanned. "Mostly."

Then he added with a smirk, "Drinks on me for the month. Hell, make it the year. Go crazy."

They beamed.
Like actual kids on Christmas morning.

"Sir, thank you. Genuinely," Sahil said, shaking his hand, then turned to me with a dramatic sigh, "Ma'am, you'll miss us."

I grinned. "I already do."

They waved, backed away with their cart, and the door finally shut behind them.

And suddenly—

Silence.

Just us. Just this apartment.
Just the low hum of London outside the window.

I exhaled slowly, turning to find Ishaan already leaning against the door, arms crossed, watching me.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said softly. "Just... taking it all in."

I walked toward him.

"The fact that we're finally living together?"

"The fact that you're pregnant." His hand brushed against my belly—not possessive, not showy. Just gentle.

"And the fact," he added with a tiny smirk, "that I now have to share my walk-in closet with a woman who owns twelve different beige sweaters."

"Fourteen," I corrected, proudly.

He laughed, then stepped forward, wrapped his arms around me.

"Ready to unpack?"

"Define 'ready,'" I mumbled into his chest.

𝜗ৎ

Blankets spilled over the new cream couch.
A pizza box lay open on the coffee table.

My laptop was charging at one end.

Ishaan's phone was somewhere under the pillows.

And the floor?
A beautiful mess of open boxes and bubble wrap.

"This is not how I imagined our first night would go," I said, trying to fold my lehengas into a drawer he'd cleared for me.

"Same," he muttered from the other room. "I thought we'd be making out on the kitchen counter by now."

I laughed. "Give me three hours and a heating pad."

He peeked his head from the bedroom doorway, a pillow under one arm. "You still cramping?"

"Not really. Just overwhelmed."

He came over, sat cross-legged beside the half-empty box I was attacking.

"We can do this tomorrow, Lavi. Seriously. No rush."

"But I want to do this," I said. "I want to make this place feel like... us."

Ishaan was quiet for a second, then leaned forward, kissed my cheek, and whispered, "Then let's do it together."

𝜗ৎ

By 12:10, The bed was finally made.
My fairy lights were up.
His side of the bed had my Kindle and a black mug.

Mine had a pregnancy tracker app open, a heating patch, and a half-squished teddy I stole from his study.

We slid into bed.

Lights dimmed.

Silence.

Then—

"You sure you're okay with everything?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Positive?"

"Stop being annoying."

He grinned.

I turned to him, nose brushing his. "Ishaan?"

"Hm?"

"I'm a little scared too."

"I know."

"But if this baby has your eyes... and your patience... and even an ounce of your love—"

"Then they'll be the luckiest damn thing to ever exist," he finished for me.

I smiled.
Fell into his arms.

And as London faded into sleep, so did we.

In our chaos. In our quiet. In our beginning.

~ C H A P T E R A E S T H E T I C ~

-her ootd.

- his ootd.

- the morning breakie.

- the test.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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