Page 140 of Mrs. Rathore

A gentle knock sounded on the door. “Avni? Are you alright? You’re not… sick, are you?”

“No,” I lied, forcing my voice to sound casual. “Just a little nauseous, that’s all. I’ll be out in a second.”

“Do you want to see a doctor?”

“No, Aryan!” I snapped, unable to mask the irritation.

I saw his shadow pause outside the door, unsure, concerned. Maybe confused by my sudden mood swings. I hated how he still cared so deeply even when I was withdrawing into myself.

Fifteen minutes passed before I emerged from the bathroom.

Aryan immediately sprang from the bed, eyes scanning my face. “You don’t look okay.”

I looked into his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it all out in a single, world-shifting breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

And the silence swallowed us whole.

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Chapter 57

AVNI

“What?” Aryan exclaimed, stunned into stillness, his eyes scanning me from head to toe as if I might drop his baby onto the floor that very second.

As realization dawned on him, his expression shifted completely. He covered his mouth, unable to hide the radiant joy spreading across his face.

Happiness. Right.

He was on cloud nine at the thought of becoming a father to a baby I never intended to bring into this world. I, on the other hand, felt the exact opposite.

God would never show me mercy for thinking about my unborn baby like that.

“Oh my God, Avni!” Aryan exclaimed, scooping me into his arms and spinning me around with infectious excitement.

I clutched his shoulders, trying to steady my body as my face turned pale.

What kind of woman was I? I was unhappy to see my husband happy after discovering we were going to be parents.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” he breathed, his voice full of wonder. “I mean really, truly happy. It’s that kind of feeling that fills you up and makes you want to laugh and cry allat once. It’s not about something big or extravagant; it’s just this moment. Right now with you.”

“Please… put me down,” I choked, almost angrily.

Aryan froze. His smile vanished the moment he registered the flatness in my voice.

Gently, he lowered me to the floor, his hands still protectively on my waist, before he helped me sit on the bed. He handed me a glass of water, his warm palm resting on my shoulder. He didn’t speak. He just waited as I took slow sips, allowing the silence to settle like dust between us.

Once my throat was steady enough, I placed the glass on the nightstand and met his eyes.

“Are you… not happy about this?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

His face fell when I said nothing because my silence was louder than words. I looked away, down at my trembling hands, avoiding his gaze.

“Avni,” he said, gently holding my shoulders. “Look at me. Please, tell me what you want.”

“You know my dance competition is in five months. If I keep the baby, I’ll be seven months pregnant by then. That means I won’t be able to participate.” My voice faltered. “The last time I was supposed to perform, that accident happened. And now… this.”

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