Three gentle kicks beneath her ribs pulled Hiya from her studies.
She smiled, cradling her belly.
"Okay, little one," she whispered, placing her pen down. "You win this round."
Books were open, flashcards scattered on the floor, and the evening sun kissed the study room through gauzy curtains. She leaned back in the chair, her hand moving instinctively over the curve of her stomach. Her body ached differently these days — slower, fuller, purposeful.
And yet, she hadn't missed a single class.
Dev's sweater hung loosely over her, sleeves rolled up, and her anklets chimed softly as she waddled toward the kitchen.
Inside, Ma was rolling dough, Riddhi was humming an old Bengali lullaby, and Baba was reading recipes on his phone.
Dev appeared behind her suddenly, stealing a kiss on her cheek.
"Studying or snoozing again?" he teased.
"I passed three chapters before the baby asked for a break."
He gently touched her belly, whispering, "You heard that? You already rule her."
"Her?"
"I've always imagined a little girl with your stubbornness and my forehead."
Riddhi piped in, "As long as she doesn't inherit your mood swings, Dev!"
Everyone laughed.
Later that night, in the soft sanctuary of their bedroom, Dev rubbed balm on Hiya's swollen feet. She leaned back against the headboard, eyes half-lidded from comfort.
"You didn't have to," she murmured.
"I wanted to. I still can't believe I'm going to be a father."
She reached for his hand, weaving her fingers through his.
"I can," she said. "Because this child already knows what love feels like. We've wrapped them in it from the very start."
He leaned forward, resting his head on her belly, whispering a lullaby he'd made up — a song with no rhyme, just warmth.
Hiya stroked his hair, her body heavy, her heart full.
One Week Later
The nursery smelled of fresh paint and sandalwood. Tiny clothes were folded into neat piles. Wooden toys from Riddhi, soft quilts from Ma, and a mobile Dev assembled himself hung above the crib.
Outside, the entire Basu family was setting up decorations — not a baby shower, but a quiet celebration of life, of resilience, of the journey they all made together.
Hiya stood at the window, watching them laugh and argue over balloons and paper flowers. Her eyes welled up.
Dev came from behind, wrapping his arms gently around her.
"I always thought I had to earn everything," she whispered. "But you… you all just gave. Loved. Stayed."
He kissed her neck. "You earned it by being you, Hiya. You whispered to love... and it came."
Epilogue
A few months later…
A soft cry echoed in the quiet of their new home.
Dev tiptoed into the nursery, lifting a baby girl swaddled in peach.
Hiya sat up slowly, her hair tied in a messy bun, eyes tired but glowing.
Dev placed their daughter in her arms, then kissed both their foreheads.
"Welcome to our chaos, little one," Hiya whispered.
Their daughter cooed in response, tiny fingers curling around Hiya's pinkie.
Outside the window, the wind moved through the chime pole — the same one that once swayed over Sangha.
Dev sat beside her, watching the girl — their girl.
In the hush of night, wrapped in stories and sleepless wonder, love had finally come home.
THE END