Infinite

Chapter 2

Food was an emotion Khushi had lived by. Born to a sweet shop owner and brought up in the fast food alleys of Lucknow, food, to her, wasn't only something she ate when she was hungry. It was so much more. Food was fulfilling. It was happiness. And to think a day would come when she would recoil at the sight of a plate full of perfectly glazed, piping hot jalebis was something she had never imagined would happen to her. She couldn't believe that the smell of cooking dal now sent her stomach revolting.

She, along with the rest of the Raizada family, were gathered in the living room of Shantivan for the evening. Apart from it being a family tradition of sorts to get together every weekend if possible, she and Arnav had also temporarily relocated to the main house. Khushi's pregnancy combined with Arnav's frequent travels had made everyone in the family suggest that it would be better if they moved into Shantivan for a while. Not to forget the fact that she was having a really difficult time with her morning sickness. That way, Khushi wouldn't be left alone to fend for herself during difficult times and the family could also spend time with them. After all, everyone was beyond elated about the prospect that there would soon be a new addition to the family.

Khushi had always believed pregnancy cravings were a real phenomenon. She had heard stories from her mother, Anjali and Payal and even the elders of the family about what they craved during their pregnancy. Nani had told her about Arnav's Amma that when she had been pregnant with Arnav, she had eaten so much sweets in the initial months that her blood sugar shot right up and she had to be on a strict diet toward the end.

But Khushi didn't have one.

She just wasn't afforded the luxury of cravings. At over four months, not yet, at least. In fact, most of the times all she did was be preoccupied about getting enough food in her for her and the baby and keeping it in.

Evenings were worse. Just like now.

"Why the hell is it called morning sickness then?" Arnav had remarked one day.

If only she knew. If ever there was a misnomer, then 'morning' sickness had to be it. Whoever coined the term should see her vomiting her gut out - whatever the time of the day.

As Rahim chacha scurried to serve everyone the evening tea and snacks, Khushi put her hand up to stop him.

"Rehne dijiye chacha (let it be, uncle). I'll take it later."

"What happened?" Arnav who was at her side, turned his attention to her, his demeanor anxious and her heart turned into mush.

Amidst all her strain, it was moments like these that filled Khushi with warmth at all the care and attention she received from her husband. Not that he hadn't been attentive before, but he somehow managed to be even more so now.

When she vomited for the first time all those weeks ago, he had been scared out of his mind. But ever since that and a hundred questions to her doctor later, he had learned the pattern and now made sure he was just there for her, if not anything else, by keeping a glass of lemon juice or ginger tea ready to soothe her. He panicked every time her face contorted. He woke up when she changed sides at night. He would be right beside her, holding her head, rubbing her back every time she threw up. If she woke up to pee, he would stay awake until she came back to bed.

With him by her side, this didn't feel like this was a huge discomfort at all. And when she had looked up at him with gratitude one day, he had just said, "Khushi, you are having my baby. What I'm doing this is nothing in comparison. This is the least I could do."

How much love and empathy this tough man held within, only she would know. He might claim otherwise, but she didn't believe him. Not six years ago. Not now.