Chapter 50: EPILOGUE

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Postpartum was a relentless beast. The joy of motherhood fought a constant battle with the exhaustion, the hormonal rollercoasters, and the lingering physical changes. Prisha ran a hand over her stomach, the skin softer than she remembered, the clothes fitting just a little tighter.

Abhiman walked in, his eyes instantly softening as he took in her worried expression. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "What's wrong, jaan?"

"I just… I don't feel like myself," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I've gained so much weight. I look different. Do you… do you still think I'm pretty?"

His embrace tightened. "Prisha," he said, his voice low and sincere, "you are the most beautiful woman in the world to me. You created our babies. You are strong, you are radiant, and you are everything I could ever want."

His words were meant to soothe, but the postpartum demons were relentless. "But I’m not," she insisted, tears welling in her eyes. "I’m not the woman you fell in love with. I’m… I’m less." The hormonal surge of emotion sent a wave of sadness and inadequacy crashing over her. She pulled away, turning her back to him. "Don't lie to me, Abhiman. Just don't."

Abhiman felt a pang of helplessness. He hated seeing her like this, consumed by self-doubt. He knew that logic and reasoning were often useless against the tide of postpartum emotions. He needed to do something different, something impactful.

He gently touched her shoulder. "Come with me," he said, his voice calm and reassuring.

He led her down to the home gym they had set up in the basement. Prisha watched, confused, as he started to warm up. He loaded the barbell, adding plates until the weight was significantly heavier than anything she'd ever seen him lift regularly.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

He didn't answer. He just squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and gripped the bar. With a grunt and a surge of power, he effortlessly deadlifted the weight. He held it for a moment, his muscles straining, then lowered it gently back to the ground. The sound of the bar hitting the floor echoed in the silence.

He turned to her, sweat glistening on his forehead. "That," he said, pointing to the barbell loaded with what was essentially twice her weight, "is nothing compared to the weight you carried for nine months. Do you understand? You are the strongest person I know. You are still lightweight, Prisha. Always will be, compared to you."

The raw display of physical strength, combined with the underlying message, finally broke through the wall of insecurity that Prisha had built around herself. She stared at him, tears blurring her vision, but this time, they were different tears. Tears of relief, of gratitude, of a flicker of hope.

He walked towards her, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "Come here," he said, extending his arms.

She hesitated for a moment, then stepped into his embrace. He held her tight, burying his face in her hair. "You are amazing, Prisha. Don't ever forget that."

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around.

Prisha gasped, momentarily surprised, then burst into a giggle. The sound, pure and joyful, filled the room. It was the first genuine laugh she'd had in weeks. The dizziness from the spinning, combined with the sheer absurdity of the situation, broke the dam of her worries, if only for a moment.

As he gently set her back on her feet, she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. "You're crazy," she said, still giggling.

"Crazy about you," he replied, kissing her forehead. "Always."

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