MoRan OS Collections

The Colors of Courage

The aroma of freshly baked cake filled the cozy living room, mingling with the laughter of a little girl, her eyes sparkling with delight. Soumya, nicknamed Baby by the family, was turning eight today. The house, once filled with the echoing silence of grief, now resonated with the joyous hum of life.

Karan, standing tall in his crisp military uniform, watched Baby excitedly unpack her birthday gifts. A smile bloomed on his face as he observed his wife, Monami, dressed in a casual cotton dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, tenderly guiding Baby through unwrapping the presents.

'Monami, you know you don't need to do all this,' Karan said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. 'She's eight, not eight months.'

Monami laughed, her eyes twinkling. 'She's still my little girl,' she retorted, her fingers tracing the intricate design on a handmade card Baby had gifted her. 'Besides, I enjoy it.'

She glanced at Karan, her gaze softening. 'And,' she added, her voice dropping to a whisper, 'it's nice to have a distraction.'

Karan's eyebrows furrowed in concern. 'What do you mean, 'distraction'?'

Monami avoided his gaze, fiddling with a button on her dress. 'Nothing,' she mumbled, then quickly changed the subject. 'Let's make a wish, Baby.'

Soumya, oblivious to the unspoken tension, blew out the candles on the cake, her eyes closed tight as she made her wish.

It had been a year since Karan and Monami had tied the knot. In the beginning, it was a whirlwind of emotions. Monami had joined the army, becoming a commando after rigorous training under Karan's watchful eye. Their marriage was a testament to their unwavering love and shared commitment to service, a bond forged in the crucible of military life.

They had found solace and purpose in caring for Barkha, Karan's brother's widow, and her daughter, Soumya. Barkha, a woman whose world had crumbled after her husband's untimely demise, slowly found strength and a renewed sense of purpose in the warmth of their family.

But for the past few weeks, Monami had been experiencing a strange unease. A constant, low-grade nausea, bouts of fatigue, and an overwhelming urge for sleep - all symptoms she was familiar with from her medical training. This morning, she had even woken up feeling unusually tender in her stomach.

The doctor in her knew what it meant. Yet, she hesitated to share her suspicions with Karan. Fear gnawed at her. How would he react? Was he ready for the responsibility of fatherhood?

That evening, after Baby was tucked into bed, Karan joined Monami in the kitchen, where she was preparing a light dinner. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken thoughts.

'You seem quiet tonight,' Karan said, his voice gentle.

Monami took a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly. 'I'm just tired,' she said, forcing a smile.

Karan reached out and took her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. 'You haven't been yourself for a while,' he said, his voice laced with concern. 'Is something wrong?'

Monami bit her lip, her eyes welling up. 'Karan,' she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. 'There's something I need to tell you.'

She took a deep breath, her voice trembling. 'I think I might be...'

Her voice trailed off, unable to utter the words.

Karan's eyes widened in shock. He leaned closer, his hand gently cupping her face. 'Monami, what is it?' he asked softly.

Monami met his gaze, tears streaming down her cheeks. 'I think I might be pregnant,' she whispered.

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Then, Karan's face broke into a wide smile. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his laughter echoing through the room.