The prime minister's lovely wife

Chapter 8

Months bled into years, a whirlwind of milestones and challenges. The negotiations for peace with our neighbor proved more fragile than we'd anticipated. There were setbacks, accusations flung across the table, the threat of war always simmering just beneath the surface. Each night, Siya's presence became my anchor, her calm demeanor a balm to the anxieties swirling within me.

Then, amidst the political turmoil, a tiny miracle occurred. Siya's pregnancy test yielded a positive result, a splash of pink joy amidst the sea of political gray. The news filled the Khanna household with ecstatic shrieks, Amma fussing over Siya, Rohan cracking bad jokes about sleepless nights, and even the usually stoic Appa sporting a hesitant smile.

Siya's pregnancy, however, wasn't without its complications. Morning sickness, fatigue, and a heightened sense of worry about my safety added to the burdens she already carried. I ached to be there for her more, to provide the constant support she deserved. Yet, the demands of  my office were unrelenting.

One particularly grueling day, after a heated session in Parliament, I found Siya curled up on the couch, a pale version of her usual vibrant self. Nausea wracked her frail frame, and my heart clenched with a mixture of guilt and helplessness.

"Siya, I'm so sorry," I whispered, placing a hand on her forehead. "I wish I could…"

She forced a weak smile. "You're doing what you have to do, Arjun. And believe me, you wouldn't want me sitting in those stuffy Parliament halls."
Her words held a playful edge, but I knew the truth. The stress of the job, the constant security threats, it wasn't an environment for a pregnant woman. Yet, I couldn't abandon my responsibilities.

That night, as I lay awake beside a sleeping Siya, a new resolve solidified within me. I would have to find a way to create a balance. I would delegate more, prioritize my time ruthlessly, and carve out time for my growing family.

The following days were dedicated to creating a routine, a delicate dance between my national duties and my responsibilities as a husband soon-to-be-father. Early mornings were spent with Siya, stolen moments of breakfast shared in bed, discussing plans for the nursery.  Evenings, whenever possible, were dedicated to her, reading baby books, listening to her hopes and anxieties about motherhood.

The media, of course, had a field day. The Prime Minister and his pregnant wife became a constant source of national interest. Siya, ever graceful, leveraged this attention to advocate for maternity leave policies and prenatal healthcare access.  Her public appearances, her growing baby bump a symbol of hope for many Indian women, resonated deeply with the nation.

Then, finally, the day arrived. A crisp morning in August, the air thick with anticipation. I held Siya's hand as she was wheeled into the delivery room, a mix of fear and excitement knotting my stomach.

The hours that followed were a blur of anxious pacing, hushed conversations with doctors, and a torrent of emotions that threatened to drown me. Finally, a healthy baby girl's cry shattered the tension. Stepping into the recovery room, I was greeted by the sight of Siya, pale but radiant, holding a tiny bundle of perfection in her arms.

Our daughter, Ananya, became the center of our universe. The sleepless nights, the mountains of dirty diapers, the constant burping and soothing – it was all a blur of love and exhaustion. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was an unparalleled joy, a sense of completion that I hadn't known I craved.

Ananya's arrival did present new challenges. Finding childcare proved a logistical nightmare, security details had to be adjusted, and stolen moments together became even more precious.  But as we navigated these obstacles, our love deepened, strengthened by the bond we shared as parents.

One evening, as Siya cradled a sleeping Ananya in her arms, a question slipped from my lips. "Do you ever regret this, Siya? The arranged marriage, the life in the public eye?"

She looked up at me, her eyes soft with affection. "There have been moments of doubt, of course," she admitted. "But you, Arjun, you make it all worthwhile. We may not have had a traditional love story, but we've built something special, something that thrives amidst the chaos."

Her words echoed a truth within me.  Our love story might not have begun with whispered promises under a starlit sky, but it had grown over time, nurtured by shared dreams, unwavering support, and the resilience of two souls intertwined in the face of duty and love.  And as I held Siya close, our daughter nestled between us, a picture of our unconventional family, I knew that.