"I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone."
Dev
The pregnancy journey for Rooh was a harrowing experience, one that tested not only her physical endurance but also the emotional fortitude of everyone around her, especially mine. Each day began with the gut-wrenching sounds of her morning sickness, more severe than anyone had anticipated. Her once vibrant complexion faded, replaced by a pallor that seemed to deepen with every bout of nausea. It was more than just morning sickness; it was an unrelenting assault on her body that left her exhausted and fragile. Watching her endure this was a torture of its own kind. Every retch and gag felt like a punch to my gut, as if her pain were my own. Her suffering became a constant reminder of the physical toll this pregnancy was taking on her.
As the pregnancy progressed, new challenges emerged. Rooh's blood pressure became a significant concern, often dropping dangerously low, leaving her weak and light-headed. I felt utterly helpless watching her struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Her back pain was another constant companion, gnawing at her with relentless persistence. The sight of her swollen legs, heavy and painful, brought a lump to my throat. Every step she took seemed to carry the weight of the world. My guilt was overwhelming; it felt as though I was responsible for every ounce of her suffering. I couldn't shake the irrational resentment I felt towards the babies, who, despite being innocent, were the source of her agony.
Rudhan, our little boy, was deeply affected by his mother's condition. Though too young to grasp the full extent of the situation, he sensed the gravity of it. His bright eyes, usually filled with mischief, were now clouded with confusion and fear. He would cling to Rooh's side, his small hand resting on her belly, perhaps trying to connect with the siblings he couldn't yet understand. His quiet, worried presence was a stark contrast to the joy we had hoped this pregnancy would bring. The sight of him trying to comfort Rooh, despite his own fear, broke my heart further.
In a desperate attempt to be of more help, I immersed myself in pregnancy books, trying to understand the myriad of changes Rooh was experiencing and how best to support her. I felt an immense pressure to be her rock, especially as I continued to juggle the responsibilities of our family business. Arjun was a godsend during this time, stepping up to handle many of the business duties so I could focus on Rooh. Our entire family rallied around us, offering their support in every way they could. Yet, despite the collective effort, a thick fog of anxiety lingered in our home. The doctor's warnings about the potential for serious complications were a constant, dark undercurrent in our lives.
Then came the seventh month, a period we had hoped would bring some respite but instead delivered the greatest trial of all. Rooh went into labor prematurely, a situation we were wholly unprepared for. The sight of her in pain, her face contorted with agony as she clutched her belly, was a moment of sheer terror. My heart pounded wildly, each beat echoing my fear and helplessness. We rushed her to the hospital, the urgency of the situation clear in the frantic pace at which we moved. The doctors quickly assessed the situation and delivered a grim diagnosis: one of the babies was in distress, with the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck. An emergency C-section was the only option.
As they prepared her for surgery, the medical staff handed me a consent form. My hands shook as I held the paper, my vision blurring with unshed tears. The form was cold and clinical, detailing the risks involved and absolving the hospital of liability should the worst occur. It was a brutal reality check, a stark reminder of the dangers we faced. Signing that form felt like signing away a piece of my soul. I could barely bring myself to look at Rooh, her pain-stricken face tearing at my heart. The thought of losing her, or the babies, or both, was too much to bear. Our family gathered in the waiting area, each person lost in their own grief and fear, tears streaming down their faces. The air was thick with an unspoken dread, the kind that chills you to the bone.

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Beyond Destiny ~ A Saga Of Timeless Love
Random"We shouldn't play with fire, Rooh," He spoke near my ears, pecking my jawline. I was breathing erratically unable to encompass my perturbation. "What if I want to play with it?" I said, my voice sensual, subduing my thudding heart. His hand went t...