ENIGMA

CONVERSATION

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed more easily, touching on heavier subjects like travel and hobbies.

Advik took a sip of his water, watching Ruhani carefully. His earlier sternness had left a mark, but he knew that building trust was just as important as establishing boundaries.

He decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Ruhani,” he began, his tone gentler, “I want to talk about our future, about what we both want out of this marriage.”

Ruhani looked up at him, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in her eyes. “Our future?”

“Yes,” Advik confirmed. “I know this engagement feels sudden, and I understand that you have your reservations. But it’s important for us to be on the same page about certain things. For instance, I want to have children—maybe not immediately, but eventually. It’s something I’ve always envisioned for my life.”

Ruhani’s heart skipped a beat. The thought of having children hadn’t crossed her mind in the whirlwind of everything else. “Babies?” she echoed, her voice a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

Advik nodded, his expression softening as he spoke. “Yes. I want to build a family with you. But I don’t want to rush you. I want us to reach that point when you feel ready, when you’re comfortable with the idea.”

Ruhani bit her lip, her mind racing. The idea of having children—of being a mother—felt overwhelming. She could barely wrap her head around the engagement, let alone the prospect of bringing a child into the world. “I… I don’t know if I want that,” she confessed quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Advik’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push her. Instead, he leaned in a little closer, his voice calm and patient. “Why don’t you want to have children? Is there something specific that worries you?”

Ruhani hesitated, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. She looked down at her hands, twisting them nervously in her lap. “It’s just… the thought of going through all that—pregnancy, childbirth—it scares me. I’ve heard so many stories about how painful it is. And I hate needles. I can’t even stand the thought of getting through that, let alone going through all the medical procedures that come with having a baby.”

Advik listened intently, his expression thoughtful. He could see the fear and anxiety in her eyes, and he understood that this wasn’t something she had considered lightly. “I see,” he said softly. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

Ruhani nodded, her voice trembling slightly as she continued. “I know it sounds silly, but I’ve always been afraid of pain. The idea of going through something so intense… I just don’t know if I can handle it.”

Advik reached across the table, gently taking her hand in his. “It doesn’t sound silly at all. It’s a very real fear, and I appreciate you being honest with me about it.”

She looked up at him, surprised by the understanding in his voice. “You’re not upset?”

Advik shook his head. “No, I’m not upset. I want us to be able to talk about these things openly. It’s important to me that we understand each other’s concerns and fears. If you’re not ready to have children, or if it’s something you’re genuinely afraid of, then we’ll take our time. We’ll discuss it further when you feel more comfortable.”

Ruhani felt a small wave of relief wash over her. She had expected him to be more forceful, more insistent. But instead, he was listening—really listening—to her concerns. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude.

Advik, noticing Ruhani’s hesitation, softened his tone slightly. “I understand your concerns. The thought of going through all that might seem overwhelming. But you have to remember, I’m a doctor. You won’t even need to visit a clinic for most things. I can handle vaccinations, tests, and anything else right here at home. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt much, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”