His Forced Biwi • 18+ [Completed✓]

Epilogue

ABHISAR ── .✦

Four years later.

Four years had passed since everything wrong that could happen had already happened in our lives , and now, here I was—pacing outside the room where Nupur, my Nupur, was bringing our first child into the world.

My heart felt like it might burst out of my chest, each beat felt a little louder than the last.

I kept walking back and forth, my eyes darting towards the door every few seconds, waiting for any sign, any sound that would tell me everything was alright.

Inside the room, I could hear—Nupur’s voice, scream, our Bhabhi giving her reassurance, and the old dai-Maa guiding them both through the process.

I was a man in a storm of emotions, always—excitement, fear, impatience—all swirling together in my mind, and it was making it hard to breathe for me.

It was this year itself, when we had decided that we are ready to have a baby.

Or basically, she was chirping around my ears to have a baby ever since Rajveer— our nephew was born three years ago. The chirps increased even more when our niece— Vaidehi came along, one and half year ago.

She wanted to have a baby in urgency, because technically everyone in the village had started taunting her about kids and she couldn't face it more.

I was delaying, because I wanted her to be healthy for actually delivering a baby and experiencing that pain.

She turned twenty-two this year, and this age was good, as I confirmed with the town's doctors. I can't be careless regarding her, right?

And then we finally started working upon the baby. Finally.

The process was fun. We had sex almost everyday. Every night. The best part? She offered it herself. Sometimes, she surprised me with sudden blowjob in the mornings, or handjob, forcing me to fuck her hard and rough.

Then it got confirmed that she was pregnant and we were going to be parents.

I fucked her that night too, out of utmost happiness.

We did it a lot during her pregnancy, not because I wanted it, but because she used to crave it.

Good days.

I glanced over at Bhaiya—who stood a little ways from me, his one and half-year-old daughter, Vaidehi, held securely in his arms.

She was the spitting image of her mother, with big, curious eyes that seemed to take in everything around her. And right now, those eyes were fixated on her father, asking him a thousand innocent questions, which Bhaiya could rarely understand because she uses foreign language to talk to us.

“Paa...andal ta hola,” she asked, her tiny voice full of wonder. ("Papa, what's happening inside?")

I understood that one.

Abhigyan smiled, his calmness a stark contrast to my nerves.

“Your choti Maa is bringing a little baby into the world, bachha. Just like when you came.” He kissed the top of her head, shifting her weight in his arms.

Then, he looked over at me, his expression softening.

“Chinta mat karo, Abhisar. Sab kuch theek hoga.”

“Don’t worry, Abhisar. Everything will be fine.”

I nodded, swallowing hard, but I couldn’t stop the endless pacing. How could I? My wife was in pain inside.