Armaan slowly sat up, rubbing his stiff neck and sore back. He had fallen asleep on the couch in his wife's hospital room, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the past few days. As he looked around, his gaze fell on his wife, Abhira, who was peacefully sleeping in her hospital bed.
Her beautiful face, usually radiant with a warm smile, now looked pale and tired. IV lines and monitoring cables snaked out from under the blankets, a harsh reminder of her fragile health. Armaan's heart ached as he thought about the mistakes he had made, the mistakes that had driven a wedge between them.
He longed to hold her close, to feel her warmth and comfort. But he knew she was still angry with him. The argument they had before still lingered, unresolved. His thoughtless words and actions had hurt her deeply, and he didn't know how to make it right.
As he looked at Abhira, Armaan felt a mix of emotions: guilt, regret, love, and desperation. He wanted to turn back time, to take back his mistakes, to be a better husband. But life didn't offer do-overs.
With a heavy sigh, Armaan stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the city below. He couldn't shake off the feeling of helplessness that had been weighing him down. How could he fix things between them? How could he regain her trust?
As the sun began to rise, casting a golden glow over the hospital room, Armaan made a silent vow to himself: he would do whatever it took to make things right with Abhira, to be the husband she deserved.
But for now, he could only stand there, watching her sleep, hoping that someday soon she would forgive him and take him back into her arms.
He came out of his thoughts with the door opening. He looked at the nurse that came in to remove the drip from his wife's hand.
Abhira moaned in pain in her sleep. She slowly tried to open her eyes but everything felt heavy. She blinked her eyes to clear out the blurriness from her view. Her stomach was cramping like hell.
Armaan saw her face scrunched in pain and came near her and said,
"Ira jaan, you okay. Is it paining somewhere?" Armaan asked.
"My stomach is cramping a lot." Abhira said.
"We are visiting the gynecologist in an hour. But for now I will call a doctor." Armaan said worriedly. Seeing her in pain was killing him.
Armaan sought out a doctor. Luckily he found one nearby. On the way back to their room, Armaan informed him about Abhira's condition. The doctor checked her, and said,
"Make her drink lots of water for now. I can't give her medications without knowing the exact cause. And take her to do her sonography first. I will inform the doctor that will handle her pregnancy case to be present there."
Armaan nodded. The doctor left. Armaan asked her to get up slowly and passed her the bottle of water.
Abhira started sipping water slowly.
She took a deep breath, and she could feel her cramps reducing a little bit.
Both Armaan and Abhira didn't talk much. The silence was too heavy. The distance between was too much. No matter how much Armaan craved to take Abhira in his arms, the past stood between them like an invisible wall, something you couldn't see, but it's presence is felt.
--------------------------------
Armaan and Abhira sat in the hospital's waiting area, their faces etched with worry and apprehension. The fluorescent lights above seemed to hum in tandem with their racing hearts. Every tick of the clock felt like an eternity.
Abhira's hands trembled as she clutched the sheaf of medical reports, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar terms and cryptic notations. Armaan's arm wrapped around her shoulders, offering a fragile sense of comfort.
