Bade Sapne

Christmas Special #1

A/N: This is set after this story takes place.
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Vira's POV

The 25th of December. Christmas Day. I was seated on the couch, watching the fan turn endlessly above my head. The small squeak each time it passed a certain point was the only noise in the house, besides my breathing, of course.

My hand trailed to my stomach, rubbing it lightly, as I felt a gentle kick. I smiled to myself, remembering the smiles and tears we'd had on our faces when we'd found out I was pregnant. Shubman had lifted me onto the counter, whispering 'I love you's in my ear, and we'd stayed in each other's embrace for an hour straight.

He'd left school in 10th grade already, so his knowledge of science was sufficient, but still left wonder in his mind, awe, and astonishment that we'd been able to create a life. For me, who'd taken science till 12th, it didn't really surprise me. I was happy, of course, but not surprised or astonished.

I felt a draft of cool air from the window, and I was tempted to run to the window and put my face next to it, but I was both lazy and tired. It was too much effort to get up with this big of a weight on my mid-section.  I'd dropped the remote on the carpet, and no matter how much I had stretched to reach it, I just wasn't able to pick it up, so I'd given up after a while.

Today was not a good day.

The whole day had gone by horribly slowly, and I just wanted it to be over. Children all over the world were getting gifts from Santa, but here I was, melting in the heat, begging for a draft of wind. I also wanted a glass of water, but, yet again, the baby bump wouldn't exactly let me get up.

I slumped back on the couch, annoyed at life. 7:49. Shubman still wasn't home yet. He was likely in a press conference or in the dressing room, replicating one of his favourite shots from the match, or receiving their fielder of the match award.

I leant down (with an immense struggle) to grab my phone from the other side of the sofa.

"Ouch!" I winced, as pain shot through my back.

Urgh. The back pain had been going on for a few weeks now, and according to all the doctors we'd seen, it wasn't really a big deal, and happened to everyone. But usually, I had Shubman to rub my back to make me feel better, but today...

He'd told me specifically that he'd be home early and not go to any press conferences or interviews since I had an appointment today, and we were planning to go together. Now, hadn't that aged well? It was two hours past the time he'd told me he'd be here, and I was all ready and dressed to go out in uncomfortable, itchy clothes, and he was late, and taking his sweet, sweet time, doing god knows what.

I could almost imagine him, in his blue cricket jersey, a large 77 printed on his back, looking ridiculously handsome, as he focused on the incoming ball. I felt my anger subsiding, as thoughts of him looking sexy as always in his element, flashing his adorable dimpled smile. Oh gosh, just thinking about it was making me melt.

I unlocked my phone, opening my WhatsApp, repeatedly turning my WiFi on and off, but alas. Nothing from my "loving" husband. Not a single message, not a call, not even a voice note. I sighed, upset that my husband had practically forgotten about my existence.

A notification pinged on my phone, and I opened it without checking what it was. The Instagram logo popped up, and my inbox was flooded with messages. What on earth?

I opened one I'd been tagged in. It was a reel, with pictures of Shubman and some interview lady. They were standing pretty close, but I knew Shubman wouldn't be doing anything he shouldn't. I trusted him, with all my life. But as the reel went on, a picture of them posing for a photo came up, and she had her arm around his waist, while his was over her shoulder.