Here After!

51. Breaking the News

Anu lay still in the quiet of the night, her mind restless even as exhaustion pulled at her body. Tomorrow, everything would change—again. Until now, the pregnancy had been something sacred, something just between her and Giri, nestled in the safety of their silence. But once they told her parents, it would no longer be just theirs.

She turned onto her side, staring at the soft glow of the night lamp. The weight of the past months sat heavy on her chest. She thought of the countless times she had avoided long conversations with her parents, dodging their calls with excuses of work, exhaustion, or just pretending she hadn't noticed the phone ringing. It wasn't just about hiding the pregnancy—it was about hiding the cracks in her marriage.

Her mother had sensed it even before Anu could admit it to herself. "Is everything alright between you two?" she had asked once, gently, cautiously. Anu had brushed it off, laughing it away, but she knew her mother wasn't convinced. It had been easier to distance herself than to risk more probing questions, to hear the concern laced in her mother's voice, to see the disappointment in her father's silence.

And when she saw her siblings with their children—laughing, playing, living the life she had longed for—it had only made things harder. Jealousy, an emotion she hated to admit, had crept into her heart, twisting into guilt every time she looked away from her nieces and nephews. She had deliberately kept her distance, avoiding family gatherings, making excuses, locking herself away in a bubble of longing and pain.

Just then, the door to their room opened, pulling her from her thoughts. Giri stepped in after his shower, rubbing his damp hair with a towel. His eyes found her immediately, and even in the dim light, he could see the weight of her thoughts.

"Come," he said softly. "Let's sit outside for a while. I'll get you some juice."

She opened her mouth to protest but stopped. Maybe she did need some air, something to break the cycle of thoughts spinning inside her head. So, she nodded.

Giri gestured for her to go ahead while he went to the kitchen. She stepped onto the balcony, the night breeze brushing against her skin, soothing in its own way. By the time he returned with a glass of fresh juice, she was leaning against the railing, staring into the quiet street below.

She took the glass from him, her fingers brushing against his. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, without being asked, without any prompting, Anu let the words spill out.

"I avoided her," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I avoided talking to Mom because I knew she would notice... she would know something was wrong between us. And I didn't have the energy to answer her questions."

Giri remained silent, listening.

"I hated feeling that way," she admitted, gripping the glass tightly. "I hated keeping my distance. But every time she started giving me advice—even when she knew I was not pregnant—I'd get so irritated. It felt like... like I was suffocating under all the expectations, under everything I couldn't have for so long."

She sighed. "And seeing my siblings with their kids... Giri, I couldn't stand it. I was happy for them, but it hurt so much."

She felt his hand settle over hers, steady and warm. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. He knew. He had always known.

They sat there for a while, letting the night wrap around them, before shifting the conversation to the next day.

"We'll blame work for why we've been distant," Giri suggested. "It's the safest excuse."

Anu nodded. "They'll still know something's different."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But at least it'll buy us time to let them process it in their own way."