Forever His

Chapter 95: Maryam

Mahnoor's POV:

I'm standing in the nursery, my hands running along the edge of the soft white crib, gently brushing over the stuffed animals arranged inside. The room smells faintly of lavender and baby powder, and the walls are painted a soft peach, sunlight spilling in through the windows like it's blessing the space. I smile as I imagine holding her in my arms, singing to her, rocking her to sleep in the chair by the corner.

Then it happens.

A sharp, twisting pain surges through my chest and coils down to my stomach. My hand immediately flies to my bump as I double over slightly, letting out a sharp breath.

"Shahmeer!" I call out, my voice trembling.

He's upstairs in a heartbeat, Kiran right behind him. His eyes are wild, panicked. "What? What's wrong?! Mahnoor—"

"I think—" I wince again, my breath catching, "—I think it's time."

Kiran claps her hands together, half in excitement, half in disbelief. "It's happening!"

But Shahmeer looks like he's about to pass out. He's pacing, muttering something about hospitals and water bottles and where he put the car keys. I can't help but laugh, even through the pain.

"Shahmeer," I say gently, reaching for his hand, "Breathe. It's okay. We're okay. Just grab the hospital bag, please."

He stares at me like I've lost my mind. "You're in labour and you're calming me down?"

Kiran giggles as she helps me into my slippers. "Classic Mahnoor."

Within minutes, we're in the car, speeding toward the hospital. Every bump on the road feels ten times sharper, but I grit my teeth and focus on my breathing. Shahmeer holds my hand from the driver's seat every time we stop. He doesn't let go.

Farjaad, Ayesha, and little Sameer arrive shortly after us, all waiting outside the delivery room. It's just me and Shahmeer inside now. This is it.

Natural labour. No shortcuts. No easy way out. Just raw, relentless pain.

"Push, Mahnoor! One more big push!"

I cry out, squeezing Shahmeer's hand like it's my lifeline. He winces but doesn't pull away. His other hand is brushing my hair back, whispering soft, broken words into my ear.

"You've got this, jaan. You're doing so well. She's almost here."

Nine hours feel like a lifetime. Sweat drips down my temples. I can barely keep my eyes open.

And then—

I hear it.
A cry.

Not mine. Hers.

The sound slices through the chaos like a beam of light. They place her on my chest, slick and warm, her cries strong and real. I look down at her — at the little life we made — and everything else falls away.

She's beautiful. Tiny. Perfect. Her face is round, lips pink and pouting, eyes still squinting against the newness of the world.

"She looks like you," Shahmeer says, his voice choked with emotion. "But those eyes... those are mine."

I laugh and cry at the same time, cupping her fragile head. "Hi, baby," I whisper to her, my heart swelling in a way I didn't think was possible. "Welcome to the world."

He presses a kiss to my forehead and rests his head gently against mine, the three of us huddled together in a moment I know I'll never forget.

"I want to name her Maryam," I say softly, tears falling freely now. "After my mom."