9.00 pm

Sitting in front of the bedroom mirror, I glance at myself once again. I've taken the effort to wash and blow dry my hair, liberally moisturize my skin, dust my skin with foundation, apply a thin layer of eyeliner and kohl, and some lip gloss. I'm smelling of green apples, Rohit's favorite fragrance.

I've also chosen a fairly good-looking nightdress, a deep blue A-line chemise with pink flowers imprinted on it. I stand up to take in my entire look. I'm nervous. Suddenly I feel all of this is a bad idea. I rush to the cupboard and grab my regular flannel pajamas. Before I have the opportunity to change, Rohit enters through the main door.

Barely two months had passed since my mother left for the heavenly abode. I was still coming to terms with the void her departure created in my life. We all knew it was coming. And yet, when it did, it came as a shock. But I was also a silent brooder, my mother was my only constant companion. I didn't know how to express my loneliness. At times I lashed out at Rohit. At other times, I clung on to his shoulder and cried. It was all very weird. And then one day, I felt dizzy on the sets. Some air, water, a short nap later I completed my shot and made my way home. Two more consecutive days of the same dizziness, the hot flashes, water, air, and a short nap. The crew got concerned. I casually mentioned it to Rohit and he suggested a blood test to eliminate the usual suspects. The results of the blood test surprised us both. I was pregnant.

I'm caught like a deer between the headlights. I'm about to mumble something incoherent when I notice Rohit checking me out discreetly. His faint smile giving me an inkling as to the direction his thoughts are wandering towards. I wait for him to look up and look straight back into his eye. His eyebrows raise in an appreciative gesture. I draw in a sharp breath. I don't remember the last time he looked at me like that.

It had been three days since I'd found out I was pregnant. I should've been happy. I should've been ecstatic. I was neither. I was instead, angry and petrified. Angry that we'd been careless enough to allow this to happen and petrified because I didn't know what this meant for my future. Not the future of Mrs. Sonakshi Sippy; the future of Parvati.

When I'd mustered enough courage and casually mentioned to Rohit about the no-pregnancy clause in my television contract, he'd told me to break the contract. "We'll pay the damages," he'd said as a matter of fact. That only added fuel to the already burning fire.

"Seriously, Rohit, are you listening to yourself?" I'd screamed on top of my lungs. "You think money is the answer to everything?" I picked up the cushions from the couch and threw them on the floor. Then I proceeded to stamp one out with my feet. The mere action exhausted me. I sat down on the couch, to catch my breath. Rohit went up to the kitchen and brought me back a glass of water. "Drink," he ordered. I shook my head. He thrust the glass under my nose. I turned my head the other way. "Drink," he ordered once more, this time a little louder. I paused. Rohit had never spoken to me in that authoritarian manner. I took the glass of water from his hands and dared to look up at him. He'd looked back at me, then, and for the first time and I saw a glimpse of his nerves of steel. I could sense his resolution. He would do whatever it took to protect that child.

Rohit places his bag on the accent cabinet and begins taking off his shoes, all the while without breaking his eye contact with me. My breath begins to hitch. First, the shoes come off, then the socks. Then he casually takes his coat off and places it on top of his bag, on the accent cabinet. My breath is turning short and erratic. The room suddenly seems small. He walks towards me slowly, unbuttoning his shirt with his right hand, one button at a time. I'm feeling hot. Am I running a temperature? I try to focus on his left hand, which's dangling by his body to take my mind away from the sensations he's making me feel. I lose miserably. By the time he reaches me, he's completely unbuttoned his shirt. I'm hyperventilating, I know I'm going to faint. I stare at his perfectly sculpted abs that contour the inner shirt. I close my eyes in part frustration and part confusion, unable to process the emotions raging within me.

It had been almost two months since I'd discovered I was pregnant. It had also been almost two months since my relationship with Rohit turned hostile. No there wasn't any physical hostility, no exchange of words. But the warning couldn't have been more clear if he'd said it out loud. He was unhappy with my decision to continue working and not inform the production team about my pregnancy.

I'd argued that the more I delayed telling them about it, the lesser the penalty would be. He'd scoffed at my naivete. I'd rolled my eyes and accused him of being a chauvinist. I'd told him that many women worked when they were pregnant. He'd argued, none of them had to do stunts. I'd shot back, since when did a family drama have stunts? It was his turn to roll his eyes. KPK was no family drama.

Two months later, the writers came up with a chase scene, where Parvati rides a horse to save Kunal from getting beaten up by the goons. That was when I should have told my Production House something, anything to have the script changed. The horse was highly strung. When I tried to get on it, it got agitated and threw me off. By the time the crew rushed me to the nearest hospital, I'd lost my child.

"Sona," he whispers into my ears. I hmmm. I'm unwilling to open my eyes. If this is a dream, it's the sweetest one I've had in a very long while.

"Open your eyes Sona," he cajoles.

I reluctantly open my eyes and find a pair of black eyes staring right back at me with all the love in the world.

I'm overwhelmed with emotions that I'm unable to classify. And so I do what women in these situations do best. I cry.

I can see Rohit's suddenly confused. He sits on the couch and brings me to sit on his lap. I sit there quietly resting my head on his shoulder, sobbing.

"What happened Sona?" His voice is gentle. His fingers weaving through my hair, soothing my being.

"I..I...I'm sorry, Ro..Roh..Rohit. So..rry.. for everything... eve..ry...thing... I.. mean... every....thing."

"Shhhh... I know. You don't have to keep saying sorry."

"But... I...do..., I.... do...."

He places me on the couch and makes his way to the kitchen. Before I have a chance to wipe my tears, he's back with a glass of water. I gratefully take the glass from his hand and gulp some of it. It soothes my nerves. I wipe my tears, run my hand through my hair and take a deep breath to calm down as much as I can. I have to say this. Now. 

"Rohit," I begin tentatively, as he takes his place beside me on the couch and places his hand over my shoulder, "I've done some unforgivable things. It's because of me and me alone that our child is not in this world."

He sobers up at that but continues to thread his fingers through my hair.

"There's no point in discussing the past Sona. We can't change what's already happened. But there's always hope for the future. If you really want a child..."

I sit up straight and look into his eyes. There is a glint of mischief and desire? I suddenly feel like a burst of sunshine after a long and rainy day.

"I love you," I say before placing my lips on his. He responds by deepening the kiss.

*****

11.45 pm

I turn to see Rohit sleeping beside me. I clutch the duvet to my being as I move closer to him. He looks peaceful. I feel happy. I edge closer and thread my free hand through his hair. He doesn't budge. He's sleeping soundly.

Dinner is laying forgotten on the table, uneaten. I momentarily think about clearing up the table and the kitchen, but then lay back on the bed. The clearing up can wait until tomorrow morning. Right now I want to bask in the glory of our love-making.

That's what I'm going to call it. Because that's how pure it felt. At that one moment, it was as if the two of us had decided to let go of everything from the past - the bad and the good and start all over again. It felt as if our souls missed each other's companionships; as if the universe was edging us closer and closer towards a new beginning filled with hope and laughter.

As we lay down next to each other sated, Rohit turned towards me, kissed me on my forehead, and said: "I love you."

Those three words, said at that moment, meant more than anything else in the world to me.

I'm feeling quite emotional right now. To be honest, I've been an emotional mess ever since Rohit got back home tonight. I move back to my side of the bed to put some much-needed space between the two of us. I'm extremely grateful for his faith and trust, but at the same time, I'm also extremely scared. I don't want to let him down, again. I couldn't live with that.

My mother's voice rings in my head loud and clear. All things break. And all things can be mended. Not with time as they say, but with intention.