When Shubham woke up that morning and glimpsed to his side, he was flabbergasted, for the peaceful demeanor with which Piyali continued to sleep—breathing evenly, her eyelids fluttering ever so lightly, a small smile gracing her lips—had him amazed. He had never seen her that calm in the couple of months that they had been staying in the same room. Perhaps for the first time in weeks, her heart was not restive anymore.

Chuckling at the thought, he slowly slid down from the bed, ensuring not to create a single sound lest he disturb her. He had seen her up till late at night, perusing a book on pregnancy and motherhood. Although she was not a fan of reading books, there was not a single tome left in the stores of the Bay Area on pregnancy that his wife hadn't bought and read.

Moving to her side, he left a kiss on her forehead, pondering over how life had changed drastically. She was never the person with whom he desired to spend his entire life, but now that destiny had played its part, there was no one else he would rather be with in this upcoming journey of parenthood. Now, he was still conflicted about his feelings for his wife, but he knew the mother of his child deserved the utmost respect and attention. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to love again after everything he had gone through, but his wife would receive all the loyalty, all the support, all the appreciation, and reverence from him.

Pecking her lips once, he ambled towards the restroom to freshen up. He had a long day at work and an even longer night as he had a business party to attend. He wasn't sure if he wished to take Piyali with him, for she was nearing her delivery date and had already been on maternity leave from work for a couple of weeks now, but then she had insisted on attending the party as his wife. He did sense an undercurrent of angst and even jealousy on letting him go all by himself at a location where runway models would be performing, but he could only snigger at that. He had never chased beauty all his life, and now when he was blessed with the prettiest woman Mother Earth could sculpt, he would only be a fool to let his mind waver, for his wife was beautiful inside out.

***

Piyali watched her reflection in the mirror with a pout on her lips. Twirling at her spot, checking herself from every angle possible, she furrowed her brows and allowed a whimper to escape her throat. With the off-shoulder black gown boasting shimmering little stones stitched along the length of the outfit, positioned at equally spaced intervals, the attire appeared every bit ethereal. Her hair tied in a loose bun, her eyes possessing a smoldering smokey look with the kohl and the eye shadow blending perfectly over her eyelids, the loose locks framing her radiant face, and the red color of her lips enhancing the fairness of her skin, she looked mesmerizing. At least to her husband who was standing by the door of the room, fiddling with the cufflinks of his suit, his gaze fixated on the slightest of movements she was coming up with.

She saw him behind her and frowned. "I can't go to the party with you."

He tore his eyes away from her, peering at his shining shoes instead. "Why so?"

"I don't look nice, Shubham." She peeked at her reflection once again with her palms on her belly. "I look so fat, and... and the stylist told me I would look good in this, but... but I look like a stuffed puri."

He chuckled and went ahead to curl his arms around her waist as she leaned her back on his chest. Placing his chin on her shoulders, inhaling the sweet fragrance of peaches she adorned, he said, "You look just perfect, wife. Have you noticed the glow on your face? It's breathtaking. And did you see how pretty our baby is looking in this black gown? I bet she will take after her mother. Enticing, enthralling, enchanting."

A smile graced her lips at his compliments. "And how does Mr. Dad know it's a daughter?"

"I am her Dad. I know. It's a daughter." He placed a palm over her tummy. "My daughter."

"You are too excited to meet her, aren't you?" she murmured, caressing his palms.

"I am, Mrs. Mom. Too damn excited."

She turned towards him and pecked his lips. "Thanks for... for everything, Shubham. This was... this baby was so unexpected in our lives. Yet you... you shouldered every responsibility and didn't even let me feel the heat of it. You convinced our parents for this wedding despite their disappointment and disapproval." She scoffed. "I am two years older than you, and—"

"Shhh!" He skimmed his fingers over her crimson lips. "It's a matter of the past. We have an amazing future to look forward to, okay?"

She nodded her head but ended up giggling. "Take me to your party, Mr. Agarwal."

***

One wild party it was indeed. A success bash thrown after the product launch of an app that promised to deliver exclusive Indian goods sourced from all over the States was bound to be a phenomenon worthy of media coverage. Shubham Agarwal had been an active investor in the venture, for he had foreseen the popularity the app could potentially garner. True to his intuitions and the amazement of the other skeptical investors, there were a hundred thousand downloads within the span of a few months.

With mellow illumination lighting up the courtyard of a five-star hotel, balloons strewn across the floor, EDM playing in the background, folks mingling with glasses of cocktails in their hands, scantily-clothed but highly attractive women serving the guests, and the scores of people chattering away, the party was indeed going to be the talk of the town. The food was scrumptious and so were the decadent drinks served at the bar. The frolics of the bartenders were also a must-watch, and Piyali was most certainly enjoying the few last days before responsibility would come knocking at her door.

Sipping the fruity drink in her hand, she beamed when one of Shubham's associates told her she was glowing. She was glad she had chosen to accompany her dear husband to the party, and it was her first time too. So far, she was unaware of what went in those success bashes he frequently kept attending, but now that she knew, Shubham was sure to receive a good smacking from his wife. Despite the heated glare sent his way, he was chatting with his acquaintance on the other end of the dance floor, swaying to the tunes with his palms on the woman's waist while she was repeatedly touching his arms and shoulders. And though Piyali tried her level best not to be jealous or insecure, she indeed felt those two emotions with an intensity stronger than before.

Abandoning the conversation with the group midway, pouting her lips, she carefully trod to the spot where Shubham was still dancing with the woman with his back turned towards his wife. Her nose flared when he didn't seem to notice someone standing behind him and glowering at him. So, she huffed and placed her palm on his shoulder.

He stiffened at the familiar touch and a smile crept up his lips. Glimpsing at his dance partner, he said, "Sorry, Ava. My wife is here, and I owe her a dance."

Piyali was startled at the smoothness with which he dismissed Ava and the enthusiasm with which the lady smiled at the married couple and disappeared from view. When Shubham swerved towards his wife and pulled her closer by her waist, ensuring not to smother the pregnant woman, she finally found her voice. "How did you know?"

He furrowed his brows and gently twirled her around. "Know what?"

Her palms landed on his chest, and she looked up at him through moistened eyes. "That it's me?"

He shrugged. "I could tell it was you."

She gulped and beamed at him, yearning to tell him how much she loved the man who was the father of her child, with whom she would willingly go to the ends of the Earth, to whom she had surrendered herself completely. She had even opened her mouth to let the words flow lucidly, let the sweet cadence take over as she would confess her feelings for her husband, but then he was called over by his associates, and she let him go. They had all the time in the world to make things right, and she would set everything right before the arrival of the baby.

***

The party ended late, and the drive back home was carried in tranquil silence. He assisted her in getting out of the car, and they discussed the bash they had attended. Joviality and light-heartedness ran amuck as their conversations held a certain charm of their own—ones full of quips, teasings, and mollifications after silly arguments. Exactly like a happy, healthy couple should be. However, much to her chagrin, by the time she freshened up and came out of the washroom, he was already fast asleep, breathing evenly and the lights on his side of the bed turned off.

A scowl developed on her features, and her palms rested on her tummy. "Look at him, Baby! Here we are! Dying to talk to him! But your Dad has no sense of responsibility whatsoever, does he? Sleeping as if he has no wife or baby to take care of."

Twisting her lips, she plopped herself on the bed after discarding the wet towel in the laundry basket. The maternity clothes she had recently purchased were too comforting for her, and she sighed in relief after getting out of the black gown she had adorned that evening. Resting her spine on the headrest of the bed, she let her orbs flicker towards him, lying in a supine position with a pout on his lips. A giggle escaped her throat as she traced his stubble with her fingers. So perfect, so pure, so breathtaking!

Taking a deep breath, she let her fingers sift through his hair while her other hand went towards the book on the nightstand that she had been reading. Sleep eluded her for a variety of reasons, the primary being her inability to speak to her husband till the wee hours of the morning, but she was also experiencing slight discomfort in her lower back. The doctor had told her these occasional spasms of pain were normal, and hence she chose not to trouble him with it, but at the same time, half her heart yearned to wake him up and chatter away.

However, she found herself engrossed in the book at hand, speaking about the nuances of raising a kid once it becomes a toddler, and she didn't notice when the clock struck three. Once the chapter ended, she put the tome aside and glimpsed at him again. Neither had he woken up even once, nor had he changed his sleeping posture by even an inch. Irked she was as he refused to pay attention to her, she couldn't control herself anymore and shoved at his shoulders.

"Shubham! Shubham!" She raised her voice when he didn't budge. "Shubham! Get up!"

His eyelids fluttered until her voice sank into his brain, and he woke up with a start. Springing upright, blinking furiously to get rid of the somnolent state he was in, he breathed raggedly. "Are you okay? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?"

Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "I want ice cream."

He blinked a couple more times, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles as a yawn slipped past his mouth. "Oh." He grunted. "Ice cream." Grimacing, he said, "At this hour? You finished an entire tub this morning."

She flashed her eyes at him. "I want ice cream, Shubham."

He licked his lips and positioned his hands on his hips. "We are out of ice cream, Piyali, because you consumed all of it."

She huffed. "If we are out, you get it. Why are you reminding me of the extreme number of calories I have consumed?"

He gaped at her in disbelief. "You want to get ice cream now?" He glimpsed at the wall clock above the bed. "It's 3 am."

She shrugged. "So?"

"It's... very... late," he said, pronouncing each word clearly.

She scowled at him. "Didn't you promise to be a good husband to me and a good father to our baby? Or were you only talk and no actions?"

Rubbing his palms over his face, he groaned. "Fine. I will get it for you."

A grin erupted on her features. "Yay!" she chirped, getting down from the bed. "Let's get ice cream."

***

The emotional blackmail had worked just fine, and despite the lateness of the hour, he had found himself grabbing the car's keys, helping his wife sit inside the vehicle, driving out of the parking lot and towards the nearest 24x7 convenience store. The one next to the local gas station was sadly out of stock, and he had to hit the highway to go to the grocery store. Hence, it didn't come as a surprise that he yawned quite audibly, and his face contorted due to the same.

Sitting next to him as he drove it at a snail's pace, she glowered at him. "Look alive, husband. Drive carefully."

He grimaced. "It's the dead of the night, wife. People sleep at this hour."

She scowled at him. "Turn the car around, and let's go home," she snapped. "I don't want ice cream anymore."

"You and your freaking mood swings," he screamed, banging his fists on the steering wheel. "Can't you decide once and for all?"

"Oh!" A sarcastic laugh escaped her throat. "I am sorry for being such an inconvenience to you, Mr. Agarwal. I am extremely sorry for behaving in such a rash manner, given I am carrying a child in my womb. I should keep my temper in check because this situation I am in is entirely because you didn't know how to put on a condom. So, it should be me keeping my mood swings in check and making decisions once and for all."

His lips parted in disbelief at the way she mimed him towards the end. They had halted at a traffic signal, and thanks to the headlights of the cars in front of them, he was able to see the pout on her lips, the way she huffed and crossed her arms in front of her, and the manner in which she oh so adorably rolled her eyes. Clearing his throat, he said, "Thanks for giving me the best gift of life, and I am glad I didn't wear a condom that day. Thanks for carrying my child, and because you are tolerating so much for me, I am ready to tolerate all your tantrums too."

She gasped. "Tolerate?" she shouted. "Now you are tolerating me?"

"No." He frowned. "I me-mean I—"

"Tolerate?" She flailed her arms. "My dear husband is tolerating me within a few months of the wedding. That's just perfect. I can very well see how healthy this marriage is going to be six years from now. You will be sick and tired of tolerating me, and you will seek divorce from me, won't you? But let me tell you, Mr. Agarwal," she pointed a finger at him, "I am not going to leave you at any cost, and I am surely not giving you the custody of our baby."

He scrunched his nose and took his feet off the brake once the traffic signal turned green. Comprehending it well that a pregnant woman was not to be messed with, for she always had weird conclusions to draw from a minor argument, he took a deep breath when peeping out of the windshield.

She looked out too and discerned the well-lit edifice of the superstore and the massive parking lot in front of the entrance. A grin came up on her face, and she clapped her hands in exuberance. "Ice cream!"

He had only killed the engine when she flung her side of the door open and hurriedly crawled out of it, earning a groan from him as he sped out too and went to her, grasping her hand with his. "And why are you always in a hurry?" He stared at her in askance. "You don't take care of yourself one bit, Piyali. I am getting mad now."

She batted her lashes at him and rounded her shoulders. "Ice cream!"

***

He had a firm clasp over her wrists as they sauntered inside the store, exploring the dessert aisle. She was getting cranky as her favorite flavor was nowhere to be seen, and she was grumbling about his lack of sense, for he had brought her to a worthless, pointless store. But then her spirits soared when he spotted a tub of Pistachio Almond on the topmost rack of the corner-most freezer, and she chirruped away because he bought it for her with his own hard-earned money, proving time and again that he was the best husband a girl could ask for.

He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy these strange quirks of her. Well, they still argued over the alignment of forks in the kitchen, but he loved every moment of living with the gorgeous woman who had her arms looped around his as they ambled out of the store. She didn't even wait for them to reach their vehicle as she had already cracked the lid open and was scooping spoonfuls of the dessert with the plastic serving spoon they had bought along with the tub.

He chuckled when he saw the way she was continually stuffing ice cream into her mouth and the corners of her lips had the liquid milk dripping. "Seems like you are happy now."

She tittered, beaming. "I am the happiest, and I am the luckiest."

His brows quirked up. "Luckiest, huh?"

She nodded and placed her head on his shoulders. "Let's click a picture of this moment. A perfect family moment. You, I, and our little one."

He hummed, taking his phone out of his sweatpants's pocket and handing it over to her. "First wipe your mouth."

She jutted her chin out. "You do it for me while I set up the camera."

He sniggered. "Okay, ma'am!"

As he was busy cleaning the corners of her mouth, she tried opening the camera app by swiping left on the screen of his iPhone, but as her clumsy fingers would do it, the phone began asking for a passcode. Clicking her tongue, she said, "What's the code?"

He licked his fingers clean. "Uh..." He blinked a few times as he was drawing a blank, but then words tumbled out of his mouth. "Nandini's birthday. So... yeah! 0106."

The sharp intake of her breath alerted him, and he peered at her only to find her lips drooping, her eyes moistening, and the tub of ice cream slipping out of her hands. She took a step backward and swatted his fingers away when he tried to hold her hand.

"Piyali," he licked his lips, cautiously advancing towards her, "now don't form baseless assumptions over a fucking passcode."

Her lips parted, and her nose flared in a rage as the ice cream splattered all over the ground. Tears oozed out of her eyes, and she had much difficulty breathing or thinking straight. It took her immense energy to articulate, but it came out as a croaky, raspy whisper. "You still love her, don't you?"

***