Leaning against the stool, Pashmina sighed, her eyes fixed on the blank expanse of the wall before her. The pencil between her fingers wiggled idly as if mirroring the restless energy within her. She leaned forward again, pulling her lower lip between her teeth in concentration.

With a bold stroke, the pencil met the wall, and the outline of a massive whale began to take shape. Its graceful curves and sweeping lines seemed to breathe life into the once-bare surface. As the whale's form grew, so did the tide of creativity rushing through her mind, spilling out through her fingertips in intricate details and flowing motion.

She added more drawings, her pencil gliding easily across the wall. Cute, playful animals appeared one by one—a cuddly bear, a cheeky monkey, and a tiny elephant splashing water. Next came a group of smiling stars and fluffy clouds floating above them. Each figure felt full of charm, creating a warm, welcoming scene. 

As she worked, little stories began to form in her mind—a baby lion playing hide-and-seek with a bunny, a curious fox peeking out from behind a tree, and a family of penguins waddling together under a glowing moon. Every detail she added made the nursery feel more magical. 

When she finally leaned back, her pencil resting at her side, a soft smile spread across her face. The nursery wall was no longer plain—it was now a cozy, whimsical world, perfect for a baby boy to dream and grow.

Quickly walking down the steps, she grabbed her paint supplies and hurried back to her masterpiece. The whale she had drawn first took on a life of its own as she added soft blues and whites, making it look like it was gliding through the sea. 

She worked her way across the wall, bringing each figure to life with vibrant colors—the bear turned a warm brown, the monkey a playful golden hue, and the elephant a gentle gray with pink cheeks. The stars and clouds above were painted in soft yellows and whites, adding a dreamy touch to the scene. 

As she continued to paint, lost in the swirl of colors and creativity, a voice came from behind, accompanied by a dramatic sigh.

"My huge room, with my taste and all my favorite art, is now going to be designed for a baby. I kinda don’t approve of it, you know," Shubman said, crossing his arms and pouting like a child himself.

Pashmina turned towards Shubman, giving him a stern look, but there was a hint of love in her eyes. She had just spent a week at her own home, taking a brief break to gather herself, but she couldn’t stay away for long. Being away from him was harder than she’d expected, and now, she was back in his house, focused on preparing for the arrival of Aryaman.

"I don’t prefer to keep Aryaman in another room," she said softly, her voice filled with a quiet conviction. "He’s so small, and I want him to be with me, even when we sleep."

Shubman nodded, turning around to place the cradle in the room he had just bought. The wooden frame was sturdy, its soft color a perfect addition to the nursery. He paused for a moment, adjusting it in the corner as he quietly took in the space. 

Pashmina, leaving her paint on the step, walked down and noticed his sudden quietness. She approached him gently, concern creeping into her voice. "What’s wrong?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for any sign of doubt or unease. 

Shubman hesitated, looking at the cradle for a moment before meeting her gaze. "Nothing," he said softly, but there was a distant look in his eyes. "Just... this feels real now. Like, really real." 

Pashmina stepped closer, her arms wrapping around his tall frame in a comforting hug. "Is there something else bothering you? Speak out, love," she asked, her voice soft and gentle, holding a warmth that only she could offer.

Licking his lips, he gazed at the dark sky, trying to find the courage to speak. He bit his tongue, debating whether or not he should say what was bubbling inside him. The feeling was there, strong and urgent, but he wasn’t sure if now was the right time to voice it.

"I've been thinking the whole time you were away," he began, his tongue touching the roof of his mouth as if trying to find the right words. "I might have accepted the responsibility, but when I think of the past—and everything, the love for the baby—it's hard to develop that connection."

He paused briefly, taking deep breaths as Pashmina tightened her hold on him, silently urging him to continue. "At first, I wasn’t ready," he said, his voice low and hesitant. "Then I got excited about starting a family with you. But now, when I think about my past with Avantika, developing love for the baby... it seems hard."

Wiping away a lonely tear with his index finger, he shuddered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just don’t want to hurt Aryaman because of my feelings. He doesn’t deserve a father who is emotionally unavailable."

Pashmina looked at him with deep understanding, her eyes softening. She stepped forward and gently took his hand, squeezing it as she spoke. "Shubman," she began, her voice firm yet gentle, "I hear you, and I know it’s not easy. But feeling emotionally unavailable right now doesn’t define you. It’s just where you are at this moment. You’re not stuck there. Becoming the father you want to be takes time, patience, and a lot of learning. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about showing up, even when it’s tough. You don’t have to have everything figured out today. Just take it one step at a time, and little by little, you’ll find your way. And I’ll be right here, beside you, through all of it."

Shubman nodded slowly, his lips trembling as he bit them, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. His eyes were red and teary, and before he could stop himself, tears began to fall, tracing the lines of his face. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead gently against Pashmina’s, the weight of his emotions too much to bear in silence.

"I’m so scared, Pashmina," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I don’t want to mess this up... for Aryaman, for us. I don’t even know if I’m capable of being the father he deserves."

Pashmina wrapped her arms around him, her warmth a comfort as she held him close. She let him cry, knowing that sometimes, the best thing she could do was simply be there, offering him the space to feel and heal.

Shubman's sobs intensified as his thoughts crushed him. He buried his face in Pashmina’s shoulder, his body trembling with each shaky breath. The memories of Avantika flooded his mind—how everything had fallen apart, the pain of that ending, and the uncertainty that lingered in his heart. The feeling of failure still stung, and it felt like a heavy burden he couldn’t shake.

Pashmina tightened her grip on him, her fingers gently running through his hair, offering him a quiet, steady presence. She knew this was more than just about becoming a father—it was the pain of unresolved past hurt, the fear that it might spill over into his future.

"Let it out," she whispered softly, her voice soothing as she pressed her lips to his hair.

Tired and worn, Shubman took long, shaky breaths, each inhale and exhale feeling like a struggle against the heaviness in his chest. His tears had long soaked into Pashmina’s kurti, but she didn’t pull away.

Shubman slowly pulled back, his face a mess of tears and emotion, his hair disheveled from the tension of the moment. His eyes were red and swollen, his breath still shaky, but he looked at Pashmina with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to fall apart like this."

Pashmina gently cupped his face in her hands, wiping away the remnants of his tears with her thumbs. "You don’t need to apologize," she said softly. "You’re only human, Shubman. It’s okay to break down sometimes. You don’t have to be strong all the time, especially not with me."

Her words were a balm to his weary soul, and for a moment, he let himself be still, leaning into the calm she offered. Despite the mess he felt inside, Pashmina’s love was a constant, something he could hold onto as he navigated the path ahead.

Shubman smiled faintly, trying to lift the mood. He looked into Pashmina's eyes, his expression softening as he reached up to gently cup her face. Wanting to create a more positive space between them, he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips, a quiet gesture of love and reassurance.

The kiss wasn’t about words; it was a simple way to remind them both that no matter how tough things got, they still had each other.

Pashmina clung to his collar, standing on her tiptoes, trying to pour all her love and comfort into the kiss, hoping it would take away even a fraction of his pain. But the strain of holding herself up on her toes started to take its toll, and she groaned softly in discomfort.

Shubman immediately noticed, his instincts kicking in. Without hesitation, he gently picked her up, lifting her small figure effortlessly into his arms, holding her close. His lips never left hers, continuing to move with quiet urgency, as if trying to reassure her that she was his anchor, just as much as he was hers.

As Shubman held her close, one hand gently smoothing her hair, he looked down at Pashmina with a tenderness in his eyes. Her small form was still partly in his arms, her body pressed against his, and he could feel her heartbeat against him as she slowly regained her breath.

With her face so close, he muttered softly against her lips, his voice hushed but full of affection, "My woman."

Pashmina’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as she held onto him, her fingers gripping his shoulders, trying to steady herself after the rush of emotions. His words lingered in her ears, making her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t expected.

A mischievous smirk tugged at Shubman's lips as he leaned closer to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. His lips brushed lightly over her earlobe, sending a ripple of warmth through her. "Mama bear," he whispered teasingly, his voice low and playful. "We’ve got a lot of work to do. Stop blushing so much... Aryaman's coming tomorrow."

Pashmina felt a flush rise to her cheeks, her heart fluttering at the nickname he had affectionately given her. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady her breath, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment but also the reality of what was to come. Aryaman’s arrival—tomorrow. It felt like everything was moving so fast, but in Shubman arms, it all seemed right.

"Right, we have a lot to prepare," she murmured, pulling back just slightly to meet his eyes, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "But can’t we just enjoy this moment for a little longer?"

Shubman chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Of course, but you know I’ll be impatient. We have a little one to get ready for." He kissed her forehead gently, his hand resting on her back as if grounding them both in the joy and excitement that lay ahead.