Swara kept her eyes closed, resting her head against Ranvijay’s chest, drawing in slow, deep breaths as if she were trying to steady herself from the inside out. Ranvijay continued to stroke her hair gently, his fingers moving through the strands with careful tenderness while his eyes remained fixed on her face. He had been watching her like this for hours now, noticing every shift in her breathing, every faint tightening of her jaw. The eighth month had begun, and with it had come a new level of discomfort that neither of them had fully anticipated. Her body felt heavier, her movements slower, and even rest had become a negotiation with pain.

She wanted to sleep, but the moment she lay down, the baby inside her would begin moving restlessly, rolling and stretching in ways that made her wince. Sitting was no easier. The constant turning had left her legs aching so badly that tears now gathered at the corners of her eyes despite her efforts to hold them back. One hand rested protectively over her stomach, as though she were silently trying to reason with the life inside her, pleading for a little mercy, a little stillness.