“Should I go and see or you want to go?”
“I’ll go.” She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door, and marched in.
The stick was just as she had left it. No Stork had taken it as ‘confirmation of order,’ as Nilay had joked earlier. The reminder of that joke itself brought a smile to her face. That is why, when she saw the negative on the window, it didn't cut too deep.
“It’s negative,” she announced, suddenly not as rundown as she had expected she would be. There was always another month, another try, and another ‘attempt to order,’ as her husband so eloquently put. She wanted this. Really wanted this. In just six months of knowing this man, she wanted everything and more. She needed it. He had made life so wonderful. Even with conversations around conceiving through IVF, tests, ovulation cycles, hormonal shots, and regular visits to their gynaecologist, he had made life a party in true obnoxious Nilay fashion.
Case in point —
“Cry,” his hand came under her nose with the Malai Dark Chocolate Chips ice cream. She burst out laughing, plucking the cup from him, scooping out a bite and turning the spoon so that the ice cream rested smack in the middle of her tongue. Ritu turned, spoon in mouth, only to see him with his own spoon in his mouth, turned down. He had started to eat ice cream like her. She had started to eat vagharelo rotlo and khichdi for dinners. They had so easily melded into each other, something she had never expected to have at this set age. Teenagers and youngsters could easily flow into one another, accept each other’s personalities and traits, be flexible enough to bend. When she had agreed to marry Nilay Patel, Ritu had expected friction to be a steady companion of their lives.
With love, respect and the unique brand of bonding between them, she had also anticipated the practicality of two strong individualities from different walks of life colliding. Instead, she had found them more similar than different, and ready to blend instead of holding their own. And, let’s face it, they had bigger fish to fry. The fish in question had not materialised this time.See?Even her thoughts had become obnoxious like his. A baby was a fish to fry? Since when?
Ritu chuckled, eating ice cream quietly, looking at him.
“Happy?” He asked.
She nodded.
He offered her his half-finished cup like he always did. And she took it shamelessly, like she always did.
“We will try again when you are ready.” He cupped her face and kissed her cheek. “And if you decide to hit Pause or End, we will do that too. Ok?”
She smiled — “I’m ready for the next round already."
His face, that beautiful obnoxiously handsome face that became breathtaking when it went tender, went even softer. And then it stretched into a smile from beard to forehead. His facial muscles changed every time he smiled at her like that.
“Alright,” he kissed her mouth, stealing some of that ice cream. “Now, I am leaving for the store. What time is your OPD?”
“Dr. Shravan is seeing OPD today. I am taking over at Lilavati.”
“Nicking your way into saving another heart?” He went into his walk-in wardrobe and returned with his ensemble for the day. Even her vocabulary had changed living with him.Couture, ensemble, faux pas, blasé…Ritu rolled her eyes.
“Not good?” He held the muslin cream Mandarin shirt up to his chest. It was paired with a blinding white pair of pleated pants on a hanger in his hand and she didn't know how he would make this combination work. Except, Ritu had given up doubting. Or questioning. He always did make it work.
“Wear it and show me.” She lay back on their bed.
“Don’t you have to get ready?”
“I have an hour to go.”
“Then you show me what you are wearing first.”
“My scrubs.”
“Hot!” He came and sprawled out beside her. “The runway’s yours, Doctor.”
“Nilay.”
“What?”
“We don’t have time for what happens when I wear scrubs at home.”
His eyes darkened.
“No. No. I have to leave in twenty minutes.”
“You just said an hour!”
