It had only been two days since Rudra left, yet it felt as though the walls of the chamber had grown taller, the corridors longer, and the nights unbearably empty. I sat on the edge of my bed, fingers tangled in the folds of my dupatta, staring at the doorway as though he might appear if I willed hard enough. The silence of the room pressed against me, broken only by the faint crackle of the lamp’s flame.

But it wasn’t only the ache of missing him that weighed on me. For two days now, my body had been strange—restless at night, heavy in the mornings, and more than once I had leaned over the basin with nausea rolling through me. I tried to brush it aside, not wanting to make anyone worry, but Maa—Rudra’s mother—noticed everything. She had urged me to call for the midwife, and though I resisted at first, today I finally yielded.