Finally, she sighed.
"Fine. I will work in here. But only because fighting you takes more energy than I have right now."
I smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before she could pull away.
"That is all I ask, baby."
She slid off the desk and stalked over to her new workstation, sitting down with exaggerated dignity. I returned to my desk and tried to focus on my own work.
But I kept glancing over at her throughout the morning. Watching the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating. The way she absently rubbed her stomach. The way she bit her lower lip when she was thinking.
Around one in the afternoon, she spoke without looking up from her computer.
"I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon. For a checkup."
My head snapped up.
"What time?"
"Three o'clock."
"I will come with you."
Now she did look up, surprise clear on her face.
"You do not have to do that. I can go alone."
"I am coming with you. You are carrying our child. I want to be there for every appointment."
She looked like she wanted to argue, but then just nodded and returned to her work.
At two thirty, we left the office together. I drove us to the clinic, my hand occasionally drifting to rest on her thigh before she would gently but firmly move it away.
The waiting room was quiet, filled with other pregnant women and their partners. We checked in and sat down. Viya picked up a magazine and pretended to read it, but I could see her hands trembling slightly.
She was nervous. So was I.
When her name was called, we both stood and followed the nurse to the examination room.
Dr. Patel, a kind woman in her fifties, greeted us warmly.
"Mrs. Khanna, it is good to see you. And you must be the father."
"Armaan Khanna," I said, shaking her hand.
The examination began. Dr. Patel took Viya's vitals, asked about symptoms, made notes on her chart. Then came the ultrasound.
Viya lay back on the examination table, and Dr. Patel applied gel to her small bump. When the probe touched her skin and the monitor came to life, I moved closer without thinking.
And there it was. Our baby. A small, perfect shape on the screen. The doctor pointed out the head, the tiny limbs, the rapid flutter of the heartbeat.
Tears blurred my vision. I could not help it. That was my child. Mine and Viya's. A life we had created together.
"Everything looks perfect," Dr. Patel said with a smile. "The baby is measuring right on track for twelve weeks. Heart rate is strong and healthy."
"Twelve weeks?" I said, my voice rough with emotion.
"Yes. The baby is due in approximately seven months."
