Life, a word, a journey, a moment, and a story. One thing that can truly define life is 'Change'. We never know when and where our lives will change. Sometimes, it takes years and sometimes, in a moment. A similar kind of moment that changes life awaits Bhawna.

Dr Bhawna Sharma, a lecturer, wife, daughter and best friend, finds herself at a sudden but beautiful change of paths when the biggest news of her life visits her unexpectedly.

Greetings, my dear readers. Welcome! This is the first story from my collection. Hope you will like it and show some love. Happy Reading!

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17th July 2025, Delhi

... surprised, shocked, upset? No, no! Definitely not upset. A bolt from the blue, perhaps, a sweet disturbance, an unexpected revelation, relief, stress, chaos? There were so many names for the feelings that I was experiencing at this moment, but out of all these, there was no trace of sadness or disappointment. I was tense, for the future, stressed, maybe, for this unexpected information, happy for a new beginning, and whatnot. And why wouldn't I be? I was looking at the smallest gadget in my hand, which could change destinies and alter lives, that carries the most wonderful news of one's life. A small white display metre tucked carefully between my fingers, carrying two red lines on its screen. A simple gadget, a simple test, and an extravagant revelation.

"Bhawwwwnaaaaaaa?"

My sweet abstraction broke from the shrill shriek of my best friend, who sounded as if she would demolish the bathroom door and barge in without a second thought. And why not? For her, my safety, happiness, and sanity come first. She was probably dying of worry, waiting outside the bathroom of my apartment. She has no idea what is going on in my world at the moment. When the test kit arrived this morning, the first thing that I wanted to do was to hop in the toilet and check. But how can you do that in the presence of a best friend with an extraordinary intuition, breathing in the same house as you? It's not that I didn't want to give her the news first. She would always be the first one to know about any new developments in my life. But this was something which I was not sure about, at first. I wanted to take my time.

I had my doubts for the last few days. Bloating and cramping were very normal for me on my period. But that was the problem. There were symptoms, but no period. And so, I thought about taking a test. I mean, there's no harm, right? Plus, I wanted to be sure that there was nothing to worry about my cycle, so that I can see a doctor and get it cured. So, I ordered a kit this morning. I thought it might arrive before she wakes up, but no, how can things be straight and simple in my life? The kit arrived at the very moment when she was standing right next to me in the kitchen, preparing my breakfast. And, so I lied!! All I told her was that I had a bad stomach and needed to use the washroom, and before she could ask me a hundred more questions, I ran for it and locked myself inside, in the name of emergency. She left me alone in peace until this moment. And why wouldn't she be worried? I was in the bathroom for the last 40 minutes, and this must have crossed the height of patience for my otherwise very patient best friend.

"Bhawanaaaa?? Are you okay, babe? Please answer, or at least open the door, let me see, let me help you, babe. Is it that bad? Should I call a doctor?"

Before I could reply, I heard a loud gasp, and then she went again, "Are you in your senses? Did you faint? Babe, please open the door."

"Oh, Mahadev ji, should I call the security. Number hona chahiye mere phone mein..."

She would have gone into a panic attack herself had I not opened the door on time. I saw her standing right in front of me, with her eyes watering, brows furrowed, one hand on her waist, and with the other dialling someone up on her phone.

"Kya kar rahi thi u itni der se andar? Sab theek hai naa? Pait zyada kharab hai? Should I call a doctor?..."

"Ishaaaa... breathe, breathe Babygirl, please, longer inhale, calmer exhale..."

She would have gone on and on, had I not interrupted her. A small hint of a smile came to my face after seeing her like this. My best friend, Isha Ahuja, the calm breeze amidst the thunderous storm. She came into my life when I had lost all hope in humanity, when the world seemed selfish, and when everyone around me looked arrogant. She came as a saviour, and nestled in my life like a beautiful songbird whose only aim is to sing for me when the edges of life get extra rough. And she had proved it, time and again. Even now, even in this situation, when I was feeling extra emotional, and my body was not cooperating with me. I had just sent her a message updating her about my missed period, my body ache, my mood swings, my emotional state, and my dire need to burn the entire world, and she had taken a flight the next day to me. Leaving everything behind, her home, her husband, her job, her office, her responsibilities, everything. She told me everything was on hold until I feel better. That's how she was, loving and nurturing, my best friend, Isha, the Magistrate of one of the busiest districts, Lucknow, was standing here in my hallway, almost crying, praying, ready to lose her sanity. All because I didn't open the door. 

I smiled at her and pulled her in a hug. A hug that was sweet, reassuring and comforting.

"Are you okay?" she asked in her meek voice, and all I could say was, "Hmm, I am all good now."

I just had the biggest news of my life. I was going to be a mother. And I was on cloud nine.

Breakfast was uneventful, other than the continuous questions showered at me by her, with me zoning out from time to time into the musings of my now unplanned, unexpected, but beautiful future.

...

The ride back home was extremely stressful. The usual Delhi traffic, the noise, the pollution, all of it was taking an extra toll on me today. Five hours of non-stop teaching, heightened mood swings, and the feeling of nausea after smelling something weird. Adding to my miseries of the day were my extremely swollen feet, which made it difficult for me to even take a bathroom break. As far as my calculations go, I was running on about 3 weeks in my gestation.

Today, made me think. Think very hard about what will happen in the future. If everything that I faced today, all the symptoms, all the conditions, persist, how would I work for the next 9 months? Moreover, how will I live without my job? At some point, I will have to take my maternity leave, and even if everything is handled, what about after that? How will I...

The thought process was exhaustive, and it worked in chains. Each question, each doubt carried into another and one. I reminded myself I need to be grounded in the present and not dwell too much on what was yet to come. Before I sank deeper into my overthinking zone, I switched on the radio in my car. Music has always helped me to unwind and refocus. I wanted to enjoy this moment, this news, and worry later. A very faint tune was playing on, and I rolled the volume node to immerse myself in it.

Ummm, ummm, ummm...

Orey piya, main to tere layi, sau raata jagu...

The song took me by surprise. Tere bin, by Rahat Fateh Ali, was playing, and it made me forget about everything else. All I could think about was him and how warm and happy he would be knowing he was going to be a father.

It was surprising to gather how, in just a moment, I was occupied by his thoughts, triggered by only a piece of music. Within a few minutes, guided by the soulful resonance of the song, I drifted into the reverie of our first meeting, our story, our marriage, the struggles, the sweet life after the struggles and Him, my husband, Veer.

Veer was my anchor, my guiding spirit and my family. If Isha was the reason for my survival, then Veer was my sanity. He was the man of my life, my other half, my missing rib.

My heart was already flooded with too many feelings since morning, and his remembrance only intensified them. A part of me was excited to tell him the news as soon as possible, and then there was the other me who had a slight doubt about his reaction. Whether he'll be happy, or tense, excited like me, or overwhelmed with the new responsibilities. And with this, started my newest session of overthinking. But before I could take on the lead with the song changed, replaced by the overjoyed voice of the RJ, and traffic moved. Finally!

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When I reached home, the early evening sky, which usually carried the hues of pink and orange, had turned grey, covered by dark clouds, ready to pour down any minute. As I made my way from the parking corridor to my building, I was surrounded by several different smells that the light, smooth breeze carried with it. Subtle traces of jasmine from a nearby tree suggested it was in full bloom. The crushed cardamom from the watchman's cabin gave away the chai that he was preparing. A very vanilla and fruity fragrance of Mrs Sharma, my neighbour in her late fifties, who was taking her routine walk. All of these, accompanied by the sweet notes of the earthy smell of that first time the rain grazes the scorching hot surface of the ground after weeks of torturously hot weather. This mélange of different aromas seemed pleasant, surprisingly pleasant to my olfactory sense. It provided me with the much-needed relief from my stressful day at work. It disengaged me from the pressure that I was feeling and the overthinking that accompanied it. And in that moment, I decided to break the news of my pregnancy to Veer and Isha today itself, without thinking about it much.

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As I was waiting for the main door of my apartment to open, I felt Isha was taking longer to open it, unusually longer for her fast-paced, athletic feet. Weird!

I assumed she was busy, maybe in her room, the bathroom, the kitchen, or on a call. You never knew with her. The thoughts amused me so much that when the door actually opened, it took me a minute to gather myself and register the tall, towering figure standing in the doorway, welcoming me with his soul-capturing smile. His dark eyes, which usually look at me like I was something to be treasured, gazed at me with anticipation, waiting for me to come out of my trance. I stood still with my mouth ajar and eyes bulging out at him.

"Muh band kar lijiye, Biwi! Machchar chala jayega, aur phir hume sari raat aapse yeh complain sunni padegi ki humari wajah se aap ek living creature ko nigal gayi!"

He exclaimed very normally and tried to close my open mouth gently by lifting my chin with his index finger.

It was Veer! In real, in flesh, at the moment. And that, I did not expect.

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60 minutes had passed, and I still couldn't believe what happened. I was sitting in my living room with Isha and Veer, who were very animatedly busy in an argument over chai vs. coffee and what is better. Isha, being a coffee drinker, and Veer, a chai lover, made the conversation look entertaining. But I was hardly attentive to their discussion. I was still trying to digest the fact that in one day, my best friend visited me, I got the news of my pregnancy, and now my husband was here to surprise me.

While stepping into the house, Veer told me that he had been thinking about this rendezvous since the day I gave him the news of my promotion. He, double quotes, highlighted the fact that we needed to have a personal celebration. Honestly, I was delighted. Veer had always made me feel privileged, like I was someone to be cherished and loved forever. His visit was one of the many small actions of love that he displayed very proudly and diligently. It was him to balance it out for us most of the time. I, being occupied with my government job, and he, being tied to his business in his home town leaves a little space for us to share a roof for more than seven days in a row. Us being apart most of the time, owing to my transfers, was one of the many obstacles that we wouldn't have crossed had it not been for his handling it with love and care. That also made me realise that this pregnancy period will give me a chance to spend more than those seven days with him and actually live with him through every moment.

"...I know what will be her verdict! She is herself a coffee lover, and she will definitely put coffee over tea. Won't you, Bhawna?" My train of thought paused as I heard Isha giving her final statement and very gracefully sliding the baron to me.

Veer's eyes bore into me as I recollected myself. I looked at him, and it only took him a few heartbeats to understand that my mind was somewhere else, somewhere far, in its own world, away from this chaotic conflict between coffee and chai. And on cue, very smartly, though he deflected the discussion to something else, weather, maybe. I excused myself in the name of changing my clothes and getting something to eat.

...

I was in the kitchen, changed into my comfortable clothes, thinking and deciding on what to prepare for dinner. The weather outside had taken an ethereal turn, and it had started raining. Isha had excused herself to her room; she had some calls lined up, and Veer was going through his emails, still on the couch in the living room. Their banter came to an end somewhere that I didn't notice.

A few minutes later, as I was soaking the dal and chawal for dinner, I felt his presence around me and saw him opening the fridge in the kitchen. Maybe he needed some water, so I, satisfied with my assumption, went back to my task.

Instead, he walked next to me and started lighting the gas stove.

"Kya kar rahe hain aap?" I asked him, amused at his actions. He very swiftly rolled his sleeves up, placed the saucepan on the stove, and started adding water and tea leaves to it.

"Chai bana rahe hain, aur kya karenge?" He answered as if that was the most usual sight for me.

"App kyun? Swati kahan hain? Wo bana degi naa."

"Humne unhe ghar bhej diya. Bohut der ho chuki thi aur Mausam kharab hone wala tha. She should arrive at her house on time." He replied before I could call for Swati, my house help. I looked at him, astonished. How was he real?

"Aap? Aap banayenge chai?" I asked him immediately. He looked at me, bemused at my accusing tone, but continued his work of crushing ginger as the water was boiling. I made myself comfortable, sitting on the slab of my kitchen, very near to where my husband was meticulously working.

"College mein humare haath ki chai bohut mashhoor thi..." He started with zeal and excitement. I tried very hard to focus on what story he was telling me about his college days, but the spark in his eyes was stealing all my attention. I continued looking at him with a smile, admiring the details of his face while he told his stories.

"...Aur ek app hain, jinhe chai pasand hi nahi hai." He looked at me pointedly, charging me with this heinous crime of not being a tea drinker. And I just smiled and tilted my face at his sweet complaint.

"Ekbaar, bas ekbaar, aaj humare haath ki chai peeke to dekhein. Bas ek cup? Hmm?" He leaned into me so lovingly, with his eyes pouring ounces of love and care for me, his tone so soft, that it can melt away the wax without burning the candle. I cast my eyes down, not able to handle the serious tension that his proximity always delivers.

"Aap humare is humble se Sarkari apartment ke chote se kitchen mein chai banayenge, to humare kitchen ki shobha kuch zyada nahi badh jayegi, Yuvraj sa!" I spoke while sliding down the counter and taking out the snacks from the cabinet in the opposite direction. I almost teased him there, but forgot that he was the principal of the school I was still trying to graduate from.

I had my back to him while I was serving the mathri, namakpaare, and daal moth that Isha brought with her. I was engrossed in my work, but froze when I felt him behind me. His tall stature towered over me, with his hard chest pressed against my back.

"Agar aap humare haath ki chai ek baar pee lengi, to humari shobha badh jayegi, Yuvrani sa." He whispered in my ear, which sounded almost like a dream. His honey-toned voice, which was otherwise baritone with authority, was coated with sugar, only for me. My heart skipped a beat, and I closed my eyes momentarily, surprised at the effects he still had on me.

I immediately looked at him, and he continued, "Aapki ijazat ho to Nikal dein? Bas ek cup? Hmm?" Kunwar Veer Singh Shivraj, the Yuvraj of Kalyanpur, forgot to tell me or request me; he was asking for my permission to serve a cup of tea for me. How can I reject this? So, I nodded, making him smile the brightest.

"Do cup," I answered him with my words, simultaneously confirming the number of cups with my two fingers.

And just like that, in that very small moment, a memory was saved, a picture was clicked, of one of the many sweet little moments shared between us. And to me, it was not only a memory locked but a reassurance that no matter what life throws at me, at us, we will be ready and prepared.

And I realised that I was going to break the biggest news of our lives to him over the do cup chai that we were about to share in this small, cosy Sarkari apartment, surrounded by the pleasant rainy weather outside.

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Thank you so much for reading! Please vote and comment.

This was a one shot story and it ends here, but Bhawna and Veer will go on living their happily ever after.

I will be back with more characters and moments soon.