— Part 2 of “Strangers in Sindoor”

Rahul came home late that evening, exhausted from work, loosened tie in hand. The house smelled of sandalwood and fresh mogra. Lights were dim. Music played softly.

Rani stood in the kitchen, wearing his old kurta—the one she always stole.

She smiled mysteriously.

> “You’re home early,” she teased, though it was already past 10.

He hugged her from behind, pressing a kiss to her temple.

> “You feel warm,” he said gently. “Everything okay?”

She turned around, placed his hand over her belly, and whispered,

> “There’s a heartbeat here… other than mine.”

Rahul blinked, stunned.

> “You mean…?”

She nodded, eyes glassy.

> “Yes. We’re going to be three.”

He didn’t speak—he just dropped to his knees, kissed her belly, and said softly:

> “I don’t know what I did right in life… but thank you for this.”

---

From that day on, romance became routine—but not the boring kind. The real kind.

Rahul read baby books out loud, using silly voices.

Rani drew little hearts on the calendar marking baby milestones.

He talked to her belly every night like it was already listening.

And she? She kept falling in love with the man who now held her feet while she vomited, massaged her back, and whispered:

> “This baby is lucky. It’s going to have a mother who loves like a storm and a father who… well, tries not to cry at every doctor visit.”

---

One night, as she lay on the hospital bed, about to deliver, scared and in pain, Rahul held her hand and said:

> “I married you without knowing how deep love could go. But right now, watching you bring our baby into this world—I swear, I’ve never loved you more.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

> “You were worth the wait,” she said.

“You are my forever,” he replied.

And when the first cry of their baby filled the room, Rani looked at Rahul and whispered,

> “This… is what love arranged for us.”