Life She Never Planned

Pillow talk

It’s 2:00 AM, and she still can’t sleep. She is a proud tummy sleeper, but she has been strictly advised against it for the last three months.

“If I could just turn around and lie on my tummy for a second, maybe I’d finally fall asleep. Damn.”

She isn’t even sure if she said that out loud or just thought it. Over the past three months, she has grown used to talking to herself. Not because she has no one to talk to—she currently lives in a home that houses ten to fifteen people—but because she has no one, she can truly speak her mind to. Literally no one.

So even if she did say it out loud, who would hear it?

She holds her stomach and curses herself for even thinking about turning over. After a moment, she decides to shift the other way, unaware that someone is sleeping quietly beside her. Unaware that he didn’t go out tonight but stayed back and had silently fallen asleep next to her.

Her eyes remain shut. She doesn’t realize that his face is only a couple of inches away from hers, or that the warmth she feels on her arm, tucked beneath her head, is his breath.

She opens her eyes in a panic—and instantly, they meet his.

From what she has learned over the past couple of months, he is the soundest sleeper she has ever known. He could sleep through an earthquake.

And yet… tonight, he is awake.

Looking at her.

She nervously blurts out, “I’m not able to sleep tonight,” clutching her hand tightly over her stomach.

He glances down at it and says softly, “I know.”

“What about you? I mean… why aren’t you sleeping?” she asks, a hint of guilt in her voice.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t sleep tonight.”

Her expression shifts, confusion written all over her face. But before she can respond, he continues,

“I know you’re too conflicted tonight.”

The weight of his words hit her instantly. She frowns, a flicker of irritation rising. “Conflicted about what, exactly?”

He doesn’t answer. He just keeps looking at her.

When the silence stretches too long, she tilts her head and looks up at the ceiling, avoiding his gaze.

Finally, he speaks. “You’re conflicted between trying to be a good person… and just being human.”

His tone softens, as if trying to ease her irritation. “Don’t worry. I’m conflicted too.”

She turns back to him, calmer now. “And what reason do you have to be conflicted?”

He answers almost instantly. “I don’t really care about being good. I’m conflicted between doing what’s right…”

He leans closer, his face nearing hers, his breath warm against her ear.

“…or what my heart desires.”

A small smile appears on her lips. She knows there was no need for him to whisper. He only did it to come closer—to feel her, to breathe her in. And that thought alone makes her smile.

Encouraged, he leans in further… and gently presses his lips against hers.

He cups her face with one hand, gently brushing away a strand of hair that has fallen across her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. She tilts her head slightly and presses a soft kiss to his hand.

She shifts onto her side, turning toward him. “So… was that you doing the right thing, or following what your heart desires?” she asks.

He chuckles softly at her question and playfully pinches her chin. “There you go… your mind has started doing the math.”

His fingers trail downward, pausing as he lifts the pendant of her mangalsutra, holding it up between them. “Because of this,” he says quietly, “my kissing you can never be wrong… right?”

He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on the pendant before letting it fall back against her skin.

She gestures for him to come closer, curling her fingers slightly. He doesn’t hesitate.

Their lips meet again—this time, lingering longer, deeper, filled with unspoken emotion.

When they finally part, she lies back, breathing softly, her hands resting on her stomach.

He places his hands over hers, stealing them, and then bends down to press a tender kiss against her slightly swollen belly.

Her eyes well up, her voice trembling slightly. “You remember when I came to Chandigarh…” she begins, her voice softer now, almost distant. “I was so angry. I just wanted to… lash out at you. Prove a point.”

She lets out a faint, self-aware smile, shaking her head slightly. “I told you I could do it all on my own. That I didn’t need you.”

A pause. Longer this time. He doesn’t interrupt.

“But I was wrong.”

Her fingers tighten around his, almost as if she’s afraid he might pull away. “I can’t do this alone. Not this.”

Her gaze softens as she places her hand over his. “If you can just love this baby… that’s all I need from you.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His hand moves gently over her belly, protective and certain. “I love this baby more than I love myself,” he says quietly.

And this time, there is no conflict in his words.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks, and she wasn’t entirely sure what had moved her so deeply.

She had never imagined becoming a mother this early in her life. She had always been certain of a different path—building her career, improving her family’s financial condition, buying a house… and then, maybe, if she got lucky, finding a decent man who wouldn’t hesitate to marry her.

Maybe then.

But none of her plans had come true.

In fact, everything had unfolded in the exact opposite way. She had barely made a mark at work, and now here she was—pregnant, with a man who might actually turn out to be a near-perfect father.

Of course, not a perfect husband. Not even close.

But that was alright. She wasn’t aiming to be a perfect wife either. Soon enough, she would be a runaway wife.

And yet… despite all these broken plans and quiet disasters, something about this—this fragile, unexpected little family—felt overwhelming in a way she couldn’t explain.

The thought of it broke something open inside her, and she began to sob uncontrollably.

Maybe it was the hormones. It was always easy to blame a woman’s hormones.

He was the most emotionally stunted man she had ever known, and yet somehow, he instinctively knew how to calm her. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her firmly against him.

The suddenness of the gesture startled her into silence.

She lay there quietly, wrapped in his embrace, and slowly, the sobs faded.

She didn’t want to be the first to let go. But the practical part of her took over, gently pushing him away. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to create all this drama,” she murmured.

He saw right through her.

Without saying anything, he pulled her back into his arms again, stronger this time, as if refusing to let her retreat behind her defenses.

His touch softened, lingering. He began to kiss her face, slowly, finding quiet ways to feel her skin, to stay close.

But just as the moment began to deepen—

A knock interrupted them.

It was his cousins, calling him out for a party.

They pulled apart reluctantly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he got out of bed. Before leaving, he turned back briefly. “Go to sleep. Now.”

She nodded, a small smile forming despite everything.

He left.

And within seconds, she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up the next morning, he was there beside her—fast asleep, his hand resting possessively over her belly, as if it belonged there.

This man… was her husband, Krish.

The same man she had seen kissing another woman just yesterday.

She placed her hand gently over his, tracing it absentmindedly, a strange, conflicted smile playing on her lips.

She was Radhika—living a life she had never wanted…

And yet, somehow, learning how to fit into it.