The drive back from Preeti and Shikha’s apartment was quiet at first, the city lights streaking past the windows in golden blurs. Ravi kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, stealing occasional glances at Simran. She sat with her head against the window, emerald dress still hugging her curves, the faint scent of rose attar and club smoke clinging to her.
Finally, Ravi broke the silence.
“Did you know about this Arjun thing before tonight?”
Simran turned to him, voice soft.
“Not completely. They told both of us today only. I mean… I knew they were planning for a baby, but not the details. Not that it would be him. Not like this.”
Ravi nodded slowly, eyes on the road.
“What do you think about it?”
Simran exhaled, fingers tracing the edge of her dress.
“I don’t know. It’s… a lot. Brave, maybe. But complicated. What do you think?”
Ravi was quiet for a long moment, the hum of the engine filling the space.
“I don’t know either. It’s definitely something to think about. It’s their life, their choice. Hopefully the baby will never ask for his or her father’s name. Because if they do… it’ll be a scandal. Especially once Arjun has his own family by then. A kid showing up years later saying ‘you’re my biological father’? That could blow everything up.”
Simran nodded, gaze distant.
“Yes. They have to be careful. It’s a loose thread, definitely. But… what can they do? The amount of pain a woman goes through in IVF—the injections, the hormones, the waiting, the heartbreak when it fails… compared to that, maybe this is peanuts. Who knows? They might shift to another city later. Or the child might never want to know. No one knows the future.”
Ravi reached over, squeezing her hand briefly.
“You’re right. No one knows.”
They fell silent again, the car gliding through the late-night Chandigarh streets until they pulled into their society gate. Ravi parked, killed the engine, and they walked upstairs in comfortable quiet.
Inside the flat, Ravi changed quickly—stripping off his shirt and trousers, pulling on soft grey track pants and an old T-shirt. He brushed his teeth, splashed water on his face, and slid under the covers, already half-asleep from the long evening.
Simran took longer. She moved through her night routine with deliberate slowness, as though needing the ritual to ground herself after the night’s revelations.
She started in the bathroom, standing under the warm shower for a few minutes—letting the water rinse away the club’s smoke, sweat, and the faint stickiness from earlier. Then came the cleansing milk: she pumped a generous amount into her palm, massaging it into her face in slow, circular motions—cheeks, forehead, chin, down her neck. The creamy liquid smelled faintly of rose and almond, melting into her skin, removing every trace of makeup until her face glowed clean and bare. She rinsed with cool water, patted dry, then applied a light night cream—fingers gliding over her cheekbones, under her eyes, across her collarbones, lingering at the tops of her breasts where the skin still felt tender.
She slipped out of the emerald dress, folding it carefully over the chair. Bra and panties came next—unhooked, peeled off, left in the hamper for Bhola tomorrow. Naked, she stood for a moment in front of the mirror, running her hands down her sides, over the soft swell of her belly, feeling the faint echo of fullness in her breasts. Then she reached for her favourite sleepwear: a pale blush-pink satin nightie, sleeveless, with delicate lace trim along the neckline and hem. It fell to mid-thigh, the slippery fabric whispering against her skin as she pulled it over her head. No bra, no panties—just the cool satin kissing her nipples and the curve of her ass, the hem brushing her thighs with every step.
She switched off the bathroom light, padded to the bed, and slipped under the sheet beside Ravi. He stirred, arm instinctively reaching for her waist, pulling her close. She curled into him, head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.
The night settled over them—quiet, warm, and full of unspoken questions.
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