Chapter 26

The cold Manali wind brushed against my face as me and Anup stepped out of the car. My hands clung tightly to his, as if anchoring myself to this moment, to him. The weight of our decision still sat heavy in my heart, but there was also something else—determination.

As we entered the house, I saw my father standing in the living room. His face was tired, worry lines etched deeper than before, but when his eyes met mine, they softened with relief.

"Papa..." I whispered, my voice trembling.

My father stepped forward, his gaze shifting between me and Anup. "Are you okay, beta?"

I nodded, squeezing Anup's hand for strength. "Papa, we need to talk."

My father's brows furrowed slightly, but he gestured for us to sit. Anup, his grip firm but reassuring, led me to the sofa.

Taking a deep breath,I looked at my father in the eye and said, "Anup and I want to marry."

Silence.

The air around us felt thick, heavy with unsaid words. My father's expression remained unreadable as he studied us, his gaze lingering on Anup. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed and shook his head with a small smile.

"I was wondering when Anup would finally admit it," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

My eyes widened. "You... you knew?"

My father chuckled. "Beta, I've known for days now. I saw the way Anup looked at you, the way he always stood by your side." His voice softened. "And I know he will take care of you, no matter what."

Anup lowered his gaze, guilt flickering across his face. "Uncle, I—"

"I know," my father interrupted gently. His expression turned serious as he looked at Anup. "I know what you're going through."

My breath hitched. "Papa..."

My father exhaled deeply and walked over to Anup, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Beta, I wish I could change fate. I wish I could take away your pain. But I can't. What I can do is give you my blessing." His voice trembled slightly. "Because you are the only man I would ever trust with my daughter's heart."

Tears pooled in Anup's eyes, but he nodded, swallowing back his emotions. "Thank you, Uncle."

My father turned to me, cupping my face in his hands. "You're making a brave choice, my child. And I know it won't be easy. But if this is what makes you happy... then I am with you."

I let out a sob and threw my arms around my father. "Thank you, Papa," I whispered, my heart swelling with both love and pain.

My father held me tightly before stepping back and looking at both of us. "Then it's settled." He smiled, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Let's get you two married."

After two days,

The soft hum of wedding hymns filled the air, blending with the sound of crackling firewood as the sacred havan burned at the heart of the mandap. The chill of Manali's winter night was forgotten under the golden glow of fairy lights strung around the venue, illuminating the faces of those gathered.

I sat in front of the holy fire, wrapped in a deep red sari, the intricate gold embroidery glistening under the flickering flames. My hands, adorned with henna, trembled slightly in my lap. I wasn't afraid, nor was I sad. Instead, I felt... peaceful. Not the overwhelming joy of love, but the quiet comfort of trust.

I didn't love Anup the way he loved me. But I respected him with all my heart. And above all, I trusted him—with my life, with my future, and with the child I carried.

Anup, seated beside me, looked beyond happy. Dressed in an ivory sherwani with a deep red dupatta draped over his shoulder, his eyes never left mine. His happiness was so pure, so untouched by doubt, that it made my heart ache.

He deserved love—the kind that swept people off their feet, the kind that made the world disappear. But what he had, what I could give, was loyalty, respect, and devotion, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

The priest chanted the holy mantras, calling us forward for the saat phere—the seven vows that would bind us forever. My stomach churned again, another wave of nausea from my pregnancy, but I forced a small smile. This child would have a great father. A father who would love him with everything he had.

As we stood for the first round, Anup glanced at me, concern flickering in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

I looked at him, at the man who had always been my pillar of strength.

"I'm okay," I said softly. "Because I know I'm not alone."

Anup's face lit up with warmth, his grip on my hand tightening just slightly, and as we took our first step around the fire, I made a silent promise to him, to our unborn child, and to myself—That no matter what happened, I would stand by Anup. I would make this marriage work.

The mornings usually started slow now. Not because I was tired — though I often was — but because Anup made it a point to press a kiss to my belly before he even opened the curtains. "Good morning, little heartbeat," he'd whisper, his cheek resting against the soft curve of my growing bump. "And good morning, my sunshine"

Then he'd shuffle into the kitchen — messy hair, sleepy smile — and make my favorite breakfast, even if it meant googling how to make parathas properly or cutting fruit into tiny heart shapes. I'd catch him peeking at me from the kitchen door, like he still couldn't believe this life was real.

He read every book on pregnancy. Highlighted parts. Made lists. Downloaded apps. Asked the doctor a thousand questions at every appointment — "Is she okay?" "Is the baby kicking enough?" "Is it normal for her to cry over samosas?"

At night, he rubbed my swollen feet with warm oil, murmuring little nothings — stories about our future, jokes about the baby becoming a chef or a rockstar. He talked to my belly like it was already a whole person, one who mattered as much to him as i did.

And when the cravings came — be it 2 a.m. ice cream or the exact vada pav from that one tiny stall near our old college — he never complained. He just grabbed his keys, kissed my forehead, and said, "Be right back, my sunshine"

Some days, when i felt particularly low and heavy and unsure of my body, he came up behind me while i stood in front of the mirror, gently wrapping his arms around my waist. He rested his hands on my belly and said, "I've never loved you more than I do right now. You're growing our baby. That's magic."

I cried. He held me and in that moment, there was nothing more sacred.

Marriage with Anup wasn't just flowers and date nights — though there were plenty of those too. It was the soft things. The gentle check-ins. The way he talked to the baby like an old friend. The way he looked at me like i was still the girl he fell in love with — but also something more now. His home.

After 6 months of marriage,

Today the night was quiet, the only sound in the room was the slow, steady breathing of Anup as he sat against the headboard. I lay beside him, my head resting on his lap, my swollen belly of nine months rising and falling with each breath. The child within me shifted again, making me wince slightly

Anup chuckled weakly, his fingers moving gently through my hair. "Our baby is restless tonight."

I let out a small, tired smile, placing my hand over my stomach. "Just like its father."

Anup hummed softly, but his expression turned serious. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice quieter than before.

"Harshita... I need to ask you something."

I looked up at him, noticing the way his eyes held an emotion I couldn't quite name. "What is it?"

Anup exhaled shakily. "I need you to promise me something."

I frowned, pushing myself up slightly. "Anup, what's wrong?"

He took my hand in his and held it gently. "I won't always be here, Harshita."

I stiffened, my heart clenching painfully. "Don't say that—"

"Please, just listen." His voice was calm but firm. "We both know the truth. I don't have forever. But you do."

I bit my lip, my eyes glistening with unshed tears. I hated this conversation. I hated the reality behind his words.

Anup squeezed my hand. "When I'm gone... and if someday, someone comes into your life—someone who loves you, who makes you happy—promise me you'll give them a chance."

My breath caught in my throat. "Anup, how can you even say that?"

Anup smiled faintly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Because I love you, Harshita. And I want you to live. I don't want you to spend your life alone, punishing yourself by holding onto my memories. If happiness finds you again... don't push it away."

Tears spilled down my cheeks. "You are my husband." my voice cracked. "How can I even think about someone else?"

Anup cupped my face gently, his thumb wiping away my tears. "I will always be a part of you, in your memories, in our child." He let out a shaky breath. "But life moves forward, Harshita. You should too."

I sobbed, shaking my head. I didn't want this. I didn't want to think about a future where he wasn't beside me. But deep down, I knew why he was doing this. He was setting me free before he even left.

I clenched my fists, struggling to find my voice. "And what if I don't want to?"

Anup smiled, pressing his forehead against mine. "Then don't. But if one day you do... just remember this moment. Remember that I gave you my blessing."

I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent, memorizing the warmth of his touch and then, with a shattered heart, I whispered the words that broke me—"I promise."

Anup exhaled a sigh of relief, kissing my forehead tenderly. "Thank you."

But I wasn't ready to keep this promise.....Not yet.

"You're selling everything," I declared, my voice firm. "The house, the land, the shares—everything."

Anup's brows furrowed. "Harshita—"

"I've already found the best oncologist. The number one in the country. There's still time, Anup," I pleaded. "We'll go, we'll start the treatment—just please fight!"

Anup sighed deeply, his fingers gently intertwining with mine. "Harshita..." His voice was soft, but final.

My heart clenched. "Don't say it," I whispered, shaking my head.

"I don't want to spend my last days in a hospital," he continued, despite the pain in my eyes. "I don't want sterile white walls to be the last thing I see. I don't want wires and beeping machines to be the only things keeping me alive."

Tears burned down my cheeks. "You don't know that! What if the treatment works? What if you survive?"

Anup smiled faintly, lifting a weak hand to wipe my tears. "And what if I don't? What if I spend the rest of my days in pain, away from you, away from our baby? I have gone to the best oncologist across the country and everyone have said it's has reached the advanced stage of cancer and nothing more can be done." His voice cracked, but he held my gaze. "I want to be here, with you. I want to hold our child in my arms. I want to hear you laugh, see you smile. I don't want our last memories to be filled with suffering."

I broke down, clutching his hand to my chest. "Anup, I can't do this without you," I sobbed. "I can't raise this child alone. I don't know how to be a mother without you by my side."

Anup pulled me close, pressing a long kiss to my forehead. "You're stronger than you think," he whispered. "And you won't be alone. I will always be with you, in our child, in the memories we make together."

I shook my head against his chest, my tears dampening his shirt. "This isn't fair."

He let out a soft chuckle, though it was filled with sadness. "Life rarely is."

I pulled away, my lips trembling. "Promise me one thing, then."

Anup tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes warm despite the sorrow in them. "Anything."

"Stay with me. Until the very end."

Anup's grip tightened around me, his lips brushing against my temple. "Always."

And in that moment, I realized—I couldn't change his fate But I could love him for every second he had left.