CHAPTER 19: A FRAGILE MIRACLE

CHAPTER 19: A FRAGILE MIRACLE

Arjun's Point of View

She was sleeping peacefully again.

I sat on the edge of the bed, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her lashes like soft wings. The storm had passed for now, but inside me, a hundred questions brewed.

Three months pregnant.

Three months.

And she thought we were married for just one.

The timelines didn't match. And Pia… she was blissfully unaware. Not just of the pregnancy, but of everything. The years, the struggles, the dreams we built and lost and tried to rebuild again. Her mind had folded time like a letter tucked away in a drawer, leaving only what it wanted her to see.

When Ma—Rhea—told me the news, I didn't believe her at first.

"She's pregnant, Arjun," she said softly, standing beside Pia's hospital bed. "I ran a full scan while she was asleep. She's nearly three months along."

I had frozen. "Three months? That can't be."

"We missed it too. Her periods were always irregular post-trauma. And she didn't show the usual symptoms. Maybe it was stress, or maybe her body adapted quietly. But she's stable now. The baby… is healthy."

I didn't know what to say.

I'd spent two years watching over Pia like glass. Every headache, every dizzy spell, every stray emotional trigger—I'd been there, holding her hand through it all. And yet, somehow, I hadn't noticed she was carrying our child.

Our child.

My hand moved on its own, resting gently on her stomach. I could feel nothing beneath the softness of her nightgown, but I imagined the tiny heartbeat inside. Strong. Persistent. A miracle.

After we lost our first baby, the doctors weren't hopeful. Her internal injuries had been too severe. Her uterus, though intact, was weakened. Mom had said there was a chance, yes—but it was slim.

So we stopped hoping.

And now, here we were.

She was pregnant again.

And she didn't even know.

A tiny sob escaped me before I could stop it. I quickly turned away from her, biting down on my knuckle to stop the sound. I couldn't let her see me weak. Not again. Not now.

She stirred slightly and mumbled something, then went still again. Her forehead creased for a moment as if her body remembered something her mind couldn't grasp.

I still remembered the day of the accident like it was etched into my soul.

She had been so excited to buy baby clothes. She had dragged me to every store, laughing and arguing about colors and tiny socks. That evening, I had a meeting, so she promised she'd only grab coffee with a friend and come home soon.

But she never did.

Instead, I got a call.

An accident. A major one.

A car hit her.

She was six months pregnant.

When I reached the hospital, blood still on her forehead, doctors fighting to stabilize her—my world crumbled. We lost the baby. I lost the sparkle in her eyes. And in the days that followed, we lost parts of Pia.

The woman who had so lovingly spoken to our unborn child every morning stopped speaking altogether. The nights turned colder. She barely recognized herself in the mirror.

And then the amnesia began.

When she forgot our child, I broke.

But maybe that's how she survived.

Maybe forgetting was her brain's way of breathing when everything else drowned.

I looked at her now, her face softer in the dim bedside light. So unaware. So peaceful. And inside her—another chance.

A chance we never expected.

A gift we didn't ask for but received nonetheless.

I should be happy. I should be grateful. And I was.

But I was also terrified.

Because what if she remembers?

What if the pieces come back, jagged and sharp, ripping through the careful world we've created?

What if she remembers the baby we lost and can't bear the one we've been given?

Or worse… what if she forgets again?

And again?

How will I keep protecting her from herself?

Ma had warned me gently. "You'll need to be her anchor now more than ever, Arjun. We don't know how long this stability will last. Her mind is healing… but it's still fragile. Don't let her face too much at once."

I nodded, swallowing the weight that settled in my chest.

"How do I tell her, Ma?" I had asked.

"You don't," Rhea said. "Not yet. Let her body speak to her first. Let her feel it. When it's time, she'll ask the right questions."

I knew she was right. But it didn't make the waiting any easier.

And yet, there was hope.

Hope that maybe this child would bring back some of what we lost.

Hope that maybe Pia would remember the love that blossomed slowly between us.

Hope that this time, fate would be kinder.

She stirred again and opened her eyes slowly.

My heart skipped. "Hey…"

She blinked at me. "Arjun?"

"I'm here," I whispered.

She looked at my hand still resting over her belly. Her eyes flickered with a brief confusion.

"What were you doing?"

I smiled softly. "Just… holding you. You were dreaming."

She didn't question further.

Maybe she felt it. The life within her. The tiny echo of our love trying to find its way back.

"Go to sleep, Pia. I'm right here."

She gave me a tired nod and turned slightly toward me.

And in the silence that followed, I promised myself something—

That no matter how many times she forgot,

No matter how many memories were lost,

I would keep loving her through all of it.

One breath at a time.

One miracle at a time.