I awoke from my slumber due to a knock on the door. I looked about, perplexed, as the repetitive thuds rang true around the quiet cabin. I shivered as I wrapped the shawl over myself—it was growing colder in Manali.
The weight of my current thoughts pressed up on me again. I wasn't only cold, but also numb. My boyfriend's betrayal still felt like an open wound. The notion that it was all a cruel bet—a game to him—made me feel degraded beyond words. How could I have been so blind?
I had trusted Vedant and believed in his love, only to find out that it was all a deception. The mountains had always been my sanctuary, but now their calm beauty seemed unconcerned about my suffering. The knocking persisted and became increasingly urgent. I paused, my breath misting in the cool air. Who could be here at this hour?
I moved slowly to the door, my pulse hammering with a mixture of worry and curiosity. As the snow continued to pour outside, I took a deep breath, hoping against all odds that this moment would offer something other than more misery.
I anxiously opened the door, and there was my friend Anup. When I first arrived in Manali, Anup was the last person I anticipated anything from, but he turned out to be the light in my gloom. He has been my savior for the past three months. He stood before me, smiling, a warm and reassuring presence amid the cold.
Anup had always been present, even when I attempted to push him away. He never asked for anything in return and never made me feel bad about my grief. Instead, he stayed and offered me true kindness. On days when I wanted to hide in my misery, he would find a way to make me smile—a ridiculous joke, a simple gesture, or simply sitting beside me in silence, never pressuring me to recover. I think Anup sensed that something was wrong with me, but he never asked about it.
More than that, Anup cared for me in ways I had never experienced. On days when I forgot to eat because I was too depressed, he would silently set a warm meal in front of me, ensuring that I took at least a few bites. He always made sure I ate on time, never allowing me to skip meals, even when I was too sick to care for myself. He made sure I arrived at school safely, dropped me off, and made every effort to make my life as comfortable as possible.
He would text me reminders to drink water, write little messages of encouragement when I wasn't looking, and proudly introduce me to his coworkers and friends as if I were the most important person in his life. However, not everyone welcomed my stay there. Some folks at his school still disliked me working there. They tried to body shame and ridicule me, but Anup always treated me with respect. He never made me feel small, and he stood up for me in ways that no one had before. He even clashed with one of his buddies who attempted to body shame me, emphasizing that he would not tolerate any disrespect toward me.
"Come in," I said.
"Are you okay, Sunshine? "I heard you took a leave of absence from school, and Uncle also told me you're not feeling well," he continued, taking my temperature with his fingers on my neck. I took a step away from the touch. Any touch makes me feel unsafe near anyone.
"I apologize; I was only checking your temperature. If my gesture made you feel uncomfortable, I apologize," Anup added, taking a step back and appearing truly remorseful.
"No...I'm simply not feeling good these days. I feel like sleeping all day," I answered with a feeble smile. "Leave that, do you want to have a cup of coffee?"
"I would want to drink coffee, but I am running late today. By the way, I have a surprise for you. This evening, I'm taking you to a restaurant, and you're not going to say no," he added, beaming.
"I do not feel like eating anything. I am throwing up everything. I am not sure what I ate last night that is making me sick. I'm sorry, but I can't make it," I said. But I knew he was attempting to win me over. How could I lead him on when my heart was so broken beyond repair?
Despite everything, Anup remained patient. He never pushed me or demanded anything from me. He simply cared, in ways that were effortless yet profound. And perhaps it was the type of love I was looking for all along. But I knew: I had been ruined for him. All my life, this was the love I had yearned for in a partner, but now I was afraid I would never be able to love again.
"Okay, we'll talk about it later." Go to the doctor," Anup urged, placing something on the table. I glanced up and noticed that he had brought lunch for me.
"Eat it whenever you feel like. I know you're throwing up, so I asked for my assistance in preparing a basic khichdi for you," Anup remarked, smiling, and then proceeded to the door.
"I appreciate all of your help over the last few months. Nobody has done what you are doing for me and Papa. We are forever indebted to you," I remarked with a faint smile.
He just nodded and departed; I took a long breath and decided to freshen myself. Dragging myself to the restroom. I removed my cozy wrap and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water to relieve my sore body. As steam curled about me, I let the water wash away the tiredness that clung to my skin, if only for a moment. The warmth was comfortable, providing a little relief from the cold both outside and within me.
After that, I wrapped myself in a towel and went to my closet, where I pulled out a thick woolen sweater and some jeans. Dressing up felt like a nuisance, but I knew I needed to get out, at least for a short time. I rapidly dried my hair, letting the strands fall loosely over my shoulders, before applying moisturizer to my face.
Sighing, I perched on the edge of my bed and put on my boots. The notion of going out drained me, but I had promised Anup that I would take care of myself. And perhaps, just maybe, venturing out into the world might help me feel a bit less lost.
I took up my phone and hurriedly texted my father, "I'm going to the doctor. Will let you know when I come back."
As I stepped outside, the cool Manali air hit me right away. The streets were blanketed with a soft layer of snow, and the afternoon was silent save for the odd crunch of footfall on ice. The towering mountains stood in silent majesty, their peaks powdered with white as if gazing over the town beneath. The air smelled of pine and burning wood from distant chimneys, a scent that had previously comforted me but now only served to remind me of how much had changed.
The treachery was still fresh in my thoughts. Vedant had broken my trust and manipulated my emotions as if they were meaningless. Every recollection of him now felt like a terrible joke, a ruse that had crumbled the moment I found the truth. No matter how beautiful the world around me appeared, I couldn't get rid of the bitterness that had settled deep inside me.
I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I scarcely knew I had arrived at the hospital. The skyscraper loomed before me, a dramatic contrast to the gorgeous scenery. As I stepped inside, the subtle fragrance of disinfectant and medicine filled the air, and the warmth immediately enveloped me after the stinging cold outdoors. The waiting area was full of individuals, some of them appeared frightened, others tired. Nurses hurried swiftly, their gentle voices mixing with the occasional beeping of devices. I took a deep breath and stepped up to the reception area, bracing myself for another grueling day.
As I approached the reception desk, I felt myself hesitant for a second. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with neatly tied hair and thin-rimmed glasses, looked up from her computer screen and smiled politely.
"Good morning. How can I help you?" the receptionist said in a friendly yet professional tone.
I cleared my throat, still feeling exhausted. "I have an appointment with Dr. Mehra," I explained, sliding my hands into the sleeves of my sweater for warmth.
The receptionist nodded and swiftly checked the computer. "Your name, please?"
"Harshita Gupta."
The woman pressed a few keys and then looked up. "Ah, yes. Your appointment is scheduled for fifteen minutes. Please take your seat in the waiting room. The doctor will call you shortly."
I nodded and said a gentle "Thank you," before turning away. As I proceeded near the rows of chairs, I could feel the tiredness creep back in. The stench of disinfection lingered in the air, and the faint hum of discussions from other patients filled the room. I sighed and sank into one of the empty chairs, my head still clouded with feelings of betrayal and sorrow.
"Harshita, please come in," the receptionist said.
I sat in the doctor's office, my fingers entwined in my lap, trying to control the uneasy flutter in my chest. Dr. Anjali Kapoor, a woman in her mid-40s with gentle eyes and a controlled manner, flipped through my documents before smiling reassuringly.
"You mentioned nausea, fatigue, and loss of appetite," Dr. Kapoor replied kindly. "Before we assume it's just stress, I'd like to rule out a few possibilities, including a pregnancy test."
My breath caught. The words felt like a slap, quickening my heartbeat. Pregnancy? No. That would be impossible. Could it?
"I...I don't think so," I said, shaking my head. "I don't know. I haven't been tracking my period."
Dr. Kapoor's expression remained neutral, professional, and understanding. "That's okay. Stress can occasionally produce anomalies, but we must always confirm. I'll get a urine test first, then if necessary, a blood test for more precision."
I felt my stomach turn, not from nausea, but from the weight of uncertainty falling on me. For three months, I'd been drowning in Vedant's betrayal. Now the prospect of bearing his child sent me into a tailspin.
"Harshita, take a deep breath," Dr. Kapoor advised quietly, sensing my anxiety. "Whatever the outcome is, you are not alone. We'll figure it out together."
I gulped hard and nodded. I had come into the hospital anticipating a routine check-up. Instead, I found myself waiting for a response that may change everything.
After my checkup, the doctor instructed me to wait outside. I sat in the little consulting room, my hands grasping the edges of my sweatshirt while waiting. The seconds passed painfully slowly, my pulse hammering so loudly that I could hardly hear the faint buzz of conversation outside. The door opened, and Dr. Kapoor entered, holding a file. Her expression was serene, yet unreadable. My fingers squeezed against the fabric of my sleeve.
Dr. Kapoor sat across from her, exhaling quietly. "Harshita," she began, her voice soft but stern, "the test results are back."
I held my breath as my gut twisted into a painful knot.
"You're pregnant."
The words hit me like a wave, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I blinked and looked at the doctor as if I had misheard.
"No," I muttered. My voice was raspy and hardly heard. "That is not possible..." I—"
Dr. Kapoor extended a soothing hand, but I flinched, pushing my fingers to my temples as my mind raced.
"I understand this might be overwhelming," Dr. Kapoor replied softly. "But I need you to take a deep breath."
My chest heaved and sank with irregular gasps. This could not be real. Not after what Vedant has done to me. Not after the humiliation and treachery. How could fate be thus cruel?
Dr. Kapoor said, "You are currently about ten weeks along. It's late, but do you have options? Whatever you decide, I want you to know that you do not have to go through this alone."
I took out a shaky breath, my eyes blurring with unshed tears. A life inside me, Vedant's, and my kid. A wave of nausea hit me, but this time it wasn't simply physical—it was the weight of an impossible choice, weighing down on me like the cold Manali snow.