And then... my eyes shifted lower.

To the small, barely-there swell of her belly beneath the blanket. My heart clenched, the weight of Dev's words earlier still echoing in my mind like a warning I couldn't silence.

"Arjun... with all that trauma, the fact that she's survived this far is nothing short of a miracle. But you need to understand—the month she's in, it's critical. Her vitals are stable for now, but a single complication, a strain, an infection, anything could take that child from her. From you. We're walking on glass."

I remembered nodding, swallowing my panic, telling Dev I understood. But nothing—nothing—could've prepared me for the sight of her lying there like this, the baby's presence soft but real, and my heart thundering like it already belonged to both of them.

I sat beside her, not too close, just enough to see her fully. To feel her presence.

She didn't wake. And I didn't expect her to.

This had become our ritual, mine and the little life nestled inside her.

I placed a hand lightly on the edge of the blanket near her stomach, careful not to touch her but close enough to feel connected. Then, as I had done every night since I found her, I whispered.

"Hey, little one,"