something in Dev demeanor shifted and he finally spoke, his voice was low. Measured.

She's stable... for now.

he sighs, glances at him, then away
But Arjun... it's a very fragile kind of stable.

Her vitals shift easily. Her body is weak, her sleep cycle is erratic. And the pregnancy—she's crossed into a phase where any stress, physical or emotional, could trigger early labor or worse.

Arjun was silent, jaw tight, voice calm but heavy.
She will be okay, right?

Dev pauses,
I think... she's walking a thin line. And she's already endured so much trauma that her body doesn't know how to rest. That's dangerous. For her and the baby.

She's trying to be okay—so much—that she's swallowing her pain. She's carrying everything quietly. And you know what that does to a person

.

.

.

“I’m gonna tell Daadu… and Daaadi!” she declared with theatrical flair, hands on her hips like a mini judge.

Arjun’s face lost all colour. His mother. His mother. She would beat his ass. And possibly give him a lecture about raising kids in smoke-free environments for good measure.

Diya tilted her head in mock curiosity. “Then Dadi will—” she paused dramatically, looked over both shoulders like a spy, leaned close to Arjun’s ear and whispered, “—beat your ass.”

Dev snorted, completely losing it.

“Oyee!” Arjun exclaimed, scandalized, his ears turning red. “Where did you learn that line, hmm? Who’s teaching my innocent little princess this?”