A month passed and Mahjabeen's due date approached, she was in extreme pain, her legs were swollen and it was hard to walk even a few steps. Her belly had now restricted her view of her foot, it seemed as if she was having twins but she wasn't. Her pregnancy was just more pronounced, Mahjabeen had wanted kids before but now she realised how hard it was be a mother. She wasn't even fully a mother yet but the little human had always reminded her of its presence by kicking. It was extremely active, and that tired her out.

"Ya Allah! Ye paida bhi nahi hua aur isne mujhe abhi se hairan kardiya hai", she complaint as she groaned, her back aching, "Isse halki toh meri Maths ki kitaabein thi, mai khudka wazan nahi utha pa rahi. Chalna mushkil kardiya hai isne".

She was frustrated, she wanted to go out but Murtasim was in the other room and she was extremely bored. She hissed as her legs trembled and she realised she had to visit the loo before the hall.

Her stomach clenched making her shriek, hysteria kicked in as she felt a damp sensation on her thigh. Her pants were wet, she had peed on the floor.

A sob escaped her throat, as she felt the shame, the ache in her heart, the helplessness. Her eyes let out tears as she cried, why?

This was the second time, and she felt the shame rise as she knew she couldn't clean it herself. Still she walked to the bathroom carried a bucket after cleaning herself and moped the floor. Disinfecting it, she switched the fan to high speed as she poured the floor cleaner, its smell triggering her nausea. She looked at the clean floor and held in her vomit, running to the washroom. As she vomitted to her guts content she couldn't help but say, "I feel disgusting".

Murtasim entered the room to find her drying her hair, she glanced at him and burst into tears. He ran to her and enveloped her in a tight hug, " Kya hua Maho?"

He asked softly as she cried and holding his arm. She was embarrassed, disgusted and tired. She had heard pregnant woman were supposed to be happy, then why was she not. She hated the feeling, the pain, the helplessness and the hormones were messing with her.

"Mai khush nahi hu", she confessed as she sobbed.

Murtasim sighed, " Haan I can see that, why are you so upset?"

She cried and Murtasim couldn't help but hold her to his chest her cries affecting him, "Ayee stop crying".

She didn't, her tears rolled down her cheeks as she sobbed.

" Mahjabeen", he said in a steely tone, giving her the eye. She looked at his eyes, as he gazed at her with authority. The same eyes that frightened her before, it didn't scare her but distracted her.

He took her hand and rubbed them, not breaking eye contact as he wiped away the tear. 

"You won't cry anymore, okay?" He asked firmly, she utter a weak yes.

He poured water for her in a glass, and forwarded it to her. Seeing the glass of water her shame came back as she glanced at the sparkling floor.

"No! I won't", she denied shaking her head, as the humiliation came back. Her lips pursed up as she controlled the tears, that were coming back her vision clouding with tears as she stared at the floor.

"Mahjabeen you have to drink water", he said as she brought the glass closer to her mouth.

"I can't... I can't Murtasim", she said as she pushed the glass gently, he placed it on the table and kneeled on the floor so he could be face to face with the baby bump. Mahjabeen was wearing a a white frock with floral print that ended just below her knees. Her hair was disheveled, her face red as her husband gave up.

He placed his hand on the bump gently, "hey... why is your mother upset? Did you do anything? " he asked in a stern voice, Mahjabeen was taking in the absurd exchange felt a kick. Her stomach moved, Murtasim laughed as he patted it softly.

"Stop troubling your mother", he scolded with a smile making Mahjabeen giggle. He placed his ear on her bump and whispered Something, Mahjabeen knitted her brows.

" What? Ohh but Mama can't drink water.", he said with a solemn expression, Mahjabeen asked him, "What are you doing?"

He glanced at her and answer in a obvious tone, "I am talking to the baby".

Mahjabeen gave an incredulous laugh, " How can you talk to baby?" Laughing at the ridiculousness.

"Mahjabeen has no one ever told you...that father's can talk to their babies   before they are even born", he lied smoothly as he gazed at her witnessing her change of expression.

"Can they?" She asked lost thinking back to when she would wake up to find Murtasim talking to her baby bump, she would dismiss it as him being a bawla but she realised she was bawli.

"Then why did Maa Begum told me that, nobody ever revealed that to me", she said feeling betrayed for a second, she was the one carrying the baby and Murtasim got to speak to it first.

" Ya Khudaya ye theek nahi kiya aapne", she complaint, "na insafi hai sar a sar na insafi h".

Murtasim held her hand and said, "Accha ek kam karta hu mai tumhe bhi bataunga hum kya baatein karte", he said trying to appease his sad wife.

" promise?"

"Pakka wala", he said making her smile, she wiped her tears and asked, " Abhi kya baat chal ri thi?"

"Woh..." He trailed off.

"Bataye na"

"Usko pyaas lagi hai", he said her eyes widened as she face palmed, " Ya Allah kaisi Maa banungi mai, sorry", she said to the baby and took the glass of water gulping it down.

As Mahjabeen sipped the water, she couldn't help but feel a slight relief from the physical discomfort. Murtasim watched her with a tender smile, his hand still resting on her baby bump.

"You see, it's not so bad," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "You're doing great, Maho."

She managed a weak smile, feeling grateful for his support. "Thank you, Murtasim. I don't know what I would do without you."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "You don't have to do it alone. We're in this together, remember?"

Mahjabeen nodded, feeling a renewed sense of strength. With Murtasim by her side, she knew she could face whatever challenges pregnancy brought her way.

They sat together for a while, talking to the baby bump, sharing their hopes and dreams for their soon-to-arrive little one. It was a moment of connection and bonding that eased Mahjabeen's earlier frustrations and fears.

As the evening went on, Mahjabeen's contractions began to intensify. Murtasim helped her through each one, offering words of encouragement and holding her hand tightly. They had prepared for this moment, attending childbirth classes together, and Murtasim had learned how to be her rock during labor.

Hours passed, and finally, the time came when they needed to rush to the hospital. Mahjabeen was in pain, but she clung to Murtasim's support, knowing that they were about to welcome their baby into the world.

At the hospital, surrounded by medical professionals, Mahjabeen went through the exhausting and painful process of labor. Murtasim was there every step of the way, offering his strength and love. And when their baby was finally born, the exhaustion and discomfort seemed to melt away as they held their precious child in their arms.

As Mahjabeen laid eyes on her newborn baby girl for the first time, her heart swelled with a mixture of emotions. Time seemed to stand still as she gazed at the tiny, fragile face cradled in her arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she realized that this was her child, her flesh and blood. She delicately caressed the baby's head, overwhelmed by the profound love that welled up within her.

"Mera baccha," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. The baby cried in response, a sound that was both heartwarming and reassuring.

Murtasim, his eyes also filled with tears of joy, approached Mahjabeen and their precious daughter. He leaned in and kissed Mahjabeen's head, his love and pride for her shining in his eyes. The room was filled with an atmosphere of happiness and wonder.

However, the joyous moment was interrupted by the medical staff tending to Mahjabeen's well-being. Her bleeding had increased, and it was clear that she needed immediate attention. The nurse ushered Murtasim out of the room to ensure they could focus on Mahjabeen's recovery.

Mahjabeen's consciousness began to fade as her body fought to recover from the rigors of childbirth. She clung to her daughter for as long as she could, whispering a name with the last of her strength.

"Mahrosh," she breathed, a promise and a blessing for her newborn daughter. Then, with her heart full of love and contentment, she slipped into unconsciousness, trusting that the medical team would care for her as her precious daughter, Mahrosh, entered the world.

______

Mahrosh meaning is "Piece Of Moon, Pleasant".