Destiny

Last chapter

The crisp scent of freshly mown grass mingled with the sweet aroma of blooming jasmine as Reena shuffled out onto the haveli balcony. The morning sun cast a golden glow over Mumbai, painting the city in a hopeful light. It had been a month since her surgery, and while recovery was slow, a newfound energy crackled beneath the surface.

Rehaan, ever the attentive husband, appeared beside her, a steaming cup of chai in his hand. "Good morning, sunshine," he said, his voice laced with a sleepiness that mirrored her own. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch sending a familiar warmth through her.

Reena accepted the cup with a grateful smile. "Good morning, love."

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, sipping their chai and watching the city slowly come alive. Reena, however, felt a persistent restlessness gnawing at her. It was more than just fatigue; it was a craving, a strange, insistent desire that had been plaguing her for the past few days.

"Rehaan," she began hesitantly, taking a sip of her chai.

"Yes, love?" he responded, his gaze fixed on the bustling street below.

"Do you think it's strange," she started, searching for the right words, "to crave something you haven't had in years?"

Rehaan turned to her, his brow furrowed in concern. "Strange? What are you craving?"

Reena hesitated, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Pickles," she confessed in a whisper, as if admitting to a shameful secret.

Rehaan burst out laughing, the sound washing away the tense silence. "Pickles?" he repeated, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Reena pouted playfully. "Hey, it's not funny! I have a serious craving here."

Rehaan's laughter subsided, replaced by a tender smile. "No, I know, love. It's completely normal." He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. "Pregnancy cravings are a thing, you know."

Reena's eyes widened. "Pregnancy cravings? You think...?"

The doctor's words, a faint echo from a whirlwind of post-surgery grogginess, flooded back – "signs of a very early pregnancy." Could it be true? A flicker of excitement, a cautious hope, bloomed within her.

"Well," Rehaan continued, his voice laced with amusement, "if pickles are your first sign, then maybe you should listen to your body."

Reena's heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and fear. The doctor hadn't mentioned anything about the pregnancy being viable, not after the surgery. But the thought of a tiny miracle growing within her, a testament to life's tenacity, was exhilarating.

"Do you think we should get some pickles?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Rehaan chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Absolutely. We'll find you the best pickles in all of Mumbai. Anything for my pickle-loving wife."

The day that followed became a whirlwind of pickle exploration. Reena, fueled by her insatiable craving, sampled every variety they could find – spicy mango pickles, tangy lime pickles, and even a fiery red chili pickle that had her eyes watering and her taste buds tingling.

Rehaan, ever the patient husband, documented their pickle journey on his phone, capturing Reena's ecstatic expressions with each bite. They laughed, they teased each other, and for a while, the weight of the surgery, the lingering fear, seemed to melt away.

As dusk settled over Mumbai, casting long shadows across the city, they found themselves at a small street vendor selling an array of homemade pickles. Reena, drawn by the intoxicating aroma of spices, zeroed in on a jar filled with green chilies, bobbing in a vibrant green brine.