The marriage of Vivek and Kajal had only just crossed its one-month milestone, a season of honeymoon bliss that stood in stark contrast to the storm brewing in the Singh household. Avni was four months pregnant, a time that should have been defined by a "glow," but instead felt like being under house arrest.
It was their first anniversary—a date Avni had envisioned celebrating on a sun-drenched beach or a vibrant city getaway. Instead, she found herself pacing the confines of their living room, trapped by the walls of Divyansh’s "paternal panic." His transition from a fun-loving husband to an overbearing guardian had been overnight and absolute. He refused to let her travel, citing every possible tectonic or atmospheric risk, until Avni felt less like a wife and more like a fragile piece of cargo.
The tension followed them into the bedroom. At night, the silence was heavy. When Avni sought the comfort of physical closeness, Divyansh pulled away as if she were made of spun glass. "It might hurt the baby," he would whisper, his eyes wide with a clinical, paralyzing fear.
Exasperated and feeling rejected, Avni finally snapped. She retreated into a cold, stony silence that lasted for days, a "quiet treatment" that drove the high-strung Divyansh to the brink of insanity.
"Avni, please, just talk to me," he pleaded one evening, hovering at the edge of the sofa like a scolded puppy.
"I don't want to talk, Divyansh," she snapped, finally breaking the dam. "Have you looked at yourself lately? I know you're worried about the baby, but there is a borderline between 'caring' and 'madness,' and you’ve crossed it miles back."
She gestured wildly at their surroundings. "You’ve baby-proofed the entire house when the child won't even crawl for a year! The closets are bursting with toys and clothes we don’t need yet. And that stroller?" She pointed to the massive, high-tech contraption in the corner. "It’s a monstrosity. I won’t let my child go anywhere in that—it looks like a walking incubator! I’m serious, Divyansh. If you don't stop treating me like a patient instead of a person, I’m leaving this house right now."
"No, no, Avni, please don't say that!" Divyansh’s voice cracked. "I’m just trying to protect everything. I’m trying to protect you."
"Then protect me from that stroller," she countered, her voice softening but remaining firm. "You need to understand something. The doctor said intimacy is safe, but every time I come near you, you recoil like I'm a porcelain doll. I crave you, Divyansh. You’re always asking about food cravings—I don't want mangoes or pickles. I want my husband. I want the man I married, not this stranger who only sees me as a vessel for a baby."
Tears began to spill over as her frustration turned to grief. "I want the old Divyansh back. The one with the dimples, the free spirit who was a little immature and a lot of fun. I married a man, not a pregnancy manual."
Divyansh stood frozen, the weight of her words finally sinking through his layer of anxiety. He sat down slowly, his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Jaana," he whispered, using the pet name that finally made her look at him. "But this baby... you... you’re my whole responsibility now. I’m terrified of doing one wrong thing that ruins everything. What if I can’t be a good dad? What if our kid thinks I’m too immature to respect? I want to touch you, I want to be close to you, but I’m so paralyzed by the thought of a complication that I can't breathe."
Avni’s anger evaporated. She reached out, taking his hand and pulling him closer until she could kiss his cheek. "I’m terrified too," she admitted. "It’s the first time for both of us. But a 'good dad' isn't someone who buys the safest stroller in the world. It’s the man who makes his kids laugh. Our child will love a fun father far more than a careful one. So please, just chill. Nothing is going to break."
A small, genuine smile finally tugged at his lips. "And as for the other thing," Avni added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "it’s our anniversary. The books say pregnancy hormones can make things... intense. If you say no to me tonight, I’m filing for divorce."
Divyansh chuckled, the first real sound of joy in weeks. "I never imagined I’d see you this persistent, Jaana."
"Blame the hormones," she whispered, leaning in. "Now, as you say..."
"As you say," he murmured back, finally closing the distance between them.
The following weeks saw a shift. A humbled Divyansh began clearing out the clutter, donating half the unnecessary baby gear to their friends Rishab and Kritika. He even tried to foist the "incubator" stroller onto them, but they laughed him off, claiming it looked like a "weird alien spaceship."
By the sixth month, the peace was settled, even as Avni’s bump grew significantly. Divyansh had found a new ritual: every night, once Avni fell asleep, he would whisper stories to her belly, promising the kid a life of adventure.
The revelation came during a routine sonography. The doctor stared at the screen for a long beat, her expression unreadable.
"Is something wrong?" Avni asked, her heart hammering.
"Everything is healthy," the doctor said, turning the monitor toward them. "But there’s something we should have spotted sooner. Mr. and Mrs. Singh... it looks like you’re having twins."
The room went silent. Avni looked at the screen, then at Divyansh. She was overwhelmed—one baby was a challenge, but two? Yet, looking at Divyansh, she saw a look of pure, unadulterated triumph.
When they shared the news with the family, the house erupted. Divyansh leaned over to Vivek, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear, "Tell the others: two at once. Try to beat that score."
Vivek rolled his eyes. "Rascal," he muttered, though he was beaming.
However, the reality of twins brought new terrors for Avni. She began watching delivery videos that left her shaken. "How am I supposed to do this twice?" she wailed one afternoon.
"Look on the bright side," Divyansh joked, trying to lighten the mood. "You don't have to get pregnant twice to get two kids. Efficiency!"
Avni glared at him, a bowl of fruit in her lap. "You think this is a joke? Once this is over, you are getting a vasectomy. Am I clear?"
"Crystal clear, ma'am," he said, immediately dropping to the floor to massage her swollen feet. "Now, please, just finish your fruit."
Even Avni's brother, Avyansh, joined the frenzy. He took it upon himself to "baby-proof" Avni’s office at work, padding the corners of her desk and installing safety latches on cabinets she hadn't opened in years.
"Avyansh, I am not bringing newborns to a board meeting," Avni sighed, watching him work.
"You never know, Di!" he replied cheerfully. "Preparation is key!"
Between her husband’s lingering anxieties and her brother’s DIY projects, Avni was perpetually irritated. To make matters worse, the "incubator" stroller was now officially useless—it was a single, and the company refused to take it back.
But as they sat together that evening, navigating the chaos of a house filled with too many supplies and not enough space, they shared a quiet look of anticipation. The obstacles were many, and the "paternal panic" would likely never fully vanish, but they were ready to meet their double miracle.
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