Chapter 10: Birth and Betrayal

On delivery day, a lady doctor told me I could be present for the birth. She hoped I’d see how hard it was. Honestly, I hated her for it—who wants to watch such things?

Priya, thankfully, refused. “Doctor, better not let my husband in. I don’t want him to see me like that.”

I nodded, relief washing over me.

Soon after, Priya was wheeled in. Her screams echoed down the corridor. Her parents sobbed, holding each other. I sat apart, feeling nothing except a vague annoyance. She insisted on a normal delivery, no anaesthesia—her pain, her choice, I thought.

But I knew I had to play the part, so I forced out a few tears.

My phone buzzed. It was Neha:

[Your wife is giving birth. Are you feeling sorry for her?]

I replied, [For her, nothing. If it was you, it would be like a thousand arrows in my heart.]

She responded quickly:

[I’m in the hospital parking. Want to come down?]

I hesitated. My wife was giving birth, my in-laws beside me—leaving now would cross a line. As I wavered, Neha sent another message:

[I’ll wait five minutes. If you don’t come, I’ll go.]

I gritted my teeth and stood. Heat rose in my cheeks, shame prickling my skin. Still, my hunger for Neha was stronger. I picked up my bag, slipped on my Bata shoes, and left the waiting room without a word, telling myself this was just another urgent call from the office. As the lift doors closed and the newborns’ cries faded, my phone buzzed again—a single word from Neha: "Hurry." And for the first time, I wondered if I was running toward her, or away from myself.