Chapter 1: The Line I Can’t Cross

I always knew my aukaat in Arjun’s world—the invisible line in a Mumbai family’s drawing-room, what’s allowed and what isn’t. The city teaches you not to expect too much.

But sometimes, one silly mistake is all it takes for fate to turn everything upside down. Now, I was carrying his child. The bathroom tiles felt cold under my feet as I stared at the two pink lines, wishing I could just disappear into the wall.

Trying to hint at it, I asked him, "If you ever had an illegitimate child, what would you do?"

He barely blinked, sipping his evening chai, as if my question was just another line from a TV serial. "Aisa kuch kabhi hoga hi nahi, samjhi?"

"But what if it did?"

He pinched my cheek, flicking away imaginary dust with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Mother and child would both disappear. Pagli, I really don’t like these ‘what if’ questions."

The way he said it, you’d think he was teasing, but I could feel the weight behind his words. For Arjun, such things were never just a joke.

My vision blurred. I wiped my eyes quickly—no one in this house cries where others can see. I realised I’d have to deal with this myself, and no one could know.

The fan overhead suddenly seemed louder, spinning uselessly as my thoughts raced. In that moment, I understood: in this city, there are some secrets you just have to swallow, no matter how bitter.

The next day, Arjun was fiddling with my phone, his face dark.

I could sense the tension even before he said a word—the way he gripped my old Samsung, as if he was scrolling through a thousand WhatsApp forwards but finding only one thing he didn’t want to see.

He pinched my chin, his voice terrifyingly gentle: "Tell me, what’s this abortion appointment about?"

His words felt like an icy slap. Mumbai heat outside, but in the flat, it was freezing.

"You’re pregnant, aren’t you?"

He stared at me, waiting. Outside, the pigeon cooed again—like it knew a secret I couldn’t say out loud.