Part 3
For a few seconds, I couldn’t understand what Maya meant.
The words stayed in the air between us.
The cancer isn’t the only thing I’m fighting.
My mind searched for another explanation.
Another possibility.
Something less terrifying.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Maya didn’t answer immediately.
The doctor quietly closed the folder in front of him and gave her a moment.
That small gesture told me everything.
He already knew.
Whatever she was about to say, she had carried it alone for a long time.
“Maya,” I whispered. “Please.”
She looked at me.
And I saw something in her eyes I had never seen before.
Fear.
Not the sadness I knew.
Not the quiet exhaustion.
Fear.
“I’m pregnant.”
The room stopped.
I stared at her.
I honestly thought I had misunderstood.
“What?”
Her fingers tightened around each other.
“I found out after we separated.”
My breathing became shallow.
“You’re…”
I couldn’t finish.
She nodded.
“I’m pregnant.”
I looked at her stomach.
At first, I saw nothing.
Then I noticed the small curve beneath her loose hospital clothing.
Something I should have noticed.
Something I would have noticed if I had actually looked at her.
“How far along?”
“Almost four months.”
Four months.
The number hit me like a physical blow.
She had been pregnant when we signed the divorce papers.
She had been pregnant when she walked away from our marriage.
And I had never known.
“Maya…”
My voice broke.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“Because I didn’t know what I wanted to do.”
I stared at her.
She wiped the tear away quickly.
“I was scared.”
“Scared of me?”
She looked away.
And that answer hurt.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Because I understood.
Not because I had ever hurt her physically.
But because I had hurt her in other ways.
I had made her feel alone.
Unimportant.
Unseen.
“I thought you were relieved when we divorced,” she whispered.
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
I opened my mouth.
But the memories came back.
The relief I felt when the papers were signed.
The way I told myself it was for the best.
The way I packed my things and walked away.
I had never considered what leaving looked like from her side.
Maya continued softly.
“When I found out, I wanted to call you.”
Her hands moved protectively toward her stomach.
“But then I remembered the last conversation we had.”
I remembered too.
Our final argument.
She had cried.
I had been angry.
I said things I wished I could erase.
I told her we were wasting each other’s time.
I told her maybe we were never meant to be parents.
The words came back with painful clarity.
“I was wrong,” I said.
She looked at me.
“I know.”
That surprised me.
“You know?”
She nodded.
“I knew you didn’t mean it.”
That was somehow worse.
Because she still understood me.
Even after everything.
The doctor cleared his throat gently.
“I think you both need to hear the medical situation clearly.”
We turned toward him.
“Maya’s pregnancy is considered high-risk.”
My heart dropped.
“Because of the cancer?”
“Yes.”
He opened the folder.
“Treatment options become more complicated during pregnancy. Some medications carry risks.”
Maya looked down.
“I refused the first treatment plan.”
I stared at her.
“You refused?”
She nodded.
“I needed time.”
“Time?”
She swallowed.
“To decide whether I wanted to fight.”
The anger came before I could stop it.
Not anger at her.
Fear.
“You thought about giving up?”
Her eyes filled.
“Every day.”
The words crushed me.
Because the woman I knew was the strongest person I had ever met.
She handled everything.
Family problems.
Stress.
Pain.
And I never once asked who took care of her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
This time, she didn’t tell me not to say it.
She just looked tired.
The doctor gave us instructions and left the room.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked:
“Does anyone else know?”
“No.”
“Your friends?”
“No.”
“Your coworkers?”
She shook her head.
I looked at her.
“You’ve really been alone through all of this.”
She gave a small smile.
“I got used to it.”
That sentence destroyed something in me.
Because she shouldn’t have gotten used to being alone.
Especially not because of me.
“I want to help.”
She immediately shook her head.
“Arjun.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“Listen to me.”
She looked at me.
“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness.”
Her eyes softened.
“But I’m not asking for that.”
I took a breath.
“I’m asking you to let me be there.”
She looked away.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“You have your own life.”
“I don’t want that life anymore.”
The words surprised both of us.
Because they were true.
The apartment.
The routine.
The empty nights.
I had been calling it freedom.
But it wasn’t.
It was just loneliness with better furniture.
Maya stayed silent.
Then she asked:
“What happens if I don’t make it?”
My chest tightened.
“Don’t say that.”
“Arjun.”
“No.”
My voice cracked.
“You don’t get to decide the ending yet.”
She looked at me.
“You sound different.”
I almost smiled.
“I think I finally understand what I lost.”
Her eyes became wet.
But before either of us could say anything else, the hospital door opened.
A nurse stepped inside.
“Mrs. Sharma?”
“Yes?”
“There’s someone here to see you.”
Maya looked confused.
“Who?”
The nurse checked the clipboard.
“Someone named Rohan.”
Maya froze.
The color disappeared from her face.
I noticed immediately.
“Who is Rohan?”
She didn’t answer.
The nurse looked between us.
“He said it’s urgent.”
Maya’s hands started shaking.
And for the first time since I found her…
She looked truly afraid.
“Maya?”
She whispered one sentence.
A sentence that made my blood run cold.
“Arjun…”
I moved closer.
“What?”
Her eyes filled with panic.
“Rohan is the reason I left you.”
The hallway outside suddenly felt very far away.
Because I realized something.
May you like
The divorce I thought was the end of our story…
Was only the beginning of a truth I had never known.
