Inside the hospital room, the steady beeping of machines echoed faintly, a sound that seemed to intensify the silence rather than break it. 

From beyond the closed door, the muffled footsteps of nurses and the occasional distant chatter of hospital staff could be heard, but within these four walls, time itself felt suspended.

At the far end of the room sat India's leading obstetrician-gynecologist, her sharp eyes hidden momentarily behind the thin frames of her glasses. 

A stack of reports lay in front of her, and though she had read them several times already, she was poring over them once more, her forehead creased in thought. 

Her silence only deepened the tension that hung in the air.

Across from her, seated on the other side of the polished desk, were the Rathores—the power couple known for their composure, their influence, and their aura of untouchable perfection.

 But in this moment, stripped of their armor of power and prestige, they were nothing more than a husband and wife, trembling under the weight of uncertainty.

___________________

Aditi's slender fingers clung tightly to Advait's arm, her nails almost digging into the fabric of his suit sleeve as though his presence alone was the thread holding her together. 

Her legs shook beneath her chair, betraying the storm of nerves she tried to suppress.

 Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes, usually steady and full of confidence, flickered with fear. 

Every second the doctor remained silent felt like an eternity.

Advait, in stark contrast, wore the mask he had perfected over the years—a cold, composed expression that revealed nothing.

 His tall frame leaned back slightly, his posture exuding the same control that had built his empire. 

Yet behind that icy exterior, his heart was pounding no less violently than hers. 

The calmness was an illusion, one he maintained for her sake, even as dread clawed at his insides.

Their eyes remained fixed on the doctor, waiting, hoping, silently pleading for even the smallest glimmer of good news. 

Instead, the sound that broke the stillness was the soft thud of the doctor setting the file aside.

 She removed her glasses, folding them carefully, and rested her hands on the desk.

 Her gaze softened, and in that instant, Aditi and Advait both knew the words were not the ones they wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry," the doctor said gently, her voice steady but tinged with compassion. 

"We tried our best... but it's still not happening."

The weight of her words crashed over them like a tidal wave. 

Advait closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as he tried to summon every ounce of strength to remain unshaken. 

Beside him, Aditi's world shattered. 

Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision, and she instinctively covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. 

Her shoulders trembled, her chest tightening as though the air itself had abandoned her lungs.

Sensing her collapse, Advait immediately wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to his side, his hold firm yet protective. To the outside world, he remained unflinching, but only she could feel the tension in his body, the silent ache hidden beneath his stillness.

The doctor, her expression weighed down by the helplessness of a professional who had no answers left to give, continued quietly, "We've attempted every procedure, every treatment option available, but the problem lies with your eggs, Aditi. They're too weak to fertilize. No matter how hard we try, the results remain the same."

 Her words were clinical, but she delivered them with as much gentleness as she could, aware that each sentence was a blade cutting deeper into their hopes.

______________________

Married for three years, Aditi and Advait had long dreamt of extending their family.

 For over a year, they had endured countless consultations, tests, procedures, and nights of anxious waiting. 

Each failed attempt chipped away at their strength, but they had never let go of hope—until now, when even hope felt fragile.

The doctor excused herself softly, leaving the couple in the thick silence of despair. For a moment, neither moved. 

The only sound was Aditi's muffled sobs against her palm and the muted hum of machines outside the room.

Advait rose first. 

He gently coaxed Aditi to stand, his hand firm on her arm as though guiding her through a fog she could no longer navigate on her own.

 Not a word passed between them. He led her out of the hospital and toward the car, his strides purposeful, his expression blank, concealing the storm raging inside.

_________________________

Once seated in the passenger seat, Aditi leaned against the door, her face turned downward, her tears dripping silently onto her lap. 

She sniffled, wiping her cheeks, though the tears kept returning as if mocking her attempts to control them.

 Advait slid into the driver's seat, his hands gripping the wheel, his eyes fixed ahead. His face remained impassive, a perfect mask of composure—but Aditi knew him too well.

She had seen the cracks in that façade before, though only in their most private moments. 

She knew how much he longed for their child, how deeply he yearned for a family of his own—one created with her. 

She knew that beneath his silence was a heartbreak equal to, if not greater than, her own.

And that knowledge broke her even more. 

Because he had given her everything—every wish, every dream, every comfort life could offer.

 He had built worlds for her, shielded her from storms, and loved her with a devotion that was rare and absolute. 

And yet, in the one thing that mattered most to him, she could give him nothing.

Her tears flowed harder, her chest aching with guilt, sorrow, and helplessness. Beside her, Advait drove on, his gaze steady on the road, but his soul silently fractured with hers.

________________

The drive home was suffocatingly quiet. Aditi hadn't spoken a single word since they left the hospital. 

Her fingers trembled in her lap, clutching the edge of her dress until her knuckles turned white, while her tear-streaked face remained turned toward the window.

 Each passing streetlight illuminated her profile for a fleeting moment, and in those glimpses, Advait saw her pain as clearly as the road ahead.

The moment they reached home, Aditi rushed out of the car without waiting for him. 

Her heels echoed sharply against the marble floor as she climbed the stairs two at a time, disappearing into the solitude of their bedroom. 

Advait lingered for a moment at the bottom of the staircase, his tall frame weighed down by a helplessness he rarely allowed himself to feel.

______________________

He sighed heavily, loosening the tie around his neck before making his way into the kitchen.

 He opened the freezer and reached for the tub of chocolate ice cream—her favorite comfort food. 

He remembered how she had once told him that chocolate was her therapy, and though the gesture felt pitifully small in the face of her grief, it was all he could offer in that moment.

______________________

Ice cream in hand, he ascended the stairs slowly. 

When he reached their room, he paused at the door, his heart tightening at the muffled sounds of her sobbing.

 Quietly, he turned the handle and stepped inside.

The sight broke him.

 Aditi was sprawled across the bed, her face buried into a pillow, her shoulders shaking as her sobs tore through the silence. 

The sound of her pain was louder than any machine beep in the hospital, louder than any chaos he had faced in the boardroom. 

This was the one battle he could not conquer with power or wealth.

______________________

And that truth stung more than he cared to admit. He was Advait Rathore—a man who could buy anything, bend markets, conquer industries.

 He was a billionaire who had once literally bought land on the moon just because Aditi, in her playful innocence, had teased him: 

"Can you bring me the moon, Adi?" 

The very next day, she had found property papers with her name on them, because to him, no desire of hers was too great.

 He had given her empires, stars, luxuries beyond imagination. Yet tonight, he had failed miserably. He could not give her the one thing she truly wanted—her own child.

__________________________

Closing the door softly behind him, he walked to the bed and placed the ice cream on the nightstand beside the lamp. 

Then he sat down beside her and gently combed his fingers through her hair. Leaning closer, he whispered, his voice softer than she had ever heard it:

"Hey... don't cry. You know I can't stand seeing your eyes filled with tears, hmm?"

But instead of calming her, his tenderness only made her cry harder. Her sobs deepened, shaking her whole body as though she was unraveling in his presence.

Advait could no longer watch from the sidelines. He pulled her up gently, making her sit before him, and then drew her into his arms. 

She clung to him immediately, wrapping herself around him in a desperate, koala-like hug, burying her wet face against his chest.

 Her entire frame shook with every sob, and he tightened his arms around her, as if holding her tightly enough could absorb her pain.

Her voice cracked as she tried to speak through her sobs. "I-I-I... a-a-am s-s-sorry... p-please... I—"

Before she could finish, he silenced her with a tender kiss to the crown of her head. His hand stroked her back in slow, comforting circles. 

He was just as broken, just as lost, but he swallowed his grief and steadied himself—for her. For them.

"Shh," he murmured against her hair. "It's okay. I don't need a baby... not if it costs me your happiness. As long as I have you, Aditi, that's all I'll ever want."

But she shook her head, clutching him even tighter. "B-but... I know you want a baby. I know how much you do..."

His chest constricted. She was right—he had dreamt of holding their child, a little piece of them both. But he refused to let her drown in guilt. He tilted her chin up with his hand and kissed the damp trails of her tears away.

"You're my baby," he whispered firmly. "I don't need anyone else. Not now, not ever. We'll face this together, hmm? Just you and me."

But Aditi couldn't stop. Her voice broke again, trembling through her sobs. "I-I can't... I can't give you a child... I can't even do that for you..."

His heart shattered at her words. He tightened his embrace, burying his face briefly against her hair. Then, in a voice laced with a rare sternness, he asked, "Do you want a baby that badly?"

She froze at the sudden weight of his tone. Her eyes widened slightly in fear, but after a few moments, she nodded, tears spilling again.

"Then we'll adopt," he said firmly, brushing her hair back from her damp face. "We'll bring a child into this home, give them the life they deserve. They don't need to be born from you to belong to us. We'll love them as our own."

But she shook her head violently, her words tumbling out in broken fragments. "No... no, Advait. I want our baby. A baby with our features, your smile, your habits, your face... our blood. I want to see us in them."

Her voice cracked, and she collapsed into his arms once more, sobbing until her body trembled with exhaustion.

Advait sighed heavily, his hand never stopping its soothing rhythm in her hair. He wanted the same thing—more than anything in the world—but he could not bear to see her break herself apart over it.

 So he held her.

 He held her through her grief, through her tears, through her apologies she didn't need to make.

_________________

The hours slipped by as he tried everything to distract her. He spoon-fed her bites of chocolate ice cream until her sniffles softened.

 He played a horror movie she loved, holding her against him as the screen flickered with shadows. 

He whispered soft reassurances, cracked dry jokes, and kissed her temple every time fresh tears threatened to fall.

________________

And though she laughed weakly at times, though she leaned into his warmth, though they cuddled close beneath the blanket, both of them knew the truth. 

They were pretending—pretending to be strong, pretending to be fine, pretending that their world hadn't fractured a little more that day.

But in that fragile pretense, in their desperate attempt to be each other's strength, they found solace. 

Because at the end of it all, they still had each other. And for tonight, that had to be enough.

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Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! 

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Thank you so much for reading!❤❤