It was an arranged marriage, decided by our parents. And like two obedient children, we had said “yes”.

I agreed, with hopes, that over time she’d start loving me. I was waiting for that time to come. But it never did.

After two years, we mutually decided to expand our family. “Maybe she will love me now,” I thought. But she was the same. She was a good wife, never giving me a chance to complain. But she never expressed her love. There were times I felt low when I wanted to run away, but there was something in her which didn’t let me. 

Yes, I had fallen in love with her. With each passing day, I had fallen for her simplicity.
Our dreams of having a child had come true. I rushed her to the hospital when her water broke. Patiently, I waited outside the labour room, my mind imagining my baby, our baby. My hopes were soaring. I expected her to love me after this baby. A rush of happiness ran through me.

But the happiness turned into a feeling of doom as a doctor walked up to me, sombre. Her words sent a shiver down my spine.  “I am sorry Mr. Rish. We were unable to save your child. Your wife is fine. I’m really sorry for your loss. We tried our best, but we failed.” She gave me a sympathetic pat on my shoulder; her grave demeanour terrified me further. The tide of happiness ebbed and I was thrust into the ocean of seclusion, again.

Days passed. One day, I observed her closely. She sat silent and still like a statue. I went near her and saw her face, it reflected grief. I was going through the same pain, I was just trying to be strong for her.  All of a sudden, she hugged me tight and cried. I cried with her. We grieved together.

“Our baby, our baby didn’t get a chance Rish.” She sobbed.  I hugged her tight. I didn’t have words which could reduce the pain. What should I say? The warmth of her hug was my only solace. We cried out our grief and drifted off to sleep. That night, for the first time, she slept in my arms.

That was the biggest loss we could ever go through. But we went through it, together. We became each other’s pillars of support. There were times she’d cry out loud; times when I mourned. But she started sharing her thoughts with me. 

And one of those days, my wife, my Nivedita came and hugged me tight when I came home from work. “I love you Rish. I love you. I’m lucky to have a husband like you. Had it been someone else, he would have put the blame on me. But you supported and gave me all your love. I love you.”  That’s all she said. And we both cried. 

I found my day of love; I found the answer to my prayers, my wife’s love.