Home Moral Stories I was tired from the pain, holding my husband’s hand as my...

I was tired from the pain, holding my husband’s hand as my eyes filled with tears. As the stretcher moved into the delivery room, I saw a familiar face in the hallway.

Being pregnant for the first time at 29, I went through every emotion of a woman about to be a mother: anticipation, nervousness, and joy. During nine months, I was surrounded by love from my husband and family, yet I could not stop enduring countless sleepless nights, haunted by a figure from my past.

That figure was Arjun, my first love that lasted five years but ended abruptly with just a brief goodbye. He vanished from my life without explanation, leaving behind a hollow pain inside my heart.

It took many years to heal before I opened myself to welcome the love of my husband Rohit. Yet, deep within, the question “Why did you leave that day?” remained a needle lodged in my soul, impossible to remove.

On the day I was admitted to a hospital in Mumbai to deliver, the rain poured heavily. The contractions made me exhausted, hurting and fearful. I squeezed Rohit’s hand firmly, though sweat and tears blurred my vision. As the nurse wheeled the stretcher toward the delivery room, I suddenly caught a familiar profile in the hallway. My heart skipped. It was Arjun. After countless years, I encountered him again in this fragile space between life and death.

He wore a white coat, the hurried expression of a doctor on call. I thought it was a hallucination from pain, but when his gaze locked with mine, the disbelief was obvious. He gave a quick bow, then followed the team into the delivery ward. At that instant, I understood: destiny had brought me back to face a truth hidden away for so long.

The contractions intensified. Amid the monitor’s steady beeps and the nurse’s urging tone, I heard Arjun whisper:

– Stay strong, you will make it.

Just a simple line, but it dragged me back years ago. He once held my hand before a major exam and said, “You can make it.” Tears spilled, stirred by both the agony and the memory.

At last, my daughter cried out for the first time. As she was laid against my chest, I glimpsed Arjun silently brushing sweat from his brow, his eyes glowing with joy mixed with unspoken sorrow.

Later, while I rested, Rohit and his family stepped out for paperwork. Arjun approached and said with a trembling tone:

– I owe you the truth.

I remained silent, just looking. I had been waiting to hear those words for years. He explained that the day he intended to propose, he discovered his mother was gravely ill. To raise funds for treatment, he was forced into an arranged marriage with the daughter of a wealthy family in Delhi who could support them. He left in silence, fearing if he explained, I would refuse to let him go.

– I know I was a coward. But at that time, I thought if you hated me, it would help you forget rather than wait. – Arjun confessed, tears streaming.

Listening, I felt tears sting. For so long I blamed him for cruelty, but behind it was tragedy. Glancing at my newborn sleeping peacefully in the cradle, a strange calm filled me. I once imagined if I met him again, I would scream, cry, and demand answers. Yet now, after surviving childbirth, standing between life and d3ath, I discovered the strength to forgive.

– You owe me nothing anymore. I have a family, I have joy. I only wish you peace as well.

– I whispered.

Arjun nodded, smiling faintly. No more words were required, because the past truly ended there.

Now, with my daughter over a year old, I still recall that day clearly. It was not only the instant I became a mother, but also the instant I grew up: I learned endurance, forgiveness, and the value of living in the present.

I realized that a mother’s journey is not only the happiness of welcoming a child, but also a passage through many emotions – the ache of the past, the strain of the present. Yet it was the baby inside me who gave me power to rise above all.

Meeting Arjun again taught me something: some loves do not end due to fading feelings, but due to destiny. The essential thing is not resentment, but letting go, finding peace, and continuing forward.

Today, holding my little girl, I silently thank fate. Thank you for letting me see him once more, learn the truth, and finish an unfinished story. And thank you for gifting me a complete home, where I discovered the meaning of simple yet profound happiness.