His Replaced Bride

👣 The First Kick

It was a calm Sunday afternoon.

The kind where the fan hummed lazily, birds chirped outside, and the world slowed down just enough to breathe.

Dakshita lay on the bed, a book resting on her baby bump, and Akshit sat at the edge of the mattress—quietly sketching her in his little black notebook. Again.

She looked up and smiled. “That’s the fourth time you’re drawing me today.”

“You keep changing expressions,” he replied softly. “And I like remembering all of them.”

Her heart did a little flip. As always.

---

She sighed and stretched slightly. “I think they’re asleep.”

“Who?”

“The baby.”

He tilted his head. “They’re not even born yet, and you say they like you already.”

“Of course they do. I’m the one feeding them mangoes and singing old songs.”

Akshit set down his sketchbook. Then, on impulse, leaned forward and gently rested his ear on her bump.

“Hello,” he whispered. “I’m Akshit. Your father.”

Dakshita smiled fondly and combed her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know what kind of person you’ll be,” he continued. “But I hope you like books. And birds. And your mother’s laugh.”

Then—kick!

Akshit blinked. “Did you just—?”

Dakshita gasped, sitting up slightly. “Did you feel that?!”

He looked stunned. “I… was just talking…”

“Say something again!”

He hesitated. Then leaned close again.

“Hi, again. I’m sorry if I was too loud—”

Kick!

He flinched.

Dakshita giggled. “Oh my god, they like your voice!”

Akshit looked bewildered, wide-eyed. “But I thought I sounded too monotone…”

She cupped his face, laughing. “Clearly, someone disagrees.”

---

From that moment on, it became their thing.

Whenever Akshit spoke near her belly, the baby would kick—softly, playfully, like a little high-five from inside.

When he described his drawings? Kick.

When he read them a line from her favorite poem? Kick.

When he whispered, “I love you, little bean”? Big kick.

He once paused and muttered, “Are they already judging my grammar?”

Dakshita was in tears laughing.

---

That night, as they lay under the dim yellow light, her head on his chest, Akshit gently placed his palm over her stomach again.

“I don’t understand how someone so tiny can already feel like my whole world.”

She whispered, “That’s because they’re ours. A little piece of you and me.”

He kissed her forehead and said, with full heart and trembling voice,

“I haven’t even met them… but I already love them more than anything I’ve ever known.”