Birthday Surprise

My heart pounded as I stared at the pregnancy test stick, my breath caught somewhere between hope and fear. The dim glow of the bathroom light flickered over my trembling hands, and outside, I could hear Krish pacing impatiently, his footsteps echoing through the quiet stillness of the early morning.

Three days.

Three days since I missed my period. Three days of holding my breath, of not allowing myself to hope too soon. But now… now, there was no holding back. This moment would decide everything.

“Please, please… just one more line,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, as though the tiny screen held the power to change my fate.

And then—there it was.

A faint second line.

My heart stopped.

It grew darker. Clearer. Undeniable.

A rush of emotion surged through me, overwhelming and electric.

“Yipieeeeeeeeeeeee!” The scream tore out of me as I burst out of the bathroom, flinging myself into Krish’s arms, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s positive! It’s positive!” I chanted breathlessly, my voice breaking with sheer joy.

Krish froze for a fraction of a second—just long enough for the news to sink in—before he let out a wild, triumphant shout.

“WOOOOHOOOOO!”

He lifted me effortlessly, spinning me around in exhilaration, laughter spilling from both of us as tears welled in my eyes. Then, as if unable to contain his emotions any longer, he laid me down onto the bed and claimed my lips in a kiss so deep, so intense, it left me breathless.

When I finally pulled away for air, his eyes burned with something raw, something fierce. And without another word, he shifted lower, pressing his lips to my stomach.

I gasped softly as he lifted my t-shirt, his warm breath sending shivers across my skin. Then—kisses.

Featherlight at first, barely-there caresses. Then deeper, more reverent, more possessive. His lips trailed over my belly with a devotion I had never felt before, lingering over the spot where our child had just begun to grow.

Tears pricked my eyes as I ran my fingers through his hair, my giggles dissolving into soft, choked laughter.

This time…

This time, his kisses weren’t just for me.

This time, he was kissing us.

Heaven knew how much this meant to him. To us. And there was only one person we had to thank for it.

“I can’t wait to tell Armaan,” I murmured, my fingers still lazily running through Krish’s hair as he hovered over my belly.

Krish chuckled against my skin before standing up, stretching his arms with a satisfied grin.

“I don’t know whether he’d be happy or sad to hear that he’s succeeded in his efforts,” he mused, amusement dancing in his eyes.

I frowned, tilting my head. “Why on earth would he not be happy?”

Krish smirked. “Because he wouldn’t get to have sex with you anymore.”

I blinked, processing his words, and then…

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” I teased, a wicked glint in my eyes as I shot him a playful smirk.

Krish’s expression flickered from surprise to shock before transforming into sheer mischief. “You dirty little minx…” he growled.

Before I could react, he lunged, grabbing me by the waist and pinning me beneath him.

“Hey! No—no—no! Hahahaha!” I shrieked as he launched a relentless tickle attack on my ribs. My laughter turned breathless as his fingers danced mercilessly over my skin.

“Krish, stop it—hahahaha—I can’t breathe!” I squealed, writhing beneath him, but he was relentless.

His hands slipped under my t-shirt, finding their way to my belly.

I shrieked as his fingers zeroed in on my most sensitive spot—my navel.

“Hahahahahah!” I thrashed wildly in his arms as he invaded my navel with a teasing flick of his finger, sending electric jolts of unbearable ticklish pleasure shooting through me.

“Stop it—hahaha—you’ll hurt the baby!” I gasped between fits of laughter.

The moment the words left my lips, his hands froze against my stomach.

I wasn’t expecting him to actually stop.

Panting, I pecked his cheek and giggled. “I was just kidding, dumbo. Don’t go all serious on me now.”

But Krish had already switched gears. His playful smirk had softened into something more tender as his hand rested protectively on my stomach.

“No, no. You’re right,” he murmured, as if suddenly realizing the delicate life growing inside me. “We must be careful.” His palm skimmed over my belly gently, like he was handling something precious.

I rolled my eyes with a laugh, pushing myself up from the bed. “Alright, overprotective papa-to-be, I’m gonna call Armaan and tell him the good news.”

“No. Wait.”

I stopped mid-step and turned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

Krish’s eyes gleamed with something wicked. “I have an idea.”

I folded my arms, intrigued. “Oh? Do tell.”

His smirk deepened. “His birthday is the day after tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah… and?”

“So, I was thinking… we break the news on his birthday.”

I laughed. “You think this news is gonna be the best birthday gift for him?”

Krish’s smirk turned even more devilish.

“Umm, no… I’ve got something else in mind.” His voice dropped, thick with mischief. “And you’re gonna love it.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicion laced with curiosity. “Uh-huh… what exactly have you got in mind?”

His grin was pure sin.

And suddenly, I knew—whatever he was planning was going to be wild.

The Evening of Armaan’s Birthday

My mind was in total disarray as I lay sprawled across the dining table, my body trembling, every nerve fiber ablaze with arousal. My skin was heated, my breathing shallow, and the pressure coiling low in my belly had been building for what felt like forever.

An hour.

An hour of pure, exquisite torture.

It was taking everything in me—every ounce of self-control—not to give in, not to let the pleasure rip through me completely.

And then—

Ding-dong.

The sound of the doorbell rang through the house, sending a fresh jolt of anticipation skittering down my spine.

“Looks like our birthday boy has finally arrived,” Krish’s voice drifted to me, thick with amusement.

I whimpered softly as another uncontrollable wave of pleasure pulsed through me, my body betraying me.

“Hang in there, sweetheart,” Krish murmured, his lips grazing my cheek in a fleeting, tender kiss. “I’ll go get him.”

And then, he was gone.

I strained my ears, eavesdropping on the exchange in the hallway, my heart pounding.

The door creaked open.

“Happy Birthday, little brother!” Krish’s voice was warm, teasing.

A softer, hesitant response followed. “Thank you, Bhaiya…”

Though I couldn’t see them, I could picture the moment—Krish pulling Armaan in for a brotherly hug, Armaan grinning, clueless about the real gift waiting for him inside.

“Where’s Bhabhi?” Armaan asked, his tone casual.

“In the kitchen,” Krish replied smoothly. “Waiting for you.”

Armaan chuckled. “Busy preparing food for me, huh?”

“Oh, she’s preparing for you, alright.”

Krish laughed, and something in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

“Just wait till you see what.”

My heart raced.

The sound of their approaching footsteps sent a fresh surge of heat coursing through my veins.

And then—

“Woah… what the—?!”

Armaan’s voice cracked with disbelief the second he stepped into the kitchen.

And honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

Because this—the sight before him—was unlike anything he could have ever imagined.

I lay spread-eagled on the dining table, my naked body displayed like a sinful masterpiece. The only things covering me were two small white towels—one lazily draped over my breasts, the other barely covering the heat between my thighs. My wrists and ankles were bound to the table legs, keeping me completely at their mercy.

A gag covered my lips, muffling my whimper as I met Armaan’s wide, stunned gaze.

His chest rose and fell in rapid breaths.

I watched as realization dawned in his darkening eyes—this was his birthday gift.

And the way his body stiffened in response told me everything I needed to know.

He wanted to unwrap it.

Krish stepped up behind Armaan, slinging an arm casually over his shoulder, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“Like what you see, little brother?” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement.

Armaan barely reacted, his gaze riveted to me—his body tense, his breathing uneven.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. “Why is Bhabhi tied up naked on your dining table?”

Krish chuckled, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Because, birthday boy, the feast for the night is being served on top of her.”

Armaan turned sharply, his expression still caught between shock and something deeper—something darker.

Krish continued, completely unfazed. “I’ve been preparing her for the past hour. Cleaned her up, oiled her from head to toe with warm almond oil… got her perfectly ready for you.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, sleek remote control.

“And this,” he said, pressing it into Armaan’s palm, “is the fun part.”

Armaan frowned, glancing at the device, then back at me. His hesitation was evident, but there was no mistaking the curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Krish smirked. “That remote controls the vibrator I’ve attached inside her. I’ve been edging her for the past hour, keeping her right on the edge—not letting her cum.”

He leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping into something more sinful.

“She’s been suffering, Armaan.”

A soft whimper escaped my gagged lips as my wide, pleading eyes locked onto Armaan’s.

His fingers hovered over the remote’s button.

And then—tentatively—he pressed it.

Instantly, the vibrator sprang to life inside me, sending an electric jolt of unbearable pleasure surging through my body.

I thrashed against my restraints, a muffled moan tearing from my lips as my groin lit on fire.

Armaan inhaled sharply, watching me writhe before him.

Krish laughed. “Told you,” he murmured. “She’s horny as hell.”

“Oh, Bhabhi…” Armaan whispered, his voice thick with hunger, dripping with lust.

The way he said it—low, reverent, possessive—sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

His eyes roamed over every inch of my naked, helpless body, his breath growing heavier, his chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale.

Krish must have sensed the shift in Armaan’s mood because he chuckled and clapped him on the back. “Alright then,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Let’s get started. Strip. Clothes have no place in the dirty dinner we’re about to have.”

Armaan needed no persuasion.

He didn’t even care that his brother was standing right there.

Without hesitation, he shed his clothes, tossing them aside like they were nothing—his eyes never leaving me.

“Whoa, whoa, hungry are we?” Krish teased, laughing.

Armaan shot him a deadly glare.

Krish raised his hands in surrender. “Alright then, sir,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s start our meal with a little wine.”

I watched as Krish uncorked a bottle of red wine that had been sitting on the countertop, his fingers moving with practiced ease.

A heartbeat later, he tilted the bottle over my stomach and poured—

A warm rush of liquid cascaded down my skin before pooling inside my navel.

I gasped at the sensation, my stomach twitching involuntarily at the contrast between the heat of the wine and the cool air surrounding me.

I knew my navel was big and deep enough to hold a mouthful, and God—the thought of what was about to happen sent a fresh jolt of anticipation shooting through me.

“Stop fidgeting, Navya,” Krish scolded, amusement in his tone. “You’ll spill it.”

But it was too late.

I already felt a few rogue drops escaping, rolling slowly along my hips.

Armaan wasted no time.

He lunged, his tongue flicking out to catch the wayward drops before they could slip away.

I shuddered.

His tongue—hot, wet, relentless—traced the path of the runaway wine, following the liquid all the way back to its origin.

And then, with one quick sip, he emptied the pool of wine from my navel, his lips sealing around it, his tongue dipping inside just long enough to make me whimper against the gag.

Armaan groaned, licking his lips as he pulled away.

“Mmm… hands down the best wine I’ve ever had,” he murmured.

“Some more?” Krish asked casually.

Armaan nodded, his eyes dark with hunger.

Krish smirked and tilted the bottle again, but this time, he poured from higher, letting the liquid fall in a thin, teasing stream just below the towel covering my breasts.

The wine flowed downward in warm, glistening rivulets, pooling into my navel once more.

Armaan didn’t wait.

He dove back in, his tongue plunging into my navel, lapping up the wine as it continued to flow, the sensation utterly overwhelming.

I moaned—loudly—against my gag, my body writhing, my senses drowning in the sheer decadence of it all.

Krish kept pouring.

Armaan kept drinking.

By the time Krish finally emptied half the bottle, I was a trembling mess, my stomach slick with the remnants of their indulgence.

Krish let out a satisfied sigh. “Alright,” he said, setting the bottle down. “That’s enough wine.”

He reached for a plate sitting on the counter, lifting it with a smirk.

“Time to eat something.”

Before I could process what he meant, he dumped a pile of French fries onto my belly, spreading them out over my skin, covering nearly every inch of me except the area surrounding my navel.

And then—

Krish grabbed a bottle of tomato sauce and squeezed.

The thick, red liquid filled my navel, coating it, turning it into a makeshift bowl of sinful indulgence.

Krish picked up a fry, dipped it into the pool of sauce in my navel, and popped it into his mouth.

“Mmm…” he groaned dramatically. “Yummy.”

His gaze flicked to Armaan.

“Well?” he said, holding out a fry. “Come on, birthday boy. Dig in.”

Armaan followed suit, and soon, they were taking turns—poking, prodding, teasing—using the fries to explore my navel before hungrily eating them.

I lay there, helpless, needy, utterly wrecked, gasping each time a fry pressed upon my hypersensitive navel knot.

The slow torture was exquisite, every touch, every press sending jolts of pleasure that rippled through my overstimulated body.

But soon, patience ran thin.

Krish and Armaan both grew bolder, greedier—no longer satisfied with one fry at a time, they began inserting multiple fries at once, twisting them inside my navel before devouring them with hungry delight.

I moaned, my body trembling, my core tightening with unbearable need.

Krish must have noticed.

“Want a bite, darling?” he asked, his voice thick with amusement. “Here.”

Before I could respond, he removed my gag and stuffed my mouth with fries.

I chewed and swallowed hurriedly, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I whimpered, pleaded.

“Please… I can’t hold on any longer. Please… end it fast.”

Krish tutted playfully, stroking my cheek.

“No, darling,” he crooned. “Not yet. Hang in there just a few more minutes.”

I whimpered, frustration coiling inside me like a live wire.

“Please… at least remove that vibrator.”

Krish smirked, looking over at Armaan.

“Armaan,” he instructed, his voice smooth as silk, “relieve your Bhabhi of that vibrator, please. And on that note…” he grinned, reaching for the towels that barely covered me. “I think it’s time to get rid of these as well.”

With a flourish, he pulled them away, stripping me bare.

I gasped, my body fully exposed, my nipples peaked with arousal, my thighs trembling as I lay before them—naked, horny, vulnerable.

Armaan’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with something primal, something undeniable.

His gaze devoured me, lingering over my bare breasts before trailing lower.

Then—tentatively—he placed a hand on my stomach.

I shuddered.

His fingers traced downward, slowly, taking his time, drawing soft patterns over my overheated skin before slipping between my thighs.

A choked moan escaped me as he finally, finally removed the vibrator.

Even without it, the ache remained—burning, desperate, consuming.

I writhed beneath them, my body begging for release.

But Krish wasn’t done.

“Who wants some honey?” he asked, his voice laced with excitement.

I forced my eyes open just in time to see him holding up two bottles of golden, glistening honey.

He tossed one to Armaan and smirked.

“We’ll take turns,” he declared. “I’ll take the upper half. You take the lower.”

Oh, God…

I was going to explode.

I watched helplessly as Krish twisted the cap off the bottle, his expression filled with childlike enthusiasm.

Then—

“Get ready for some real pleasure, babe,” he murmured darkly.

And then he poured.

The thick, warm honey drizzled over my nipples, slow and decadent, rolling down my breasts in golden rivers.

At the same time, I felt Armaan doing the same—pouring the thick, sticky sweetness over my most intimate place.

I threw my head back with a moan, my body trembling, my senses on fire.

I barely had time to recover before I felt it—

Two heads descending.

Two mouths claiming me.

And then—

Pleasure unlike anything I had ever known.

A loud, uncontrollable moan tore from my lips as two mouths ravished me at once—Krish hungrily lapping honey off my breasts while Armaan devoured my dripping, aching pussy.

They weren’t satisfied with just tasting me.

They kept pouring—warm, golden honey cascading over my skin, seeping into every dip and curve of my body.

Krish trailed his tongue up my stomach, his mouth claiming every inch of me, and by the time he reached my face, he was licking me—my lips, my cheeks, my jaw—before stealing kisses in between.

Armaan, meanwhile, alternated between my navel and pussy, his tongue plunging deep into my belly button one moment and suckling on my clit the next. The sheer torture of it had me writhing, thrashing, losing myself completely.

Then, somewhere beneath the haze of pleasure, I heard Armaan’s voice.

“My turn now.”

Before I could process what was happening, Krish switched positions, moving lower, and suddenly—

Armaan’s lips were on mine.

It was feral.

A claiming.

A passionate, all-consuming kiss that left me breathless, my body melting under the heat of it.

At the same time, a strong pair of hands gripped my breasts, kneading them, thumbs rolling over my hardened nipples, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through my body. I didn’t even need to open my eyes to know—Armaan had taken over my upper half, while Krish had gone lower.

“Oh, Bhabhi…” Armaan moaned between kisses, his breath warm, heavy against my lips. “You’re… so… delicious.”

I whimpered into his mouth, soaking in the raw lust in his voice.

Then—

He poured honey into my mouth.

The thick, syrupy sweetness coated my tongue, and before I could even react, Armaan’s tongue was there—licking, tasting, stealing the honey straight from my mouth.

It was so hot, so intoxicating, I couldn’t stop the needy croon that slipped from my lips.

Meanwhile, Krish had taken things even further.

He tilted the honey bottle, pouring a generous stream directly onto my pussy before devouring me, licking me clean, his tongue moving in slow, sinful strokes.

I was gone.

Utterly wrecked.

Every nerve fiber in my body was alight with unimaginable pleasure, my senses overwhelmed, my body trembling violently under their relentless touch.

I had never, ever, been so wrecked.

And then—

A shockwave of pleasure detonated inside me, so powerful it ripped through me, so overwhelming my body couldn’t contain it.

I screamed.

And then—

I squirted.

The orgasm tore through me, my body convulsing, liquid pleasure splashing onto Krish’s face as I shattered beneath them.

Krish laughed, delighted.

“Looks like it’s time for the endgame,” he declared. “Come on, quick, untie her.”

His hands immediately moved for my ankle restraints, while Armaan reached up to untie my wrists.

The moment I was free—

I lunged at Armaan.

He was the closest to me, and I didn’t even hesitate—I crashed my lips against his in a wild, untamed kiss, our mouths moving in a feverish frenzy, hands grasping, touching, claiming.

I barely noticed Krish disappearing for a moment—until he returned, holding something large and dark in his hands.

A bowl.

A large bowl.

Full of hot chocolate.

“Time for some dark fantasy, people,” Krish declared, his grin positively wicked as he scooped up a handful of the thick, molten chocolate.

Before I could react, he grabbed me from behind, his hands smearing the chocolate all over my torso, my stomach, my face—painting me in decadence.

I gasped, laughing breathlessly as I scooped up some of my own and slapped it onto Krish’s cheeks.

He groaned in amusement, his grip tightening around me as I twisted in his arms, my body grinding against his, smearing the chocolate between us.

And then—

I licked it off his face.

Slow, teasing licks, my tongue tracing his cheek, his jaw, his lips, as I devoured the sweet mess we had made.

The heat between us was blistering.

We tumbled back onto the floor, me straddling Krish, both of us licking and groping at each other like we were starved.

And then—

Armaan joined in.

A fresh scoop of chocolate in his hands, he knelt behind me, rubbing the warm, sticky sweetness along my back, his hands gliding over my skin, coating me in liquid pleasure.

I moaned, rolling off Krish like a wildcat, my body slick and glistening.

Then—

I attacked Armaan.

Pinning him to the floor, I straddled him, my hands dumping the rest of the chocolate over his chest, my fingers sliding through the warm, silken mess.

His breath hitched.

His hands gripped my hips.

And the way his eyes darkened beneath me told me exactly what was coming next.

In minutes, we became a tangled, dark, sticky, chocolate-slicked mess—a writhing mass of limbs, tongues, and breathless moans.

I lost track of who was who.

All I had were my sensations.

The sensation of hands roaming over my body, kneading my breasts, squeezing, fondling—fingers teasing my hard, sensitive nipples, pinching, rolling, munching. I had no idea whose hands they were.

The sensation of a mouth buried deep in my belly, a tongue lashing, lapping, devouring my navel with maddening hunger. I had no idea whose tongue it was.

The sensation of fingers plunging into me, pumping in and out, faster, deeper—driving me to the edge. I had no idea whose fingers they were.

I was gone.

Just as I was about to lose myself completely, Krish’s voice cut through the haze of pleasure.

“Come on, let’s move to the couch.”

Before I could respond, strong arms lifted me—my body weightless in their grasp. I felt myself being carried across the room and then lowered onto the plush couch, my body now straddling Krish, who had laid back against the cushions.

His hands gripped my waist, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered,

“Get ready for the sex of your life, babe…”

I shivered.

“Because you’re about to be fucked by both of us at the same time.”

Oh.

A gasp tore from my lips as Krish spread my ass cheeks apart, his cock pressing against my tight, chocolate-slicked entrance. He moved slowly at first, easing in, the glide made effortless by the sticky, sweet mess covering both of us.

I moaned, arching back, my head falling against his shoulder as I adjusted to the stretch.

Then—

Armaan moved between my spread legs, his eyes burning with hunger.

I barely had time to process before, in one fluid, desperate motion, he pushed inside me as well.

My loud, shattered moan filled the room, mixing with their masculine grunts as they both began to move, their rhythm perfectly in sync.

The pleasure was unreal.

A double assault on my senses—Krish’s cock moving deep, thick inside my ass, while Armaan’s stretched and filled me completely from the front.

I could barely breathe.

I clawed at their bodies, my nails digging into their sweat-slicked skin, my own body caught between two powerful men, both of them driving me higher, faster, deeper.

And then—

Finally.

After two hours of being edged, teased, and pushed to my limits, I let go.

I shattered.

The orgasm ripped through me like an earthquake, my body convulsing, my walls clamping down on Armaan’s cock as wave after violent wave of pleasure crashed over me.

My screams turned breathless, my body writhing in their grasp, completely wrecked.

Seconds later, I felt it—Krish’s body tensing beneath me, his grip bruising, his breath ragged in my ear as he came hard inside me.

Armaan wasn’t far behind—his thrusts turned frantic, desperate, before he groaned deeply and spilled inside me as well.

I gasped, my body spent, completely drained as the heat of their release filled me.

The three of us collapsed in a sweaty, sticky heap on the couch.

Armaan rolled to the side, making room for me to slide down between them. I did so instinctively, my limbs feeling boneless, my body still tingling from the aftershocks of what we had just done.

For a long moment, none of us said a word.

We simply breathed, letting the blissful oblivion settle over us, our bodies tangled in a mess of chocolate, sweat, and pleasure.

I had no idea how much time passed.

Minutes? Hours?

As much as I wanted to stay in this warm, delicious daze, my mind eventually came back to reality.

And I became aware—of the sticky mess we were all in.

I cleared my throat, loud enough to snap them out of their trance.

“So…” I teased, arching a brow. “Who’s going to clean me up?”

Immediately, two exhausted, limp bodies sprang back to life.

“Meeee!” Armaan shouted, grinning.

“Me, meee!” Krish chimed in.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Come on,” I said, standing up, stretching my aching, thoroughly used body. “Let’s clean up together. It’ll be fun.”

30 Minutes Later…

Freshly showered, feeling clean and relaxed, we collapsed back onto the couch, this time wrapped in towels, sipping cool glasses of water, our bodies utterly spent.

Armaan let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“This is hands down the best birthday I’ve ever had,” he declared. “Probably the best I’m ever gonna have. Seriously, you guys… I couldn’t have dreamed of a better gift if I tried.”

Krish and I both burst into laughter.

“Well,” Krish smirked, nudging me, “his birthday wasn’t the only reason for tonight.”

Armaan looked between us, brows furrowing.

“There’s something else we need to tell you,” Krish said. “Navya?”

I turned to Armaan, my heart racing, my lips stretching into a wide, victorious grin.

I threw my hands up in excitement.

“I’m pregnant!”

Silence.

Armaan’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open.

“What?” he breathed. “Really?”

Krish grinned. “Yep, my man. You did in two months what I couldn’t do in two years. No gift we could give you is ever gonna compare to the one you gave us.”

Armaan was stunned, his gaze flickering between us.

I reached out, gripping his hand tightly, my voice filled with genuine warmth.

“Yes, Armaan,” I said, my eyes shining. “Thanks to you, we’re finally going to have a baby.”

I squeezed his fingers and winked.

“You, my dear brother-in-law, are the best a girl could ask for.”

“Huh…” Armaan exhaled, his voice quiet—thoughtful.

He sat there, unmoving, his expression blank as he tried to process the news.

I had no idea what was going through his mind.

Would he be happy? Would he feel conflicted?

Though we had assured him from the very beginning that he would have no responsibility over the child, the fact remained—it was his child growing inside me.

A reality he would have to carry in his heart for the rest of his life.

Seconds stretched in silence, thick with unspoken emotions.

Finally, he spoke.

“I’m happy for you guys,” he said, his voice even. But there was something… hollow about it. Like he was saying the words but not quite feeling them. “Congrats.”

I didn’t hesitate.

I went over and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight.

For a moment, he stiffened—then slowly, he returned the hug, his hands gripping me as though grounding himself in the reality of what we had just shared.

Then—hesitantly—he asked,

“So does this mean…” He swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have to… um… come here anymore?”

Krish let out a loud, amused laugh.

“Don’t be stupid, man,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re always welcome here. As we’ve already said, it’s up to you.”

Armaan nodded, but I knew what was going through his mind.

He wasn’t just wondering if he could visit anymore.

He was wondering if this meant he didn’t get to have me anymore.

And to be honest… I didn’t know the answer to that either.

Krish had been casual, open-minded—but with reason. Now that I was pregnant, everything had changed. Would he still be the same? Would I still be the same?

I didn’t want to push my luck and risk straining my relationship with him.

But…

Would I miss Armaan?

Yes.

Would Armaan miss me?

Absolutely.

“Well,” Armaan sighed, pushing off the couch. “It’s getting really late. I should get going…”

“Oh, no you don’t,” I said sternly, crossing my arms. “It’s too late for you to be heading home at this hour. You’re staying here tonight.”

“Bhabhi, I really need to go—”

“You sure, man?” Krish cut in, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Pretty sure there’s space in our bed to squeeze in one more person.”

Armaan froze.

Then—his lips slowly curled into a wide, mischievous grin.

I looked between them, warmth blooming in my chest, and thought with a surge of love and affection—

I have the coolest husband in the whole world.