Chapter 16 — Birth of Nivaan
The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and new beginnings.
Arin held Meira's hand, squeezing it tightly as the nurse placed their son into her arms.
"He's… beautiful," Meira whispered, tears streaming.
Arin stared down at the tiny, wriggling bundle. His heart, long armored and cold, felt something unfamiliar: awe, love, and a protective fire.
"I'm… I'm his father," he muttered, voice breaking slightly.
"I have to… do this right. For him."
Nivaan's tiny fingers curled around Arin's. A simple touch, yet it carried more weight than any battle he'd ever fought.
He looked at Meira, smiling softly through her tears.
"We'll figure this out… together," she said.
Arin nodded, swallowing hard.
"Yes. Together."
For the first time in years, he felt like he was home—not in a house, not in a memory, but in a life he chose.
And in that quiet hospital room, with the soft cries of a newborn and the warmth of the woman he loved beside him, Arin realized something profound:
Some things are worth surviving for.
Some things are worth giving your heart to—carefully, cautiously, and fully.