Till the day before he left, both of you kept arguing about whether it would be a boy or a girl. He was somehow so sure that it was a boy to an extent that it began irritating you. So, just to counter back, you argued that it was a girl and it would turn into full blown debates. You'd bring up scientific and superstitious signs, while he simply stated that he 'felt it is a boy'. You'd groan in frustration, defeated by his stubbornness and nonchalance, while your daughter watched the scene like it is her favourite tv show.

But in the quiet of the night, when everyone else was sleeping and you'd cuddle with him underneath the blanket, he'd softly whisper in your ear how he didn't mind if it's a boy or a girl, as long as it was a healthy baby. You'd agree, nuzzling further into his bare chest.

So it is a difficult day when he has to go back, but you put on a brave face, knowing that he'll be back in no time.

Now, as you sit on the ledge of the backdoor of the house, watching your daughter run around wearing Jassi's old tshirt, you recount in your head the number of things you had to tell him once he comes back – your babygirl starting to speak full sentences, the baby bump growing, your pregnancy cravings reaching a new level of weirdness, Harleen teaching your daughter to ride a cycle, and much more.

Oh you couldn't wait for him to be back home.

Your trail of thoughts is broken by the sound of glass shattering.

You immediately stand up, and waddle towards the source of the sound with growing panic. Jasleen, who was studying in her room followed you out into the living room, where you found Harleen standing frozen.

Her Maa and Baba had already surrounded her, and it seemed like she had been talking on the landphone. The phone laid on the floor, and Baba picked it up after not receiving any response from Harleen about the call.

Meanwhile, you moved towards her, careful not to step on the broken glass mug as you reached her. You cupped her face and inquired about what's wrong, and she broke out of her trance to glance at you, then your pregnant belly before breaking down in your arms.

Shocked, you gripped her arms, urging her to tell you what's wrong, your panic growing by the second.

Jasleen wrapped her arms around Harleen, trying to make sense of the situation.

Just then, you heard Baba let out a gasp. His eyes filled with tears, and you remained confused, wondering who was on the phone.

Without waiting for a response, you passed Harleen onto Jasleen's arms, and took hold of the phone from Baba's hands before he could stop you.

"Hello?"

A crack of silence followed, filled only by the grainy noise of the machine.

"Hello, is this Major Jaskirat Singh Rangi's house?"

"Yes, I'm his wife."

The person on the other end of the line became quiet again, but it was different. It sounded like they were...afraid. You could hear their heavy breathing over the phone.

You felt nauseous over the sudden shift, your mind putting pieces together faster than you'd liked it to. Harleen breaking down, Baba crying...no. That can't be. Maybe it was something else. It had to be.

The person spoke up again, their voice coming out in broken rasps.

"We're very sorry, Mrs. Jaskirat...we...we regret to inform you that...Major Jaskirat has passed away during a mission."

No.

You shake your head, even though they can't see you.

No. This was not possible. How could it be? This had to be a cruel joke. Yes, it had to be. Sooner or later, your husband would come to the phone, or even better, knock on the front door, to let you know that it was just a bad surprise. Yes, that was it.

"Mrs. Jaskirat? Are you there?"

You spoke up, your voice breaking despite your belief.

"This has to be a mistake, sir. My husband is coming home two weeks later. He'll be here to receive his second child. He's... he's having a baby! Didn't he tell you that? He must have. He said that he was going to tell everyone. He even took sweets to give. He's very excited to be a father again. He promised he would be back by the time this baby is to be born. You must have got it wrong sir, you must have..."

Your words blurred into mere hiccups as you rambled, and you felt someone gently pulling you by the shoulders, the phone being taken from your hands.

You heard sorry's from the other end of the line, and you shook your head while tears flew from your eyes.

"Maa, why is he saying sorry? What is he sorry about? He must have had it wrong. My husband is okay. Right? He'll be home in two weeks. We planned to make all his favourite dishes for him remember? We'll have to get started next week itself. He'll be back soon. He'll be back to see his baby. And his daughter. His wife. He'll be back home to be with his family."

You went on, scoffing at the audacity of the unknown person to say that your husband won't come back home.

Harleen took your hand in hers, and pulled you against her side.

Your rambling blurred into cries, and you shook your head in denial, again and again.

"They've got it wrong haven't they? They must have. I mean... My husband can't be..." You paused, breathing heavily as the words settled in. "My Jassi...he can't be dead right? He promised he would come back. He promised. He promised he would be here to see his baby."

Just then, your daughter walked in, her cheery mood dropping once she saw the disheveled state of her Maa. She padded towards you, her small frame swallowed by the big tshirt she was wearing.

"Maa, what happened?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but a sob broke out, and you clutched your heart as reality crashed in on you.

You wordlessly scooped your daughter into your arms, and held her tight as you broke down.

Her father, your husband, your Jassi. Gone.

You remain in that position for what feels like hours, and your grief-stricken screams echo in the house as a memory that would haunt you forever.

Two weeks later, you're sobbing on the hospital bed as the doctor urges you to push, and you power through the life-altering pain, with deep breaths.

The sudden cry of the baby made you pause, and you watched in relief as the doctor pulled out a wailing, bloodied, baby.

The doctor exclaimed.

"Congratulations, it's a babyboy!"

Hopefully yall like it

Perhaps it can be treated as a brief ASMR moment. Perhaps it’s simply an oddly satisfying piece of character work. Either way, I keep coming back to it.

There’s something fascinating about this scene. For a split second, he doesn’t sound human at all. It’s less of a shout and more of a warning, raw, instinctive, almost like the growl of a cornered lion.

I should probably be concerned by how often I’ve replayed it.

Instead, I remain equally impressed, intimidated, and slightly unsettled.