After some day's,

The doctor’s office was sterile, the air thick with the scent of disinfectant. Seema sat on the edge of the examination table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. Vikrant stood beside her, his broad shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. The doctor, a woman with sharp features and a no-nonsense demeanor, flipped through Seema’s file with a frown. “The situation is more complicated than we initially thought,” she said, her voice low and measured. “Given the high-risk nature of the pregnancy, I’m recommending constant monitoring. It’s not safe for you to be alone.”