**Scene 1: The Clinic Calm – Routine Reassurance**
The sterile, lemon-scented air of Dr. Samina's clinic was a familiar contrast to the warmth of home. Maryam sat perched on the edge of the examination table, the crisp paper crinkling beneath her. Haroon stood beside her, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder, his posture radiating a vigilance that had intensified as the weeks counted down. The soft whir of the fetal doppler filled the room as Dr. Samina moved the probe over Maryam's now prominently rounded belly.
A rapid, rhythmic thumping – the strong, steady heartbeat of their child – echoed through the speaker. Haroon's grip on Maryam's shoulder tightened almost imperceptibly, a silent exhale escaping him. Maryam's own breath hitched, a wave of profound relief and wonder washing over her each time she heard that sound.
**Dr. Samina (smiling, removing the probe):** "There we go. Textbook perfect, as always. Strong heartbeat, excellent rhythm. Baby is very active today, isn't he or she?"
**Maryam (returning the smile, placing a hand on her bump):** "Constantly, Doctor. Especially at night. Little footballer in training."
**Haroon (leaning in slightly):** "Everything is... completely normal, Doctor? Measurements? Position?"
**Dr. Samina (turning to her desk, reviewing notes):** "Everything looks splendid, Haroon Sahib. Maryam is doing wonderfully. Baby is measuring right on track for 34 weeks, head down – perfect position for the final stretch." She swivelled back, her expression warm but firm. "Now, we enter the phase of *extra* care and time. These last two months are crucial. No heavy lifting, Maryam. Feet up whenever possible. Continue your gentle walks, but listen to your body – stop *before* you feel tired. Hydration is key, even more than before. And," she looked pointedly at Haroon, "ensure she's eating small, frequent, nutritious meals and taking her prenatal vitamins and iron supplements *exactly* on time. No skipping."
**Haroon (nodding vigorously):** "Understood, Doctor. Absolutely. I have alarms set."
**Maryam (softly):** "He reminds me more diligently than the alarm itself, Doctor."
**Dr. Samina (chuckling):** "Good! That's what we like to see. Placenta is looking healthy, fluid levels are optimal. Truly, Maryam, you are sailing through beautifully. Just keep doing what you're doing – resting, eating well, staying hydrated, taking your supplements, and attending your weekly appointments. Any unusual pain, swelling, headache, or reduced movement – call me immediately, day or night. Understood?"
**Maryam (meeting the doctor's gaze):** "Understood. Thank you, Dr. Samina. It's... reassuring to hear."
**Haroon (helping Maryam down from the table):** "Yes, thank you, Doctor. We appreciate it."
As they stepped out into the bright corridor, the clinical calm replaced by the gentle bustle of the waiting area, Haroon wrapped a protective arm around Maryam's waist. The doctor's words – "extra care," "final stretch," "two months" – echoed in his mind, solidifying his resolve. The finish line was in sight, but the path demanded heightened vigilance.
**Scene 2: The Weight of Waiting – Homebound Harmony**
Haroon carefully navigated the car through the afternoon traffic, his usual focus sharpened. Every bump in the road elicited a concerned glance towards Maryam. He pulled into their driveway with the precision of a chauffeur.
**Haroon (killing the engine, turning to her):** "Alright? Not too bumpy?"
**Maryam (smiling, unbuckling her seatbelt):** "Haroon, I'm pregnant, not made of glass. The ride was fine. Truly." She placed a hand on his arm. "You don't need to drive like you're transporting nitroglycerin."
**Haroon (grinning sheepishly):** "Old habits die hard. Hazard of the job, perhaps. Or just…" He placed his hand over hers on her bump. "…wanting everything smooth for both of you." He got out, hurried around, and opened her door, offering his hand. "Come on, meri jaan. Doctor's orders: rest. Straight to the sofa. Tea?"
**Maryam (taking his hand, easing out):** "Tea would be lovely. But I'm perfectly capable of making it."
**Haroon (shaking his head firmly, guiding her towards the door):** "Absolutely not. Sofa. Now. Consider me your official hydration and nutrition coordinator." He unlocked the door and ushered her inside, straight to the plush sofa in the living room. He plumped cushions behind her back and draped a light shawl over her legs. "Comfortable?"
**Maryam (laughing softly, settling in):** "Haroon, you're hovering like a hummingbird. I feel like a queen on her throne. Tea coordinator, proceed."
The next few hours unfolded in a rhythm dictated by Haroon's newfound regimen. True to his word, alarms chimed on his phone with military precision. The first marked vitamin time. He appeared with a glass of water and the small pill box.
**Haroon (holding out the water and pill):** "Supplement time, Commander Maryam." He waited patiently until she swallowed it.
Later, another alarm. He emerged from the kitchen with a small bowl of sliced mangoes and a handful of almonds.
**Haroon:** "Nutrient boost. Doctor's orders." He sat beside her, handing her the bowl.
**Maryam (taking a slice of mango):** "You know, I *can* get these myself when the alarm goes off."
**Haroon (picking up a discarded embroidery hoop from beside her):** "I know. But I *like* doing it. Humour me? Think of it as practice." He looked at the half-embroidered tiny floral pattern on the soft cotton fabric – a project for the baby's room. "This is coming along beautifully."
**Maryam (watching him examine her work):** "Practice for what? Hand-feeding me almonds?"
**Haroon (smiling, placing the hoop down gently):** "Practice for being present. For paying attention. For…" He met her eyes, the lightness fading into earnestness. "For making sure nothing slips through the cracks, especially now. Two months, Maryam. It feels… immense."
The weight of his words, his palpable focus, settled over her. It wasn't smothering; it was a deep, anchoring love expressed through meticulous care. She squeezed his hand.
**Maryam:** "It does. But we're doing it together. Even the almond delivery service." She finished the fruit. "Now, shouldn't you be heading back? Don't want the SSP wondering where his star officer vanished to after a 'quick' clinic visit."
**Haroon (glancing at his watch):** "Right. Duty calls. But only for a few hours. I'll be back before you know it. Rest. Read. Embroider. Hydrate!" He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. "Call me if you need *anything*. Anything at all."
**Scene 3: Tiny Tokens, Silent Understanding – The Unspoken Joy**
The late afternoon sun slanted through the balcony doors, casting long golden rectangles across the living room floor. Maryam had dozed off on the sofa, her embroidery resting on her lap, a peaceful expression softening her features. The gentle click of the front door unlocking roused her slightly.
Haroon entered, trying to be quiet, but the rustle of multiple shopping bags betrayed him. He saw her stirring and smiled apologetically.
**Haroon (whispering):** "Didn't mean to wake you."
**Maryam (blinking sleepily, pushing herself up):** "It's alright. I was just resting my eyes." Her gaze drifted to the large, colourful bags he was carefully setting down near the armchair. "What's all this? Did you raid the market?"
Haroon didn't answer immediately. A slightly shy, almost boyish grin spread across his face, replacing his usual composed demeanour. He knelt beside the bags and began to carefully extract their contents, laying them out on the coffee table and the sofa beside her.
First came tiny, impossibly soft sleepers – one in pale yellow cotton with little ducklings, another in mint green with delicate white stitching. Then, miniature socks, so small they looked like they belonged on a doll. Next, a set of muslin cloths in soothing pastel stripes. A small, plush rattle shaped like a star. And finally, a practical, unopened pack of newborn-sized diapers.
Maryam watched, her sleepiness evaporating, replaced by a rising tide of emotion that tightened her throat. The sheer *tiny-ness* of the clothes, the softness of the fabrics, the sweetness of the rattle – they were tangible proof of the imminent reality. Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, cradling the life within that would soon fill these clothes.
She looked at each item, her eyes tracing the patterns on the sleepers, her fingers reaching out to brush the velvety ear of a plush bunny he hadn't even unpacked yet. A wave of intense love and a flicker of overwhelming vulnerability washed over her. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to thank him profusely. But words seemed inadequate, lodged somewhere deep behind the lump in her throat. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked from the tiny treasures back to Haroon, her expression a complex map of profound gratitude, deep love, and the sheer awe of impending motherhood.
Haroon watched her reaction intently. He saw the tremor in her lips, the sheen in her eyes, the way her hand pressed against her bump. He didn't need her to speak. He understood the language of her silence, the depth of feeling that rendered her momentarily wordless. He saw the overwhelming joy mixed with the natural apprehension, the sheer magnitude of what these small items represented.
He didn't prompt her. He didn't ask if she liked them. He simply moved. Gently, he gathered the tiny clothes and soft toys, placing them carefully aside on the armchair. Then, he sat down on the sofa beside her, close enough that their thighs touched. Slowly, deliberately, he put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her into the warmth and solidity of his embrace. She leaned into him willingly, her head finding its familiar place against his shoulder, her hand still resting on her stomach.
He pressed a soft, lingering kiss onto her forehead, his lips warm against her skin. The silence stretched, comfortable and thick with unspoken understanding. The only sounds were their breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.
**Haroon (his voice a low murmur, vibrating against her hair):** "I know, Maryam. I feel it too. Every tiny sock. Every soft stitch." He tightened his arm slightly. "It's real. It's almost here." He paused, letting the enormity of it settle. "And I'm here. For all of it. Every moment. Every fear. Every joy. Every dirty diaper." A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. "I'm here for you, meri jaan. Always."
Maryam closed her eyes, the tears finally escaping, tracing warm paths down her cheeks. They weren't tears of sadness, but of a love and anticipation so vast it overflowed. She turned her face slightly, burying it in the curve of his neck, inhaling his familiar, comforting scent. She still didn't speak, but she lifted the hand not on her bump and placed it over his heart, feeling its steady, reassuring beat beneath her palm. It was her answer. It was everything.
They sat like that in the quiet, golden light, surrounded by the tangible promise of their future – tiny clothes, soft toys, and the profound, silent bond holding them together, stronger than any word. The weight of the waiting, the doctor's instructions, the two-month countdown – it was all still there, but held securely within the circle of his arms. The nesting had begun, not just with physical items, but deep within their hearts.