Rain slammed against the night as the motorbike sped through the empty road. Ayaan sat in front, kurta soaked and clinging to his body, stretched tight over his huge pregnant belly. The wet fabric annoyed him—he suddenly grabbed the hem and yanked it up, exposing his bare, heavy belly to the rain without shame. Steam rose from his skin in the cold air.

Jaw tense. Eyes focused. Completely unfazed by the weather or his condition.

“This damn kurta is sticking to me,” he muttered, one hand briefly rubbing his exposed belly.

A bump on the road made his belly shift; he gave a quiet exhale but didn’t slow down. “Rain or not, I’m not staying home and acting fragile,” he muttered.

Lightning flashed. He glanced back slightly. “Hold tight. I’m speeding up.”