Episodes 5 : Last Hurrahs (as a couple)

As Anya entered her final trimester, the excitement for their baby's arrival grew palpable, a vibrant hum beneath the surface of their daily lives. Yet, alongside this joyous anticipation, there also grew a quiet, almost melancholic realization: their lives as a couple, just the two of them, were about to undergo a seismic, beautiful shift. Rohan, ever thoughtful and attuned to Anya's unspoken feelings, suggested they dedicate the remaining weeks to cherishing their pre-parenthood bond, to create a reservoir of memories for just "Anya and Rohan."

"Let's have some 'us' time," he proposed one evening, gently rubbing Anya's swollen belly, a tender gesture that had become second nature. "Before 'us' becomes 'us and a tiny, demanding human' who will undoubtedly steal all our attention and most of our sleep."

Anya laughed, a little wistfully, a pang of bittersweet emotion in her chest. "Sounds perfect. What do you have in mind, Mr. Planner?"

Their "last hurrahs" weren't grand, elaborate affairs, nor did they involve adventurous travel, given Anya's advanced pregnancy. Instead, they were simple, intimate moments designed to create lasting memories of their quiet companionship, reinforcing the foundation they had so carefully built. They revisited their favorite coffee shop, the one tucked away in a leafy lane where they'd had their first chaperoned 'date' – a formal, awkward meeting that now seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, they sat across from each other, hands intertwined across the small table, talking about everything and nothing, comfortable in the easy silence that punctuated their conversation. Anya, no longer nervous or guarded, felt a profound sense of peace and belonging in his presence, a deep contentment that settled in her soul.

They spent an entire afternoon at Rohan's photography darkroom, a passion he had cultivated quietly. It was something they hadn't done since he'd first set it up, a space that felt uniquely his. Rohan patiently taught Anya the magic of developing prints, the way images slowly emerged from the chemical baths, transforming from blank paper to vivid memories. Anya, with her artistic eye, found a new appreciation for his craft, for the precision and artistry involved. Rohan, in turn, visibly enjoyed sharing his passion with her, his usually reserved demeanor softening as he explained the nuances of light and shadow. The quiet, focused atmosphere, the faint smell of chemicals, and the shared anticipation of an image appearing felt like a metaphor for their entire journey – a slow, deliberate process yielding something beautiful and unexpected.

One evening, Rohan surprised Anya with a home-cooked meal – a simple, yet delicious, pasta dish, accompanied by soft jazz music and the warm glow of candlelight. He wasn't a gourmet chef, but the effort and thought behind the gesture touched her deeply, a quiet act of love. They talked late into the night, curled up on the sofa, reminiscing about their arranged marriage journey: the awkward first calls, the formal family dinners, the unexpected first argument that had somehow brought them closer, and the quiet, unassuming moments where their love had truly blossomed, like a delicate flower unfurling.

"Remember how terrified I was?" Anya confessed, leaning her head on his shoulder, her voice soft. "I thought I'd never find connection, never fall in love through this process. It felt so… transactional."

Rohan kissed her hair, his lips brushing her temple. "And I thought I'd never find someone who understood my quietness, or my obsession with mountains and cameras, someone who saw beyond the practical engineer." He paused, a gentle smile in his voice. "We were both wrong, in the best possible way. We found each other, and we built this. Our love story isn't a fairy tale with instant sparks, but it's real. And it's ours."

Anya turned to him, her eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness. "It is. And now, we're about to write a whole new chapter. A tiny, loud, messy chapter, filled with sleepless nights and baby giggles."

"And the most beautiful one yet," Rohan affirmed, his gaze filled with a profound love and excitement that mirrored her own.

Their final "date" before the baby's imminent arrival was a quiet evening at home. They sat on the floor of the soon-to-be nursery, surrounded by the neatly arranged crib, the tiny clothes folded in drawers, and the soft, comforting glow of a nightlight. They talked about their hopes for their child – that they would be kind, curious, resilient, and find joy in the little things. They spoke about the values they wanted to instill, the adventures they hoped to share as a family.

Rohan gently placed his hand on Anya's belly, feeling a flutter of movement, a small, reassuring kick. "Hello, little one," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Your mamma and papa are ready for you. We can't wait to meet you."

Anya placed her hand over his, a wave of profound love washing over her, enveloping them both. The room was ready, their hearts were ready. This was their last hurrah as a couple, a tender farewell to a chapter, but it was also the quiet, hopeful beginning of their biggest adventure yet. They were no longer just Anya and Rohan; they were becoming a family, their love expanding to embrace the little feet that would soon fill their home with an entirely new kind of joy and chaos.

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