The cement threshold, embedded in a layer of grime, beckoned Anvika. She walked carefully, avoiding the slimy stretch—a mire created by the previous night's rain. Streamers hanging at the gate swayed gently, their unhurried motion reminding her to stay in the present moment. Sunlight bathed the arch that stood tall and firm like a vigilant sentinel. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she opened the gates, the rust clinging to her palms. She paused, her hands trembling and her legs wobbling. Her husband, Kumar, held her hand, his reassuring grip helping her regain her composure.

“Go ahead, Mrs. Kumar,” he whispered, nudging her.

 “Are we doing the right thing? Maybe I’m not destined to…” she said, her voice dwindling.

 “We have talked about this,” he replied, his shoulders relaxed.

Visions flickered before her misty eyes - a faintly lit room, the incessant hum of devices, grave-looking attendant, a single pink line, the words "negative" printed in bold and red. Haunting voices buzzed in her ears - "We can attempt another IUI next month." "Our hopes now rest on IVF". "The ultimate purpose of a woman's life is to bear children".

Her temples throbbed, and veins bulged on her forehead. A sense of dread stirred in her chest. Blood surged through her body, sweat poured through the pores, and she felt parched. Knots formed in her stomach, twisting her gut and sending the gastric juices into a frenzy.

"I don't have the qualities of a nurturing mother, Kumar," she said, burying her face in her palms.

Tears flowed through the lines on her palm like a stream. Gasping for breath, she struggled to stand upright. Her vision blurred and she stumbled. He reached out, grasping her waist, wrapping his arm around her, his warm skin absorbing her sweat. 

"You will be the best mother," he said, looking into her helpless eyes.

She crossed the threshold, stepping into an unknown realm. A cloud of dust rose, and through the grey haze, she noticed children playing on the ground. Holding each other's hands, they swirled, their faces shining under the golden sunlight.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Kumar," approached a woman who guided them to a room to the right of the main building.

Anvika's heart hammered against her ribcage, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach—their relentless flapping surging the chaos within. As they entered the room with weathered walls and the air filled with a musty odor, she saw a woman holding a tiny form.

"Do you want to hold the baby?" asked the woman, smiling.

Anvika nodded, too dazed to speak. She stepped forward, stretching out her hands, and carefully wrapping her arms around the little one. The baby cried, his wails piercing through the drab walls. She stuttered, jumbled words rushing out of her.

"Mumma is with you," she whispered, kissing him on the forehead.

As the baby grasped her little finger and Kumar enveloped them in a bear hug, she felt alive.