The sun set late.
Much later than in India.
The room slowly filled with the golden colours of evening.
From her suitcase she removed the groceries she had carried from home.
Rice.
Lentils.
Turmeric.
A few spices carefully packed by Anjali.
The meal itself was simple.
Rice.
Dal.
Comfort food.
Home food.
As the familiar smell filled the room, some of the loneliness disappeared.
She sat beside the window to eat.
Outside, students laughed while walking across the courtyard.
Inside, the room was peaceful.
Her hand rested unconsciously against her stomach.
Protective.
Instinctive.
Loving.
Then she felt it.
A tiny flutter.
A soft movement.
Not pain.
Not discomfort.
Something else.
She froze.
The spoon stopped halfway to her mouth.
For a moment she simply sat there.
Then slowly she smiled.
A real smile.
The kind that begins in the eyes.
"You liked dinner?"
The room remained silent.
Another tiny sensation answered her.
She laughed quietly.
"Or maybe you like Cambridge already."
The city outside remained unchanged.
Cars passed.
Students talked.
The evening continued.
Yet for Alankrita, everything had changed.
For the first time since the impossible diagnosis...
The future felt larger than the fear.
She looked out at the ancient university buildings beyond her window.
Then she whispered softly:
"We made it."
Not to Cambridge.
Not to England.
Not even to university.
To hope.
And that was much further than she had ever expected to reach.