Secrets rarely survive universities.
Eventually the story spread.
The Indian girl.
The medical anomaly.
The genetic condition.
The impossible pregnancy.
Some students were fascinated.
Some were supportive.
Some simply stared.
Others whispered.
Alankrita would occasionally hear fragments while passing through hallways.
"Is it really true?"
"How is that even possible?"
"Maybe there is another explanation."
"Poor girl."
The words hurt.
Not because they hated her.
Because they doubted her existence.
Because they discussed her life as if she were a newspaper article rather than a person.
Some evenings she would sit alone beneath old trees in the college gardens.
The autumn wind would move quietly around her.
The loneliness would creep back.
And then...
Thump.
A small movement.
Another one.
Then another.
Her hand would immediately move to her stomach.
The baby always seemed to know.
Almost as if the tiny life inside her was saying:
"Ignore the noise."
"I am here."
"You are not alone."
She always smiled afterward.
No matter how much it hurt.
No matter how lonely she felt.
The tiny heartbeat always won.