The story spread through Cambridge quickly.
Not the pregnancy.
Not the mystery.
Not the rumours.
Something else.
The girl who completed her examination despite collapsing afterward.
The girl who answered every question.
The girl who refused to give up.
The whispers changed.
Not because people suddenly understood her.
Because they respected her.
One afternoon Oliver approached her outside the library.
He looked uncomfortable.
"We were unfair to you."
Alankrita remained silent.
"We talked about you as if you were a story."
He looked down.
"You are not."
After several seconds she smiled gently.
"No."
She placed a hand on her stomach.
"We're not."
For a moment neither spoke.
Then,
thump.
Oliver jumped.
Alankrita laughed.
The first genuine laugh she had shared with one of the former gossipers.
Oliver stared in amazement.
"That was..."
"Baby Pumpkin."
Another kick.
Oliver smiled.
"Very dramatic child."
"Definitely journalist material."