The auto-rickshaw groaned to a halt outside the small, clean clinic. Sweat trickled down Ananya’s spine, not just from the humid Dum Dum afternoon, but from the weight of the thin file in her hand. For eighteen months, that file had contained only hope and heartbreak. Today, it held their final decision.
They had chosen this place for a reason. The fancy hospitals in South Kolkata felt cold, like airports where you waited for a flight that was always delayed. Here, the receptionist, Moushumi di, remembered that Ananya preferred ginger tea and that Rohan got nervous and chewed on his pen caps. iui centre in dum dum
Now, two weeks later, they were back for the beta HCG blood test. The auto-rickshaw groaned to a halt outside the
The waiting room was full of other stories. A woman in a green saree was knitting a tiny yellow bootie, not out of celebration, but out of trying to manifest joy. A young couple sat apart, not speaking, the husband scrolling endlessly on his phone while the wife stared at a poster about ovulation cycles. Today, it held their final decision
The sound that came out of her was not a cry or a laugh. It was a release—a long, shaky exhale that carried eighteen months of injections, temperature charts, and silent tears in the bathroom.
Dr. Sen turned the report around.