The moment they stepped into Aavya’s home, the air inside felt heavy with tension. The dimly lit room smelled of sweat, medicinal herbs, and something faintly metallic—the unmistakable scent of labor. Aavya lay on a thin mattress, her face pale and drenched in exhaustion. Her belly, though rounded, appeared smaller than expected.

  Azhini wasted no time. Kneeling beside the woman, she placed a steady hand on the abdomen, her fingers pressing gently but firmly. Something didn’t feel right. Without hesitation, she lowered her ear directly onto the skin, listening intently. The heartbeat was there—strong and rhythmic. A relieved sigh left her lips. But the uterine height... it was lower than it should be for a full-term pregnancy.

  “Was your last monthly period accurate?” Azhini asked, her voice calm but urgent.

  Aavya nodded weakly. “Yes… it was nearly ten months ago.”

  That ruled out a premature baby. That meant the baby was either small for gestational age or something more concerning. And there was no time to dwell on possibilities—her water had already broken, though thankfully, it wasn’t meconium-stained. No sign of distress yet.

  Azhini rolled up her sleeves, then reached for the bowl of water nearby. She cleansed her hands meticulously—first with water, then soapnut solution, then again with water before finishing with alcohol. Meanwhile, her attendants sterilized her tools, passing them briefly through fire before wiping them down with alcohol-soaked cloths.

  “We’re almost there,” Azhini murmured as she slipped on gloves. “I need to check how far along she is.”

  Aavya let out a soft whimper but nodded. Azhini performed a quick per vaginal (PV) examination—seven centimeters dilated. She was already in the active phase of labor. But something felt… off.

  Pushing her hand further, Azhini’s brows furrowed. A soft, bumpy surface greeted her fingertips, but as she explored further, she froze. A mouth? But no tongue or gums…

  Her heart skipped. Meconium-stained fluid coated her fingers when she withdrew them.

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  A breech.

  Azhini swallowed her nerves. “The baby is coming bottom-first,” she announced, forcing her voice to remain even.

  The murmurs among the attendants grew worried, but Azhini lifted a hand, silencing them. There was no room for panic. “We’ll manage. But we need to help the baby descend.”

  She barked a series of instructions—attendants massaged Varma points, while another helped Aavya drink a carefully measured herbal concoction to aid the process. Tears mixed with sweat on the mother’s face as she labored through the pain, clutching onto the hands holding her.

  When the cervix finally reached ten centimeters, the room held its breath. The buttocks emerged first. Azhini whispered a quick prayer. No cord prolapse. That was one hurdle cleared.

  Aavya gave a mighty push, and the baby’s flexed legs followed.

  Azhini exhaled in relief. A complete breech. But the shoulders…

  Two minutes passed. Still no movement.

  Azhini wiped the sweat from her brow. The longer this took, the greater the risk of hypoxia and intracranial hemorrhage. She had to act fast.

  “Pass me the knife,” she ordered, voice steady despite the tension curling in her gut.

  A sharp, sterile blade was pressed into her palm. With precision, she performed an episiotomy, allowing more space for delivery.

  “Push, Aavya! Just a little more!”

  Encouragement rang through the room as Azhini worked. She first attempted a gentle downward traction—no luck. Gritting her teeth, she double-checked for any obstructions. No cord around the neck. Good.

  She grasped the baby’s hips firmly, rotating him a full 180 degrees. A sharp cry rang out—the tiny arms had been freed! Azhini quickly rotated him the other way, releasing the second arm.

  One final step. Only the head remained inside.

  “Supra-pubic pressure,” she instructed, her voice clipped but controlled. An attendant applied firm pressure above Aavya’s pelvis while Azhini positioned her right hand under the baby’s shoulders. Carefully, she inserted two fingers into his tiny mouth, ensuring his head remained flexed.

  One gentle downward pull.

  A brief moment of resistance—then—

  A wail split the silence.

  The tension in the room shattered, replaced by gasps of relief. Azhini let out a short laugh, exhausted yet victorious. “He’s here,” she breathed.

  Cutting the cord with practiced efficiency, she handed the newborn to two waiting attendants. “Check his vitals.”

  Moments later, a clean, swaddled baby was nestled into his mother’s arms. Tears streamed freely down Aavya’s face as she cradled her son, whispering soft prayers of gratitude.

  Azhini stood up, stretching her stiff limbs before stepping outside. The moment she did, she was met with two anxious figures—Soori and the young man who had guided them here.

  She wiped her damp forehead and beamed. “Congratulations, Soori. You have a son-in-law now.”

  Soori’s mouth fell open, eyes flicking between her and the house.

  “A tiny one, yes, but active like his mama,” Azhini added, amusement twinkling in her tired eyes.

  The young man beside Soori tensed, his hands clenched into fists. His shoulders, which had been stiff with worry, finally slumped as he let out a shaky breath.

  With tears brimming in his eyes, he managed a choked, “Thank you.”

  Azhini simply nodded, watching as he rushed inside. She leaned against the doorway for a moment, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in—but for now, she allowed herself a rare moment of satisfaction.

  Tonight, life had won.