“Oh god, I think I’m dying here!”

 

Alarmed, I turned to the projectionist. She smiled back to reassure me, calmly turning knobs, pushing sliders. Then she spoke into a microphone. “You are fine, Miss Saya; it’s just your mind adjusting to the future.”

 

My wife in the other room nodded nervously, her head encased in an oversized overwired helmet.

 

“You’re right, you’re right.” Her grip loosened from the armrests. “I’m sorry.”

 

The projectionist pressed another button. “Look around you. What do you see?”

 

“Lights, doctors, nurses… “ Saya’s head swiveled as if they really were in the room with her.

 

She looked down at her lap. “Oh my god!”

 

“What is it, Miss Saya?”

 

“It’s… ” Her gasps morphed into giggles. “It’s a baby!”

 

She glanced in my direction; even with the crystal ball on her head, I could tell how widely she was grinning underneath it.

 

“Agam, we’re gonna have a baby!”

 

There was joy in her voice I haven’t heard much of in the past year. Not since our careers turned us into long-distance lovers under a single roof.

 

It was the joy in her voice on these rare days we could spend together.

 

“She was so cute, Agam!” She almost ran toward me after her fortune-viewing session. Tears lined her eyes. “She even has your cute, stubby nose!”

 

I laughed with her, hushing my own silly cynicism about the future she saw. Here was that rare glee I always longed for, and all I could think of was ruining it with questions about her condition, our monthly bills, or how much sleep we’re going to lose.

 

The future can wait.

 

Soon, the projectionist gestured me toward the chair and Saya finally let go, her pale face beaming as I put on the helmet.

 

“I hope you get a good preview, too!”

 

And I’m glad she enjoyed the one she saw. I just couldn't help but wish it would also mean a time when we’re finally doing a lot better, she’s a lot healthier, and I’m a lot more capable of being a father.

 

But if not… Well, it was just a preview.

 

The world around me started lighting up; a faint hum filled my ears.

 

“This might feel a little uncomfortable at first, Mr. Agam, but remember, it’s just your mind adjusting to the future.”

 

Thankfully, it didn’t sting that bad. Instead, I felt my hands grow heavier. My eyes darted all over the blurry abyss, my lips parting, quivering, tightening.

 

“Are you okay, honey?” Saya called out, one room and five years beyond my helmet.

 

“Not dead yet… So far… ”

 

The lights began tracing my surroundings. They outlined the far corners of a room somewhere, the edges of wide windows and rows of chairs, the silhouettes of people approaching and greeting me.

 

The lights coalesced on my arms and morphed into a baby in deep slumber.

 

My heart gushed.

 

“Are you in the hospital too, Agam?” My wife’s excitement pierced the illusion again. “Can you see our baby?”

 

I nodded. Unfortunately, she did inherit my stubby nose. But she also happened to have her mother’s dainty eyes, the angles of her mother’s cheeks, even her mother’s thin lips.

 

Every bit as beautiful as her mother.

 

But we were not in a hospital.

 

Little by little, the figures of our guests sharpened as my eyes settled in the future. Among them, I recognized my aunt who lived three hours away. Behind her was an old friend from high school. In the distance, three of Saya’s coworkers.

 

They were all wearing similar attires, radiating the same warmth, repeating the same pleasantries —

 

“Biyaya is so cute!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“What a lovely name!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“I love her goat pajamas!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

And one after another, they placed a kind hand on my shoulder, or a gentle palm on my arm, before going on to add —

 

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

 

Then they stepped toward the box behind me, whispering solemn prayers.

 

The box I’ve been fighting so hard not to see even though everyone had been saying Saya still looked so beautiful inside.

 

I just smiled politely each time. Nodded. Steeled my voice and thanked them for coming.

 

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

 

It was a remark that stunned me across time.

 

A voice so pure and unaware, because it was still five years and one room away, where Saya was beaming for our baby in my arms.

 

In that rare joy, I did not have the heart to ruin.

 

“Yes, honey.” I held tighter to my chest the preview of a future we would have to reconsider. “She really is.”