Chapter 5: Not a Mistake Twice

The living room of the Suryavanshi residence was filled with an unusual tension. Veeresh stood before his parents and younger brother, holding a single photograph in his hand.

It wasn’t a glamour shot.

It was a candid photo — Poornima in a cream cotton saree, holding baby Aaradhya outside the RBI building. Someone from his team had clicked it when collecting documents. There was no pose, no awareness of being watched — just quiet dignity in her every movement.

Veeresh stared at it for a long second before placing it gently on the table.

“I want to marry her,” he said, voice calm but firm.

His parents looked up, stunned.

His mother, Sulekha, blinked. “Her?”

His father cleared his throat. “You mean... this lady? The RBI officer?”

“Yes,” Veeresh nodded, steady. “Her name is Poornima Rao. She’s a widow. Her husband passed away in an accident. She has a six-month-old daughter.”

Silence.

His younger brother looked between them. “Anna… are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious,” Veeresh said, his gaze unwavering. “I made a mistake once… a marriage where I didn’t understand what I needed. I won’t make that mistake again.”

His mother hesitated. “But Veeresh… she’s—”

“She’s a woman of strength,” he interrupted gently, but firmly. “She’s calm. Composed. Graceful. I’ve seen how she carries herself. I’ve seen how she holds her daughter like the world depends on her. And I’ve seen something in her… something I’ve never seen in anyone else.”

“But what about Ayan?” his father asked, softer now. “Will he—”

“Aaradhya made him smile,” Veeresh replied, eyes softening. “She made me smile. He needs love, not a perfect family on paper. And so do I.”

His mother’s lips trembled. “You’ve been through so much already, Veeru…”

He looked into her eyes.

“I’m not choosing her out of sympathy, Amma. I’m choosing her because I see her. And for the first time... I want someone not just to share my home — but to share my soul.”

There was a silence that filled the room like a prayer.

His father finally sighed. “Do you know if she’ll accept?”

Veeresh looked at the photo again, then at Ayan who had quietly entered the room and sat near his lap.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I want to try.”

He picked up the photo, pressed it gently against his chest.

“Because she’s not just Aaradhya’s mother... she’s the kind of woman I want my son to look up to.”

Scene fades.