Chapter 12: A Ray of Trust

The breeze felt gentler that day, almost as if the universe was finally aligning in their favor.

Veeresh’s parents had come over for lunch. They saw Poornima smiling in the kitchen, Veeresh casually walking around in his loose T-shirt — and something clicked in their hearts.

His mother held Poornima’s hands and said warmly,

> “You’ve brought light into this house, dear.”

His father nodded, placing a hand on Veeresh’s shoulder,

> “This time, don’t let it go, son.”

Veeresh didn't say anything, but he felt it — a strange warmth in his chest.

Later that evening, Veeresh stood near the balcony, smoking quietly, the city lights reflecting in his eyes. Poornima was inside the kitchen, cooking their dinner.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed.

Veeresh glanced at it. The screen flashed: “Arjun’s Mom Calling”.

His jaw tightened.

He picked it up, stared at the screen. The name alone stirred the possessiveness in him. When Poornima walked in, wiping her hands on her saree, he showed her the phone.

> “Your ex-husband’s family. Calling you now,” he said curtly.

Before she could respond, he brushed past her, his shoulder deliberately dashing against hers, as if punishing her in silence. She closed her eyes briefly, exhaling — not in anger, but in patience.

> "Maybe this too shall pass," she thought.

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Dinner & Delicate Conversations

Dinner was simple — dal, jeera rice, and a brinjal curry she remembered him liking once.

Poornima served him quietly. He took a bite and looked at her — not with anger, but a sort of conflicted restraint.

> “They want to meet,” she said softly, sitting beside him. “Before Arjun died… he had transferred some policies and things in my name. They want to return that.”

Veeresh said nothing at first.

> “I don’t mind,” he finally said.

Poornima looked at him and gently placed her hand on his.

> “You say that, but you do mind. And that’s okay. You’re not wrong to feel jealous… or scared.”

He stared at her, unsure of what to say.

> “But I’m not leaving you,” she continued. “I’m giving this — our marriage — a chance.”

He blinked, surprised by her clarity.

> “You mean it?”

> “Yes. I mean it.”

She smiled faintly and squeezed his hand.

> “I’m not asking for much. Just a little trust, Veeresh. If you ever feel doubt… ask me. I will always answer.”

His throat tightened. He wasn’t used to this kind of mature, gentle love.

> “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I really am. I’m… trying to change.”

> “Then just change your doubts first,” she said, half-teasing, half-earnest. “You ask a lot… but I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He smiled for real this time.

> “Thank you,” he said, pulling her into a soft, quiet hug. “Thanks for giving me that security.”

And just like that… something shifted.

They weren’t just broken people trying to survive anymore.

They were beginning to trust.

They were beginning to heal.

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