Chapter 17: The Torn Threads

The air had grown heavier since Sahana’s return.

She stood in the living room, eyes brimming with rage and disbelief.

Poornima stood silently behind Veeresh, hands clenched, heart pounding.

> “Veeresh… I’m alive. Then how could you marry her?” Sahana’s voice cracked, pain laced with accusation.

Veeresh took a step forward, his jaw tense.

> “You were alive? Then where were you, Sahana? Do you know what your silence did to me? I mourned you. I broke. I became a ghost of myself.”

> “You could’ve come back. You chose not to. Don’t ask me why I moved on. I married Poornima legally, with everyone present. I won’t undo that. I won’t leave her.”

Sahana’s eyes widened.

> “You… moved on? With her? She’s nothing but a second woman breaking a home!” she screamed, turning to Poornima with disgust.

Poornima took a step back, hurt but composed.

> “Mind your words,” Veeresh warned, voice rising.

“She did nothing wrong. She didn’t break anything — we both were broken. We healed together.”

In blind fury, Sahana pushed Poornima hard.

She stumbled, barely catching herself against the wall.

> “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Sahana shrieked.

> “Sahana, what are you doing?!” Veeresh shouted, running toward Poornima.

> “She’s your wife? I am your first! Your true wife! She’s the outsider, the curse that ruined everything!”

A call rang out.

Within minutes, police arrived — called by Sahana in her rage.

> “This woman has ruined my marital home,” she said. “She has no right to be here. I’m the legal wife.”

The officer looked confused.

Veeresh stepped in, angry but composed.

> “That’s not true, sir. I married Poornima lawfully, with full consent. Sahana was presumed dead. She left us. Now she has no right to throw accusations.”

But amidst all the chaos, Poornima lowered her gaze.

> “It’s okay, Veeresh,” she whispered, her voice broken. “Let it be. I… I will leave.”

He turned to her, alarmed.

> “Poornima, no—”

But she was already gone.

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Later that night

The apartment was dark.

Poornima entered, dragging her feet. The moment the door shut, she collapsed to the floor.

Her hands trembled as she touched her mangalsutra.

Sahana’s words echoed in her mind:

> “You’re the second woman.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

> “Why me… always?” she whispered. “What did I do so wrong in life that love always leaves?”

She clutched the bedsheet, curling into it.

The coldness of the room didn’t hurt as much as the emptiness in her heart.

She fell asleep, mangalsutra in hand, tears staining her pillow — hoping the morning might bring clarity, if not peace.

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