Chapter 5: Truth in Amma’s Words, Stirring in the Silence

The late afternoon sun cast a soft golden hue across the living room as Poornima quietly folded Veeresh’s kurta. Her mind was tangled in a storm — of memories, of the sudden marriage, of his unexpected kiss on her forehead, of the gold ring that now rested snugly on her finger.

Just then, Amma entered, wiping her hands on her cotton saree.

“Poornima… can I sit with you for a minute, child?”

Poornima nodded, sitting beside her respectfully.

Amma gently held her hand and smiled.

“Do you know, Poornima… Veeresh has loved you since childhood.”

Her eyes widened. The words hit her like a soft whisper and a thunderclap at the same time.

“What…? Amma, really?” she asked, stunned.

Amma chuckled, eyes warm with maternal pride.

“Yes, beta. Since those school days when you used to snatch his crayons and run around the compound with his lunch box. You never saw it, but we all did. His eyes always searched for you. His smile appeared only when you entered the room.”

Poornima sat frozen. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Then we sent the proposal to your parents. When they said yes… I have never seen my son happier. He even chose your wedding dress himself. He made sure his sherwani matched the border of your saree.”

Poornima swallowed hard. Her chest ached with something she couldn't name — maybe guilt, maybe confusion, maybe a part of her finally understanding his silence.

“He… he never told me, Amma. Not even once. He was just… my best friend.”

Amma smiled knowingly. “A best friend can also be a life partner, Poornima. In fact, the best marriages are between two people who start as friends. There is understanding, trust… and in your case, love — at least from his side.”

Poornima looked away, blinking back the surprise and heat in her eyes.

“Thank you, Amma… for guiding me today.”

“Always, beta. I may be your mother-in-law now, but I will always be your Amma too.”

They shared a quiet moment, filled not with noise but unspoken warmth.

“Come, let's make dinner together. Simple food is good for a heavy day.”

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In the kitchen, they worked side by side — rolling soft chapathis, stirring aromatic dal, and setting the table with a simple, comforting meal.

For dessert, Amma prepared a little sweet rice pudding, and Poornima added some chopped nuts like she used to during childhood festivals.

As they plated everything together, Poornima looked at the table, then at the kitchen, then at the gold ring still wrapped around her finger — infinity, he had said.

A new feeling settled in her chest.

Something was changing. Quietly. Gently. Unstoppably.