Chapter 36 – The Confession

The library was drenched in silence after the kiss, the kind of silence that carried more weight than words. The old clock ticked faintly in the background, its sound magnified in the stillness.

Veeresh’s chest rose and fell heavily. His eyes searched hers, torn between regret and desire, restraint and longing. And then, to Poornima’s surprise, he sank down slowly—settling on the edge of her lap, as though the strength had drained out of him.

Poornima stiffened at first, but when she saw his face—stripped of all its shields, eyes stormy yet broken—she didn’t move. She let him be.

His voice came low, rough, almost unrecognizable.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me, Poornima. All my life I’ve been two men—the professor who commands with knowledge… and the businessman who rules empires. At night, I wear another mask—the spy, the protector, the man who lives with shadows and secrets. I’ve never… never allowed myself to be weak. To feel.”

He paused, his hand curling into the fabric of her dupatta, almost unconsciously. His head bowed slightly, his breath warm against her shoulder.

“But then you came. With your simple white kurta, your calm voice, your stubborn innocence. You—who should mean nothing in my world—have become everything I can’t ignore. And it’s tearing me apart.”

Poornima stayed still, her heart pounding so loudly she thought he might hear it. She didn’t interrupt. She wanted him to speak, to release the storm he’d locked away for so long.

His tone broke, dropping into something raw.

“I see you laughing with students… reading your books… smiling like the world can’t touch you. And it kills me because I want to protect that light, even from myself. I hate how my chest aches when another man talks to you. I hate how your eyes follow me, because it makes me wish for a life I was never meant to have.”

Finally, he lifted his head, his eyes burning into hers, stripped of every layer.

“I don’t want to control you. I don’t want to chain you. I only want… you. The way you are. Even if it ruins me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and trembling with truth.

Poornima’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she let her silence wrap around him like a promise. Her hand moved, gently, to rest on his shoulder—steady, warm, unshaken.

Her eyes told him what her lips did not: I hear you. I see you. And I’m not afraid.

For the first time in years, Veeresh Raj—professor, businessman, spy—allowed himself to breathe freely, in the lap of the one woman who made him feel human.