Chapter 78 – Fragments of Memory

Poornima sat by the window, a novel in her hand, though her eyes skimmed the words without fully seeing them. Every now and then, a fragment of a memory—smile, laughter, touch—flashed in her mind, leaving her head spinning.

Veeresh quietly approached, concern etched on his face. He reached out to steady her, but his father’s calm voice stopped him.

“Let her spiral, Veeresh. The doctor warned—it’s part of her healing. We can’t interfere too much.”

Veeresh’s hands hovered, torn. “Dad… she’s in pain. I can’t just watch her suffer.”

Raghav placed a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “I understand, son. But sometimes the heart must find its own way back. Your love will guide her, not force her.”

Poornima’s eyes darted around, her expression a mixture of confusion and longing. Then, slowly, she saw their son in his cradle. Her breath caught. She reached out instinctively, cradling him close, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Veeresh, watching her, felt his own tears well up. His father nodded silently, giving him permission to leave. Veeresh hesitated, fear gripping him. But Poornima looked up, her eyes finding his.

“Veer…” she whispered softly.

He stepped closer, his voice cracking with emotion. “Did you… did you hold our son first?”

She smiled through her tears. “Yes… I felt like holding him forever. And thank you… for keeping the promise.”

Veeresh pressed his forehead gently to hers, tears escaping freely. “Always, Poornima. Always.”

She hugged him tightly, whispering, “I feel like I’ve been sleeping for a month.”

Veeresh smiled, voice tender, “No… you were exhausted after the birth. Everything was complicated, but you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

She held him close, drawing strength from his warmth, while he felt a mixture of relief and joy flood his heart. Quietly, he promised himself he would tell her later about the coma—the moment he had been silently protecting her from, preserving her peace.

For now, he let the fragments guide her back, letting her embrace the present, their son, and their love—while silently preparing for the day her memory would catch up with the life they had forged together.