Poornima’s lashes fluttered, the harsh light of the hospital ceiling seeping into her vision. Her throat felt dry, her body heavy, but she managed to whisper, “Uncle…”

Abhimanyu leaned forward immediately, relief in his eyes. “How do you feel, beta?”

Poornima managed a faint smile, though it wavered. “Good… better than before.” She hesitated, her voice tightening. “But… I don’t want this marriage anymore. I can’t. I will divorce Veeresh.”

The words echoed like a tolling bell in the room.

Veeresh, standing at the edge of the bed, didn’t flinch. His face was unreadable, a wall carefully built. “Ok,” he said flatly, his voice stripped of emotion.

Sharada’s head snapped toward her son, shock and pain flashing across her face. “Veeresh!” she exclaimed.

But Abhimanyu held up a hand, his eyes never leaving Veeresh. “Have you both decided this is what’s best?” His voice carried the weight of a king, even here in the sterile quiet.

Poornima’s lips trembled. “Yes,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears.

Veeresh nodded once, jaw set. “Yes. Better this way. If she were truly of royal blood, she would have fought… but she doesn’t. She just… gives up.” His words were laced with something sharp, almost cruel—but beneath it was a flicker of pain he couldn’t hide.

He reached forward, his fingers brushing against the chain at her neck. With a single motion, he removed the mangalsutra—the sacred thread of their bond. The sound of the clasp breaking free felt louder than any shout. He placed it on the side table without looking at her.

Poornima’s breath hitched. A sob escaped her lips as Veeresh turned and walked away from the hospital room, his tall frame rigid, his footsteps echoing down the corridor until there was only silence.

The weight of his absence crashed over her. She clutched the bedsheet, her tears flowing unchecked.

Sharada immediately pulled her into her arms, cradling her like a daughter she had known her whole life. “Don’t cry, beta,” she whispered, stroking her hair gently. “You are not alone. Not now, not ever.”

Poornima’s voice broke as she whispered, “I never knew… I never knew that status mattered this much. That being born different could erase everything else…”

Abhimanyu sat down beside her, his eyes fierce yet tender. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “No, beta. Status doesn’t matter. Not to us. What matters is the heart. What matters is the strength to stand. You and Veeresh… you both need space now. But remember this—sometimes, the bonds that seem broken are the ones destiny refuses to let go. I don’t know why, but I believe you both are meant… forever.”

Poornima closed her eyes, her heart torn between the ache of Veeresh’s words and the unexpected warmth of his parents’ embrace. For the first time, she felt like she belonged in their love—even if their son had just walked away.