The celebration wound down slowly, but Poornima’s smile never quite reached her eyes. She laughed when spoken to, nodded when congratulated, and held Veeresh’s hand as though it anchored her in the storm. Yet, deep inside, her heart trembled.

When they finally reached their chamber, Veeresh closed the heavy door behind them. The silence of the room contrasted the noise of the palace. For a moment, Poornima stood frozen, still wearing her smile like a mask.

Then the mask shattered.

Her shoulders slumped, her breaths grew uneven, and before she could stop herself, tears spilled down her cheeks. She pressed her hands to her face, muffling her sobs, but her pain broke free in waves that she could no longer contain.

Veeresh was at her side in an instant, pulling her into his arms. She tried to resist at first, shaking her head. “No… I don’t want to cry. I don’t want you to see me weak.”

He held her tighter, his chest firm against her trembling body. “You’re not weak, Poornima. Not to me. Never to me.”

Her voice cracked, raw and fragile. “All my life… I wanted my father to just… accept me. To call me his daughter. To hold me once. But instead, he banished me. Called me a curse. Even today—” she choked on the words, “—he said I should not have been born. Do you know what it feels like to hear that… from your own blood?”

Veeresh’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt. He simply stroked her hair, letting her pour out every ounce of pain she had hidden for years.

“I thought marriage would heal me,” she whispered through tears. “But instead, it broke me more. And when you said those words about my blood, Veeresh… I thought you were just like him.”

His chest tightened with guilt, the memory of his past cruelty burning like poison. He tilted her chin up gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes glistened—not with anger, but with remorse.

“I was a fool,” he said softly. “I hurt you because I didn’t know how to handle the fire inside me. But tonight, I meant every word I said. You are mine. Not because of your blood, not because of any title—because you are Poornima. My Poornima.”

She clutched his shirt, tears soaking through the fabric. “What if one day you leave me too? What if our child feels the same emptiness I did?”

Veeresh cupped her face with both hands, steady and sure. “Look at me. I swear to you, on everything I am—our child will never feel that pain. And I will never leave you. Even if the world turns against us, I will not let go.”

Something inside Poornima broke free then—not in despair, but in release. She buried her face in his chest, letting years of silent ache melt away in his embrace.

Veeresh didn’t kiss her this time, didn’t seek passion. He simply held her until her sobs quieted, rocking her gently like she was the most precious thing he had ever been entrusted with.

For the first time in her life, Poornima allowed herself to cry without shame, knowing that in Veeresh’s arms, her broken pieces would not be judged—they would be cherished.