The godbharai had been perfect until that one moment. Laughter, blessings, the glow of bangles on Poornima’s wrists—Veeresh had sat beside her, proud, protective, his hand never leaving hers. But then, like a venomous whisper, words cut through the hall:

"She isn’t of royal blood… these children aren’t truly Raj blood either."

The hall had stilled. Poornima had lowered her eyes, her smile trembling, but before Veeresh could silence them with his fury, she gasped, clutching her stomach.

“Veeresh!” Her cry was sharp, panicked.

He didn’t hesitate. In one motion, he swept her into his arms, ignoring the chaos and the murmurs. His voice was urgent, trembling but strong. “Move! Everyone out of the way! Poornima, hold on—hold on for me, for us.”

In the hospital, time blurred. The harsh white lights, the rushing of nurses, the clipped orders of doctors—it all spun around Veeresh, but his focus never wavered from her face. She squeezed his hand, her nails digging into his skin as waves of pain wracked her.

Her eyes, wide with fear, locked onto his. “Don’t… leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Veeresh whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “You’re my life, Poornima. Come back to me. Please.”

The cries came first. Tiny, piercing wails that filled the sterile air with the sound of new life. One boy. Then another. Then a girl. Three perfect cries. Triplets.

Veeresh’s heart soared and broke all at once. He turned to tell her— our children, Poornima, our legacy, our everything—but her grip had loosened.

The doctor’s words fell like hammers. “We’re sorry… she didn’t make it.”

The world collapsed. Veeresh stared, uncomprehending, at the stillness of her body. Her eyes, once blazing with fire and love, were closed forever.

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head violently. “No, you don’t understand. She promised me. She promised she wouldn’t leave. Poornima!” His voice cracked, raw and broken, as he pressed his lips to her cold hand.

The babies cried louder, their tiny fists waving in the air, as if calling for the mother who could never hold them. Nurses tried to guide Veeresh toward them, but he clung to Poornima’s lifeless body, his tears soaking her forehead.

“Wake up, Mrs. Raj,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You wanted three kids. You wrote it. You dreamed it. Don’t leave me to do this alone.”

But silence was his only answer.

In that moment, Veeresh Raj—once a man of power, anger, and pride—fell to his knees, clutching both his shattered heart and the newborn cries of his children.

The palace bells rang with the news of life and loss in the same breath. The world would see heirs to the Raj family… but only Veeresh knew the unbearable truth: his forever had slipped away the very moment it was supposed to begin.