The funeral was carried out with all the solemnity and grandeur of royal custom. Veeresh stood beside the pyre, his hands trembling, eyes hollow but burning with grief. The morning sun reflected off the ceremonial ornaments, but none of it could pierce the fog of loss that had settled over him.

As the flames began to rise, licking the air with fierce orange tongues, Veeresh stepped closer, his voice raw, carrying through the silent assembly.

“I’m sorry, Poornima,” he whispered, every word a shard of his shattered heart. “Forgive me… forgive us… for not being able to protect you, for all the pain we couldn’t shield you from.”

He knelt slightly, pressing his palms together, tears streaming down his face. “You were the best part of my life, the light that made me want to be more… better. I love you, Poornima. Always, and forever.”

Behind him, their triplets clung to the comforting arms of Sharada and Abhimanyu, innocent little beings unaware of the depth of loss, yet wrapped in the circle of protection and love their mother had left behind. The children’s tiny hands held theirs, their soft whispers of curiosity and comfort blending with the crackle of the pyre.

Veeresh’s fingers grazed the edges of the flames, as if trying to reach her one last time. The scent of sandalwood and ash mingled with the sharp sting of tears, but he didn’t flinch. He had made a vow then, silently and fiercely:

I will raise our children. I will protect them. And in every heartbeat, in every step of their lives, your love, Poornima, will never fade.

The flames roared higher, carrying with them the essence of the woman who had been his everything. And as the pyre burned, Veeresh felt a quiet, aching resolve settle deep in his chest. He had lost the love of his life, but he had their legacy—and he would honor it with every fiber of his being.