The morning sun filtered softly through the dressing room windows as Veeresh sat on the bench, lacing his basketball shoes. Poornima sat beside him, her eyes quietly watching him move — the familiar rhythm of tying, tightening, adjusting — each small motion a reflection of his focus, his dedication.

He looked up at her and gave a small, knowing smile. It was a smile she had come to cherish — calm, confident, yet full of something unspoken for her alone.

“Ready for the match?” she asked softly, her voice carrying just enough warmth to make him pause for a heartbeat.

“Always,” he replied, leaning in to peck her lips briefly. It was a soft, playful kiss, but it left them both smiling, hearts synced without words.

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Veeresh stood, stretching, and walked toward his team, who were already discussing the game strategy. He joined them seamlessly, authoritative and calm, yet there was a spark in his eyes that only Poornima noticed as she followed him with her gaze.

She watched him coordinate, motivate, and guide — the same Veeresh who had been her tormentor, her shield, her partner in silence and now, her husband. Each pass, each goal, each gesture of leadership made her chest swell with pride.

Sitting in the podium, Poornima’s hands rested lightly on her lap, fingers fidgeting ever so slightly when Veeresh glanced toward her from the court, almost like an unspoken acknowledgment of their bond.

Her heart raced with every jump, every dribble, every score. It wasn’t just the game — it was him, here, alive, passionate, and hers, even in the smallest gestures.

When he executed a perfect play with his team, she couldn’t help but cheer softly, a smile breaking across her face. And when he glanced up at her again, a flicker of that familiar smile touched his lips, only for her.

In that moment, she realized: watching him play wasn’t just about the sport — it was seeing his soul shine, and knowing she was part of it.

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