Poornima was in her room, quietly folding the fresh pile of washed clothes. The soft rustle of fabric and the ticking of the clock were the only sounds in the room.

Veeresh was searching for something, opening drawers and cupboards in hurry. His brows were drawn tight with irritation.

She looked up and asked softly, “What happened?”

“I kept my estate files here—where did you put them, Poornima?” he snapped, his tone sharp, full of anger.

She froze for a moment, then lowered her gaze. “I didn’t touch any of your things,” she said quietly.

Veeresh muttered under his breath, still searching, and stormed out of the room in frustration. Poornima stood still, her hands gripping the saree pallu, eyes glistening, but she said nothing.

Hours passed. The mansion grew quiet. Poornima lay down, trying to sleep, when she heard the door open softly.

Veeresh stepped in, the tiredness of the day written all over his face. He walked to her side and sat down.

“Poornima…” he said in a low voice. She slowly opened her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you. I’ve been trying to control my anger for years… but sometimes it just takes over. Still, it’s no excuse. I promise, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Poornima looked at him for a moment, then smiled gently. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You had a long day. Did you eat?”

He shook his head. “I had something at the estate. But… will you sit with me for a while? In the garden?”

She nodded, adjusting her shawl.

They walked out to the garden, where the night air was cool and calm. Fireflies blinked around the flowers, and the stars shone bright above the old haveli.

They sat side by side on the bench, not speaking much — just watching the stars.

After a while, Veeresh said quietly, “When I sit here, I feel peace… like all the noise in my head fades.”

Poornima smiled faintly. “Maybe it’s because you’re learning to listen to silence.”

He turned to look at her, the moonlight catching her calm face, and for the first time that night, Veeresh smiled too — not as a Singh, not as a man carrying anger, but as a husband slowly learning tenderness.