The first rays of dawn slipped through the curtains, brushing across Veeresh’s face.

For the first time in years, he felt… rested. The heaviness that usually clouded his mornings was missing. Instead, there was a strange calmness in his chest.

He turned slightly and saw Poornima sleeping beside him — her face peaceful, her hand still clutching a corner of his shirt as if afraid to lose him even in sleep.

Last night’s words echoed in his mind. Every sentence. Every tremble in her voice. Every tear that had fallen on his chest.

He closed his eyes for a moment, guilt and tenderness blending within him.

She carried so much pain… and I never even saw it properly. I only saw my anger, my ego.

As he sat up, he thought about her words — “Please don’t abandon me.”

His throat tightened.

He never received that kind of warmth in his life either.

Meera… his first wife.

Their marriage had begun with hope but soon turned into endless arguments — over estate, over responsibilities, over everything trivial and large. Even after Kavya was born, nothing changed.

Love had faded, replaced by pride and constant fighting.

When Meera died, he thought he had buried love with her.

But last night, Poornima — with her trembling voice and tears — had awakened something he thought long dead.

Veeresh brushed his hand over his face and sighed softly. “Maybe she’s healing me too,” he murmured to himself.

Just then, Poornima stirred awake. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a brief second, panic flashed — as if remembering everything she said. But then she saw him looking at her, calm, not angry — just thoughtful.

He quickly composed himself and said in his steady voice,

“Good morning, Poornima. Freshen up and bring coffee to the garden. I’ll be there.”

Poornima nodded gently. “Okay,” she said, her voice still soft from sleep.

Veeresh gave a faint smile — not wide, not forced, but genuine — and stepped out toward the garden.

As he walked, he could still feel the warmth of her last night’s embrace lingering on his shirt.

And for the first time, he realized — maybe love wasn’t about youth or perfection. Maybe it was about finding peace, even after storms.