The Singh Haveli buzzed with life again — men moving about with election banners, villagers arriving to meet Rana Veeresh Singh, and laughter echoing through the courtyard. After years of silence and peace, Veeresh had decided to step into public service — not for power, but to bring change.

That morning, Poornima stood at the balcony, watching him walk out of the haveli in his crisp white kurta, confidence in every stride. The sun reflected on his face, and for a moment, she saw the same fire that had once ruled his youth — but this time, it burned with purpose, not pride.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she had asked him the night before, her voice steady but filled with concern.

Veeresh had smiled, taking her hands gently. “Yes, Poornima. I’ve seen enough wars and politics of pride. I want to use my years for people now. You’ve taught me that strength doesn’t come from power — it comes from peace. And I want to lead with that.”

Poornima had nodded, her heart swelling with quiet pride. “Then I’ll be with you, always,” she had promised.

Now, as he drove away with the convoy to file his nomination, Poornima stood there with Ira tugging at her saree. The little girl’s laughter filled the air. “Mumma, Papa went to big meeting?” she asked innocently.

Poornima smiled and nodded. “Yes, love. Your Papa is going to make everyone proud.”

But that day, something else stirred within her — a gentle dizziness, a strange warmth that made her sit down for a moment. Later, when she visited the doctor, her world stood still in beautiful disbelief.

She was pregnant.

The old lady’s prediction at the Kuldevi Temple echoed in her mind — “You will be blessed again… not once, but thrice. The goddess never forgets her daughters.”

Tears welled up in Poornima’s eyes as she walked home, holding the report close to her chest. She found Ira playing with her dolls and lifted her into her arms, whispering softly, “Ira, you are going to be a big sister.”

Ira blinked, not fully understanding, but clapped her little hands anyway. “Sister! Sister!” she squealed with delight.

Poornima laughed, the sound rich and tearful all at once. She looked toward the temple in their courtyard and murmured, “Mahadev, you are kind. You took away everything once, but you gave me everything back — love, family, life.”

When Veeresh returned later that evening, his face glowing with the pride of nomination, Poornima met him at the door, unable to contain her joy.

He smiled and said, “Your Rana sa has officially entered the war of votes now.”

Poornima looked up, eyes glistening. “And your Rani sa has something to tell you.”

Veeresh frowned slightly, curious. “What is it?”

She took his hand and placed it gently on her stomach. “You’re going to be a father again.”

For a moment, silence filled the room — Veeresh’s eyes widened, his throat tight with emotion. He looked at her, then at Ira, and back again. “Poornima… really?”

She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Yes, Veeresh. The old woman’s words… they’re coming true.”

He pulled her into his arms, voice thick with awe. “Mahadev’s blessings never fail, do they? This… this is our new beginning.”

Outside, the temple bells rang as if in divine approval — and inside, Poornima rested her head against Veeresh’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

The man who once knew only loss now had everything — a wife who loved him beyond measure, a daughter who called him Papa, and a new life growing from their love.

It was, indeed, a new dawn.