Poornima found out a few days later.

She stood alone in the room, holding the papers in her trembling hands, her heart racing—not with fear, but with happiness. A quiet, overwhelming happiness filled her. She was pregnant. The thought itself made her smile through tears.

But almost immediately, another feeling followed. Confusion. Fear.

She remembered Veeresh’s words—after a year. She didn’t know how to tell him. What if he felt unprepared? What if he thought she had rushed things? So she decided to wait, just a little. To find the right moment. To let him be calm, happy, ready.

Days passed, and she hid the truth inside her heart, protecting it like a fragile secret.

One evening, Veeresh was looking for some documents when his hand stopped. Papers. Medical papers. His eyes scanned them once, then again. His face changed instantly.

Poornima walked in and froze when she saw him holding them.

“Veer—” she began, her voice shaking.

He looked up, anger flashing across his face. “Why did you hide this from me?” he demanded. “Were you planning to tell me after the baby was born?”

“Veeresh, listen—” she tried again, stepping toward him.

“Shut up, Poornima,” he said sharply. The words cut deep. “I did not expect this from you. Every wife tells her husband first. First. And you hid it from me.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I was scared,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to pressure you. I just—”

But he didn’t stay to listen.

Veeresh turned away, his anger heavier than his footsteps, and walked out of the room.

“Veer… please,” Poornima cried, her voice breaking. “Come back.”

But the door closed, leaving her alone. She sank down slowly, tears flowing freely now—not just for herself, but for the distance that had suddenly grown between them, at a time when she needed him the most.