Veeresh came home very late that night.

The house was silent when the door opened. Poornima heard his unsteady footsteps and knew instantly—he had been drinking. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t say a word. He went straight into the room and lay down, turning his face away as if the distance between them mattered more than sleep.

Poornima stood there for a long moment, her heart aching. Then she slowly walked toward him and lay down beside him. Carefully, gently, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her head against his back.

“Veer…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

He didn’t respond, but she knew he was awake.

“I wanted to tell you from the start,” she continued softly. “But you said… kids after one year. I didn’t know how to break it to you. I was scared of hurting you.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she reached for his hand. Slowly, she placed it over her belly, holding it there with both of hers.

“This is not a lie,” she said through her sobs. “This is our baby.”

She hugged him tighter, as if afraid he might disappear.

“Veer… please don’t abandon me,” she whispered. “I need you. We need you.”

The room stayed quiet, filled only with her broken words and the weight of everything left unsaid, as she held on to him—hoping, praying, that love would speak louder than anger by morning.