Veeresh stayed quiet.

He didn’t turn toward her, didn’t hold her, didn’t say a word. The silence hurt more than his anger. Poornima watched his face, searching for something—anything—but he remained distant.

After a while, she gathered the courage to speak.

“Veer… we need to go to the hospital.”

He finally responded, his voice cold and controlled.

“Go by yourself.”

She felt her chest tighten.

“When you decided to hide it from me,” he continued, “why do you expect me now? You should have thought about that before.” He paused, pain slipping into his voice despite himself. “I would have been happy, Poornima. Because some things are not in our control. I would have embraced it—happily. Not like this.”

She tried to say something, but he cut her off.

“Don’t talk to me.”

Veeresh got up, got ready for work, and left without looking back.

The door closed, and the house felt unbearably empty.

Poornima slowly sank down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Tears flowed freely now. She rested her hand on her belly, her voice breaking as she spoke softly.

“Baby… appa is angry,” she whispered. “I made a mistake. I didn’t know how to tell him. I don’t know how to calm him down… but I need him.”

She pressed her forehead against her knees, sobbing quietly.

“Please, Veer,” she cried into the silence. “Please don’t abandon me.”

The room stayed still, holding her pain, her fear, and the fragile hope that love—deep as theirs—would find its way back to them.