Chapter 25: Choosing to Heal

Sunday morning came late.

Sunlight slipped lazily through the curtains, touching the quiet room where everything finally felt still. Poornima sat on the edge of the bed, holding her tea glass with both hands, staring into it like the answers might appear there.

“I’m taking therapy,” she said suddenly.

The words were calm—but heavy.

Veeresh froze.

The tea glass slipped from his hand and clinked softly against the table. He didn’t even notice. He walked over and sat opposite her, his face filled with alarm, confusion, fear.

“Why?” he asked gently—not accusing, not defensive—just worried.

She swallowed hard.

“I can’t concentrate on anything,” she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay steady.
“Those things… they keep coming back to my head. The mandap. The slap. The words.”

Her fingers tightened around the glass.

“In class, I get severe headaches. I read, but nothing stays. Exams are nearing and at night… I can’t sleep. I wake up tired. I feel like I’m just existing, Veeresh, not living.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t want to fall into depression,” she whispered.
“I want to live. I don’t want to keep drowning in what happened.”

Her voice broke completely.

“And I know… I hurt you too. With my silence, with my anger.”
“I’m sorry.”

She covered her face and cried.

Veeresh didn’t let her finish breaking.

He stood up, crossed the distance between them, and pulled her into his arms—firm, grounding, protective. He held her like she might slip away if he didn’t.

“No,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“Not at all, Poornima.”

She cried harder against his chest.

“I destroyed you,” he continued, his own voice breaking now.
“I shattered your life in one moment, and I’m ashamed of it every single day.”

He held her face gently, making her look at him.

“Don’t ever say sorry to me for wanting to heal. That’s courage. That’s strength.”

She trembled.

“Your parents will talk to you,” he said softly.
“Right now, they’re angry. Hurt. But anger cools. Blood doesn’t change.”

He rested his forehead against hers.

“And my family… the words they said, the curses you took for my mistake—I will carry that guilt forever. I swear to you, it will be addressed. It will be solved. But yes… it will take time.”

He hugged her again, tighter.

“I see you every night,” he whispered.
“I see how those memories haunt you. How you lose yourself in them. And it kills me.”

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.

“Do you want to take therapy?” he asked softly.
“Or are you doing this only because you think you should?”

She nodded firmly.
“I want to.”

“Then okay,” he said without hesitation.
“We’ll do this. Together.”

At that moment, something shifted.

Overwhelmed, exhausted, vulnerable—she leaned into him again. Veeresh lifted her face gently and kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t demanding.

It was quiet. Reassuring.

And this time, she kissed him back.

Not out of obligation.
Not out of confusion.

But because for one fragile second, her mind went silent and her body felt safe.

She melted into him, tears still slipping between them.

He pulled her into a firm embrace, his arms a promise.

“You will heal,” he said against her hair.
“You will live. And wherever this journey takes you—”

He tightened his hold.

“I am here.”

They stayed like that for a long time—holding, breathing, grounding each other—putting aside the past, the future, the expectations.

For that moment, healing had begun.