Chapter 37: When the Past Struck Again

The village fair bloomed like it did every year—lights strung across banyan trees, drums echoing through the evening air, the scent of incense and flowers filling every breath.

It was the annual Shiva–Parvati puja.

Families gathered together, barefoot, hands folded, carrying plates of offerings.
Veeresh stood beside Poornima, his fingers gently interlaced with hers—steady, protective.

They stepped forward for the puja.

Before they could reach the sanctum, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

“Veeresh… let us do the puja.”

Sahana.

She stood there with practiced softness, as if nothing had happened, as if history could be rewritten by standing close.

Veeresh didn’t hesitate even for a second.

“Get away,” he said sharply.

The firmness in his voice startled everyone around.

He tightened his hold on Poornima’s hand and walked forward with her.

The priest looked at them, nodded, and began the ritual.

As the chants grew louder, the priest handed the sacred vermillion to Veeresh.

“Beta,” he said kindly,
“fill her mang.”

Veeresh’s hands trembled—not from fear, but from emotion.

He filled Poornima’s maang with devotion, with promise, with everything he had failed to give her before.

She looked up at him.

For a brief moment, they smiled—pure, genuine happiness.

But that moment shattered.

Sahana’s voice rose again, sharper this time.

“We are getting married again,” she announced loudly.
“Our families have decided.”

And then it began.

Veeresh’s parents.
Sahana’s parents.
The same words.
The same curses.
The same poison.

“She trapped him.”
“She ruined his life.”
“Characterless girl.”
“Because of her—everything broke.”

Each word was a hammer.

Poornima’s fingers slipped from Veeresh’s grip.

Her breathing changed—fast, shallow, broken.

The fair lights blurred.
The chants twisted into noise.
Faces became shadows.

Her body remembered everything her mind tried to forget.

Her vision darkened.

“Poornima—”

She collapsed.

“POORNIMA!”

Veeresh screamed her name as she fell into his arms.

Her body was cold. Lifeless. Unresponsive.

Panic ripped through him.

“Please—please no,” he cried, lifting her.
“Poornima, look at me. You promised me. You promised you won’t leave me.”

People gathered. Someone shouted for a vehicle.

Veeresh ran—barefoot, carrying her, tears streaming down his face.

“Open your eyes,” he begged again and again.
“Punish me, shout at me, hate me—but don’t leave me like this.”

At the hospital, doctors rushed toward them.

“She has a history of trauma,” Veeresh sobbed.
“Please… save her.”

She was taken inside immediately.

The doors closed.

Veeresh collapsed onto the floor outside the ICU.

His hands shook violently.

“This is my fault,” he whispered, breaking.
“I knew this would happen. I knew it.”

He pressed his forehead to the cold wall.

“I brought her back to the same hell… and I lost her.”

The festival drums continued faintly in the distance.

But for Veeresh, the world had gone silent.

All that remained was one prayer—

Please, Shiva… give her back to me.