Chapter 20: When the Past Still Hurts

Poornima whispered, “Sorry,” when Veeresh came back.

He didn’t respond.

Not with anger—worse. With silence.

He walked straight to the washroom, shut the door, and when he came out, he didn’t even look at her. He picked up his phone, called the maid, and asked for coffee.

That small act pierced deeper than words ever could.

Poornima felt it then—that hollow pull in her chest.
He’s building walls.

Before she could stop herself, she caught his wrist.

“Veeresh,” she said, her voice trembling.

He turned, startled.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, confused, guarded.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she led him to their room and shut the door behind them.

Her hands were shaking now.

“I didn’t pull my hand away because of you,” she began, tears pooling before she could stop them. “I pulled it away because I got scared.”

Veeresh frowned slightly, concern replacing distance.

“My ex-husband… Paul,” she said, her voice breaking. “Once, he held my hand just like that. I trusted him. And then—” Her breath caught violently. “He hurt me. Not just physically… mentally. Emotionally. I froze that day.”

Tears streamed freely now.

“When you held my hand,” she sobbed, “my body remembered before my mind could. I wasn’t rejecting you. I was protecting myself.”

Her words tumbled out faster, uneven, fractured.

“I didn’t want you to feel unwanted. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just—” She gasped suddenly, clutching her chest. “I can’t breathe.”

Her breathing turned shallow, frantic.

Veeresh reacted instantly.

“Poornima,” he said firmly but gently. “Look at me.”

She couldn’t.

He stepped closer, rubbing slow circles on her back, grounding, steady.
“You’re safe. You’re here. Nothing is happening.”

Her breathing worsened.

He guided her to sit, brought water, and held the glass to her lips.
“Drink. Slowly.”

She took a sip, then another—but her breath still raced.

“Okay,” he said softly, sitting in front of her. “Breathe with me. Just follow me.”

He demonstrated deliberately.

“In… slow.”
“Out… slow.”

He placed her head against his chest, one hand steady on her back, the other supporting her shoulder—not possessive, not demanding. Just there.

Again he breathed.
She followed.

Once.
Twice.
Three times.

Her sobs softened. Her breathing slowed.

Veeresh rested his chin lightly against her head.

“I should’ve asked,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She shook her head weakly.
“I didn’t explain.”

“We’re learning,” he replied. “Both of us.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

“You don’t owe me closeness,” he said. “But don’t disappear into fear either. I’m not him.”

That sentence settled somewhere deep inside her.

For the first time since the marriage, Poornima felt something loosen—not love, not certainty—

But safety.

And sometimes, that’s the beginning of everything.