Chapter 27: Words That Wound, Silence That Regrets

They returned to the haveli just as evening settled in.

The house felt quieter than usual—too quiet after the warmth of the wedding.

Veeresh parked the bike and stood for a moment, looking around the courtyard.

“Dads should have been here to see this,” he said softly.

Poornima nodded.
“You’re right.”

He smiled at her then—but it didn’t reach his eyes.

As they walked inside, Veeresh noticed it again.

The distance.

She was trying—he could see that. Her efforts were careful, respectful, hesitant. But there was still a space she didn’t let him cross.

Something inside him tightened.

And then—without thinking, without filtering the hurt—he said it.

“Sometimes,” he said flatly, “it feels like you’re still living with your past… still thinking about Paul.”

The words fell heavy.

Poornima stopped.

She stared at him, stunned, as if the ground beneath her had shifted.

Veeresh didn’t wait.

He turned and walked away.

Poornima stood there for a long second, trying to breathe.

Then her composure shattered.

“How can he say that?” she whispered, voice cracking.
“How can he think that?”

Tears spilled freely now.

“I’m trying,” she cried quietly. “Every single day I’m trying.”

She covered her face with her dupatta, sinking onto the edge of the bed.

“Just because I’m scared… just because I’m careful… doesn’t mean I still belong to my past.”

Her sobs grew heavier.

“I chose this marriage,” she said through tears. “I chose him.”

The hurt cut deeper because it came from the one place she was beginning to feel safe.

Veeresh shut the door of the study room behind him.

His hands were shaking as he lit a cigarette.

The first drag burned his chest—but didn’t calm him.

“What did I just say?” he muttered to himself.

He paced the room, running a hand through his hair.

“How could I tell her that?” he thought bitterly. “I went overboard.”

He leaned against the desk, guilt crashing in waves.

“She’s broken… not disloyal,” he realized. “And I knew that.”

He exhaled slowly.

“But she also keeps me out,” another voice inside him argued. “She doesn’t let me in. Not fully.”

The cigarette burned down as his thoughts tangled.

“I don’t know why I said it,” he admitted to the empty room.
“Maybe because I felt shut out. Maybe because I wanted reassurance and asked for it the worst possible way.”

He crushed the cigarette and sat down heavily.

“I hurt her,” he said quietly. “And she didn’t deserve that.”

Outside the study, Poornima’s quiet crying echoed through the house.

And inside, Veeresh finally understood something painful and important:

Change doesn’t only require courage.

It requires patience—with others…
and with wounds that are still learning how to close.