Chapter 19: Questions She Didn’t Want to Ask Herself

(Poornima’s POV)

Poornima returned to her cabin, closed the door, and stood still for a moment longer than necessary.

Veeresh’s words replayed in her mind—not what he said, but how he said it. Careful. Measured. Respectful. There was no entitlement in him, no claim on the past, no attempt to soften her with familiarity.

And that disturbed her more than if he had crossed a line.

She sat at her desk, opened a file, and realized she was staring at the same page without reading a word.

Why does this feel different? she wondered.

She had faced attention before—after Mohammed’s death, colleagues, acquaintances, even well-meaning relatives had tried to fill what they thought was emptiness. She had learned how to deflect politely. How to shut doors without noise.

But Veeresh hadn’t knocked.

He had stood outside and asked if she wanted the door closed.

That night, at home, while her children were busy with their lives, Poornima stood by the kitchen window with her cup of tea. The city lights blinked below, indifferent and constant.

She asked herself questions she had avoided for years.

Was I really done with love?

Or was I just afraid of choosing again?

She didn’t feel guilt toward Mohammed. Loving again wouldn’t erase him. He had his place—etched into her life, her children, her memories.

But Veeresh belonged to a different timeline. A what if she had never allowed herself to explore.

What unsettled her most was not desire.

It was trust.

She trusted his restraint.

She trusted his respect.

And that frightened her more than attraction ever could.

Poornima closed her eyes.

I am not ready, she told herself.

But for the first time, she also admitted:

I am not closed either.