Chapter 65 — When Faith Trembled, Love Held On

The doctor had been very clear.

“Because of her age, she needs extra care. No stress. No strain.”

Veeresh took those words like a vow.

From that day, he watched Poornima like she was made of glass—waking her on time, reminding her about medicines, scolding her gently if she tried to lift even a small vessel. And the kids followed his lead.

Rudra wouldn’t let her climb the stairs alone.
Ramir brought her water every hour.
Mannat stayed beside her, talking endlessly.
Kayan and Kavya treated her like she was something precious, something to be protected.

“Mom, you just sit,” they’d say. “We’ll do everything.”

Poornima smiled through it all. Her body was responding well, the nausea had eased, and by the fourth month, her belly had begun to show—soft, visible proof of the life growing inside her.

She often rested her palm there, feeling calm.

That afternoon, everything changed.

She was adjusting her saree when suddenly—

Click.

The mangalsutra snapped.

The black beads scattered on the floor, rolling away in every direction. Before she could even process it, the sindur box slipped from her hands, spilling red across the tiles.

Her heart dropped.

“Veeresh…” she whispered.

A strange fear crawled up her spine. Her hands shook as she bent down, gathering the black beads one by one, tears blurring her vision. Something felt terribly wrong.

She walked downstairs, crying openly now.

“Call Veeresh,” she sobbed. “Please call him.”

Rudra tried. Again and again.

“Mom… Dad isn’t picking up,” he said, worry seeping into his voice.

Then the phone rang.

It wasn’t Veeresh.

It was his assistant.

“Madam,” the voice said hesitantly, “Sir has been admitted to the hospital.”

The world tilted.

“Veer…” Poornima gasped, her legs giving way.

Ramir rushed to hold her. “Mom, please calm down. Please.”

They didn’t waste a second.

The drive to the hospital felt endless. Poornima sat silently, tears flowing without sound, one hand pressed tightly against her four-month belly, the other clutching the broken mangalsutra beads.

Inside her heart, she prayed—not loudly, not dramatically—just desperately.

Please, God…
Don’t take him away.
My children need him.
This child needs him.
I need him.

She rested her palm on her belly, breathing through the fear.

“Stay strong,” she whispered—to herself, to the baby, to her love waiting somewhere behind hospital walls.

Faith was shaking.

But love hadn’t let go.