Chapter 67 — Come Back to Me

Poornima sat beside him slowly, as if any sudden movement might disturb the fragile thread holding him to this world. Machines beeped softly around him, their rhythm cruelly calm compared to the storm inside her chest.

She took his hand—cold, lifeless, nothing like the warm grip that always pulled her closer.

Her tears fell onto his knuckles.

“Why did you have kheer, Veeresh?” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You know you’re allergic. You always scold everyone for being careless… then why you?”

Her fingers trembled as she held his hand tighter, afraid to let go.

“Please don’t leave me alone,” she cried softly. “I can’t manage everything without you beside me. I need you. Our children need you.”

Her other hand moved instinctively to her belly. She gently placed his hand there, pressing it with hope more than strength.

“Your baby needs you,” she whispered. “Fight for once, Veeresh. Please.”

She bent closer to his ear, her forehead resting against his temple.

“The doctor says I shouldn’t talk much,” she said through tears, a faint, broken smile touching her lips. “But they don’t know you. They don’t know how strong you are. You always win, remember?”

Her voice cracked again.

“You will win this too.”

She kissed his forehead—slow, lingering, filled with prayers. Then his cheeks, as if trying to leave pieces of herself with him.

“I’m waiting for you,” she whispered. “Come back to your Poons.”

Her fingers tightened around the broken mangalsutra still clutched in her palm.

“You should be the one to make me wear it again,” she said, sobbing now. “Only you. And you should smear sindur on my hairline… not fate, not fear—only you.”

She leaned down, resting her forehead against his chest, hugging him carefully, protectively, as if shielding him with her own body.

“I love you, Veeresh,” she whispered again and again, like a mantra meant to keep him alive.

Finally, with immense effort, she pulled herself away. She kissed his forehead one last time, lingering there as long as the nurses would allow.

“Come back,” she said softly. “We are all waiting.”

And with shattered strength but unbroken faith, Poornima walked out—leaving her heart behind, wrapped around him, praying he would follow it back.