Chapter 22

Learning to Breathe Again
(Poornima’s POV)

There are some silences that hurt loudly.

Living in the Raisinghania mansion, surrounded by people, warmth, and care… I still felt the absence of one person the most — .

It wasn’t that he was cruel.
It wasn’t that he neglected responsibility.

He simply wasn’t there.

Some nights I would sit near the window after putting Inayat to sleep and look toward the staircase that led to his penthouse. I never went up. I never called him. He had drawn the line clearly — this marriage is protection. And I respected that.

But respect doesn’t silence longing.

At the hospital, when I heard my baby’s heartbeat, I instinctively wished he stood beside me. When the doctor said, “Everything is progressing well,” I wanted to tell him. When the baby kicked for the first time, my hand automatically searched for someone to share it with.

It found no one.

So I smiled alone.

But slowly… something inside me began to change.

Maybe pain doesn’t disappear. Maybe it softens when love finds new corners.

Inayat became my anchor. She would wake up and immediately hug me, resting her tiny cheek on my belly.

“Mumma, baby kicked?” she would ask excitedly.

“Yes,” I’d laugh. “Baby likes you.”

She started telling stories to my stomach, sharing her school secrets, promising she would protect her sibling. When she held my hand in the park or insisted on sitting beside me while eating, I felt something healing inside me.

I wasn’t alone.

Ajay uncle treated me with quiet dignity. He would ask about my health, sit beside me during evening tea, and speak about random things so I wouldn’t overthink. Mrs. Raisinghania adjusted my pillows, reminded me about medicines, even scolded me gently when I skipped meals.

This house that once felt unfamiliar was slowly becoming steady ground.

And I… was slowly stepping out of grief.

I still missed Akash. Some memories would ache unexpectedly. But I was no longer drowning in that loss. I had cried enough to empty the storm. Now, I was learning to breathe between waves.

Sometimes I wondered about Veeresh.

Why did his eyes look tired even when he said nothing?
Why did I feel like he carried something heavier than anger?

He stayed distant, yet I never felt unsafe. Strange, isn’t it? To miss someone who never truly stayed close.

Maybe I didn’t miss his presence.
Maybe I missed the possibility of it.

But I made a quiet promise to myself — I would not beg for affection. I would not shrink myself to be accepted. If this marriage was destiny, it would unfold in its own time.

Until then, I would build my own strength.

For my child.
For Inayat.
For myself.

And perhaps… one day… for him too.

—

One line:
She stopped waiting for love to rescue her and began finding strength within herself.