Chapter 26

A Step Closer

The room was still heavy from their argument.

lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply as if smoke could organize the chaos inside him. Across the room, stood wiping her tears, her chest still rising unevenly from everything she had finally said.

“I don’t know what this is,” he admitted after a long silence. His voice had lost its sharpness. “I’m complicated. There’s a lot… you don’t know about me.”

She looked at him steadily. “Maybe. But pushing Inayat away was wrong.”

He didn’t argue.

Before either of them could say more, a small voice echoed from the staircase.

“Papa…”

Both of them turned.

Inayat stood there, eyes red from crying, clutching her soft toy.

Veeresh immediately crushed the cigarette into the tray.

Inayat ran toward him, throwing her arms around his waist. “I love you both, Papa.”

The word didn’t sound forced this time.

It sounded fragile.

He bent down and hugged her tightly, his hand gently stroking her hair. “I know,” he said softly. “Papa was just upset. I missed you.”

She pulled back slightly and kissed his cheek. “Don’t be upset. I’m here.”

For the first time that night, a faint smile appeared on his face.

“Sleep here tonight,” he told her.

Inayat’s face lit up. “Really?”

He lifted her into his arms effortlessly.

Poornima stood there watching them, something warm spreading through her chest. Not possession. Not victory.

Relief.

As she quietly turned to leave, his hand caught hers.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She looked startled.

“Come.”

He didn’t explain further. He simply held her hand — not forcefully, not possessively — but firmly enough to mean something.

He led her inside the penthouse bedroom and made Inayat lie down between them. The child fell asleep quickly, comforted by the presence of both.

Poornima adjusted the blanket and was about to step back.

“I’m hungry,” Veeresh said casually.

She blinked in surprise.

“Cook something.”

There was no arrogance in his tone — only normalcy.

She nodded and went downstairs. In the quiet kitchen, she prepared simple dal and chapathi. Nothing extravagant. Just warm food.

When she served him, he ate without complaint, without distraction.

As she picked up the plate to leave, he said quietly, “Your room is here. Why are you going downstairs?”

Her breath paused.

He finished eating and placed the plate aside. Then he walked toward the bedroom.

She followed slowly.

Inayat was asleep in the middle of the bed. Veeresh lay down on one side. After a hesitant second, Poornima lay down on the other.

The room felt different tonight.

Not distant.

Not divided.

Just quiet.

After a long pause, in the darkness, he spoke.

“I’ll try… to understand.”

It wasn’t a grand promise.

It wasn’t love.

But it was effort.

And sometimes, effort is where love begins.

Poornima smiled softly in the dark.

For the first time since coming here, she didn’t feel like an outsider upstairs.

One line:
Healing didn’t begin with love — it began with trying.