Chapter Sixty-One: The Pain She Never Spoke

The drive back to the Rathore palace in was silent—heavy, suffocating, filled with everything that had just happened.

Veeresh didn’t speak.

Poornima didn’t either.

Their hands remained intertwined the entire way.

Not loose.

Not hesitant.

Firm.

As if letting go would break something neither of them was ready to face.

The moment they entered the palace, Veeresh didn’t stop.

Didn’t greet anyone.

Didn’t slow down.

He walked straight to their room.

The door shut behind them with a quiet thud.

Within seconds, he was on the balcony, lighting a cigarette, his movements sharp, restless.

The flame flickered against the darkness, his jaw tight, his entire body carrying the anger he hadn’t released yet.

He took a long drag.

Exhaled.

But it didn’t calm him.

It didn’t even come close.

Poornima stood at the door for a moment, watching him.

Then slowly, she walked toward him.

She placed her hand gently on his arm.

“It’s okay…” she said softly.

“Be calm.”

He let out a short, almost bitter breath.

“I can’t.”

His voice was raw now.

Unfiltered.

“I’m not this calm, Poornima.”

And that was when it broke.

Not him.

Her.

Her fingers tightened slightly on his arm, and before she could stop herself—

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

Quiet at first.

Then uncontrollable.

Veeresh turned immediately.

His anger didn’t disappear—

But it shifted.

Because now—

It wasn’t about Ridhima.

It was about her.

And he didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t stop her.

He just… let her speak.

“It hurt me…” she said, her voice breaking, her words struggling to come out between breaths.

“When she said that…”

A pause.

As if she had been holding this in for years—

And didn’t know where to begin.

“From childhood…” she continued, her voice trembling,

“I never had him.”

Her father.

Not as a presence.

Not as a memory.

Just… a void.

“Every school function… Father’s Day…” she wiped her tears, but they didn’t stop,

“I used to go to him… with cards… gifts…”

Her lips trembled.

“And he…”

She couldn’t finish for a second.

Then she forced it out.

“He slapped me.”

The words landed heavy.

“Said… ‘you’re not mine.’”

Veeresh’s fists clenched instantly.

His jaw tightening so hard it hurt.

But he didn’t interrupt.

Because she wasn’t done.

“Do you know what it feels like?” she asked, her voice cracking, her eyes filled with years of unshed pain.

“When people call you… a bastard?”

The word broke out of her like something she hated even saying.

“I blamed my mom…” she continued, shaking her head, her tears falling freely now.

“She shouldn’t have loved him… she shouldn’t have…”

Her voice faded.

Because even that anger—

Wasn’t complete.

Because she loved her mother too.

“I tried…” she whispered, her voice dropping, fragile,

“I tried many times to end my life…”

Veeresh’s head snapped toward her.

But she kept going.

“…because how long can someone bear this?”

The question wasn’t for him.

It was something she had asked herself… again and again.

“But something stopped me…” she said, her hand pressing lightly against her chest,

“something kept saying… prove yourself.”

And she did.

Through everything.

Through pain.

Through rejection.

Through loneliness.

“That’s what I think I did…” she said, her voice softer now, but still shaking.

“Ravi… Gayathri…” her lips curved faintly through tears,

“They were always there.”

Her constants.

Her safe place.

“They know me… like an open book.”

And then—

Her expression changed.

The pain deepened.

“I just…” she paused, her breath uneven,

“…wish no one gets a father like him.”

A tear rolled down slowly.

“He is the worst father.”

That was it.

No more holding back.

No more strength.

She broke.

Completely.

Her shoulders shook, her face buried slightly as years of pain poured out—not controlled, not hidden anymore.

And Veeresh—

He stood there, watching her.

Not as the strong woman the world saw.

Not as the composed partner he knew.

But as a girl…

Who had been hurting her entire life.

And for the first time—

He saw all of it.

Not in fragments.

Not in hints.

But completely.