Chapter 17

The room had grown quieter.

The clink of glass against glass had slowed, the rhythm of their drinking no longer casual but heavy with something unspoken.

Poornima sat with her legs folded slightly to the side, the glass in her hand, her gaze unfocused. The alcohol had softened her edges, but it hadn’t made her careless.

It had made her honest.

She turned her head slightly, looking at him.

“Do you have parents, Veeresh?”

The question came suddenly, but her tone was calm.

“Yes,” he replied.

She studied him for a second.

“Did you have their love?”

He understood the question beneath the question.

Still, his answer remained steady.

“Yes. My parents love us equally.”

A small pause.

“My father is strict,” he added. “Discipline matters to him. Enjoy your life, but be home on time. That’s all he ever asked. He never forced us into anything.”

Poornima listened.

Quietly.

Then she took a sip.

“Lucky fellow,” she said, almost under her breath.

Veeresh didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he poured a little less into her glass this time, watching her carefully.

He wanted to know.

Not just hear.

“What about you, eletem?” he asked.

She let out a soft breath.

“Unlucky.”

A faint smile appeared on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’m not fair,” she said. “I’m dusky.”

She looked at her glass, turning it slightly in her fingers.

“My mom used to mock me for it. A lot. Not loudly. Not in front of others. But enough for me to feel it every single day.”

Her voice didn’t break.

It stayed steady.

And that made it heavier.

“She would scold me for small things… compare me without saying it directly. I used to stand there and listen.”

A pause.

“I felt bad,” she admitted. “But I never showed it. I never let it break me in front of them.”

She took another sip.

“Then my sister was born.”

Her lips curved slightly, but there was bitterness in it.

“She was fair.”

A quiet exhale.

“And suddenly… everything changed.”

She picked up a chip, but didn’t eat it immediately.

“She was treated like something precious. Like someone worth celebrating.”

Her eyes lowered.

“I was sent away.”

That made Veeresh’s gaze sharpen.

“Boarding school,” she continued. “She was homeschooled. Kept close. Protected.”

She finally ate the chip, slowly.

“I don’t remember celebrating a single birthday at home,” she said. “I used to wait for them to visit. Every time there was a visiting day… I would stand there, watching other children run into their parents’ arms.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

“They would smile, hug them, bring food… talk… laugh.”

A pause.

“I would just stand there.”

Her voice softened.

“They never came.”

Silence filled the room.

“I stayed in boarding until I finished school. I didn’t even know I had a brother.”

Veeresh didn’t move.

Didn’t interrupt.

“When I finally went back home…” she continued, “do you know what my father said?”

He looked at her.

“Was he happy?”

She let out a small, hollow laugh.

“In dreams.”

Her eyes met his.

“He looked at me and said… why did you come back?”

The words settled heavily between them.

“My sister didn’t like it. My mother didn’t care.”

A pause.

“But my brother…”

For the first time, something softer appeared in her expression.

“I bonded with him. He was the only one who… saw me.”

She drank again.

“So I left again,” she said. “Took part time jobs. Stayed in a hostel. Went to London.”

Her fingers tapped lightly against the glass.

“I chose literature.”

A faint smile.

“But my father came there.”

Her jaw tightened slightly.

“In front of everyone… he slapped me.”

Veeresh’s expression hardened instantly.

“He forced me into business studies. Said I had no right to choose.”

She inhaled slowly.

“So I did both.”

A pause.

“I was tired of proving myself to him.”

Her voice dropped.

“Tired of trying to be enough.”

Silence.

“So I left.”

She looked straight ahead now.

“He threatened me. Cut me off.”

A small shrug.

“I still chose literature.”

Her fingers brushed against the book lying nearby.

“Because it made me… happy.”

A quiet moment passed.

“I started reading more. Writing more.”

She looked at him.

“Mannat.”

A faint smile.

“That’s me.”

Veeresh didn’t say anything.

He just watched her.

“My brother is the only person I’m close to,” she continued. “He’s in army training now. He visits whenever he can.”

Her voice softened again.

“But sometimes…”

A pause.

“I hate myself.”

That made his gaze tighten.

“For being dusky,” she said quietly.

She took another sip.

“Akash Jindal,” she added suddenly, her tone shifting slightly. “That bastard… he’s darker than me.”

A bitter laugh escaped her.

“But he rejected me… saying I’m dusky.”

She shook her head.

“One day, I’ll pour black color on his face.”

A small, drunken frustration in her voice.

Then it faded.

“I won’t be like my parents,” she said, softer now. “Not with my kids.”

Her fingers loosened around the glass.

“I want them to feel loved.”

A pause.

“I want to know how it feels too.”

Her eyes lowered.

“I want parents’ love…”

Her voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“But I don’t have it.”

Silence filled the room completely.

No sound.

No movement.

Just her words, lingering.

Raw.

Unfiltered.

Real.

And for the first time—

Veeresh Raj didn’t see her as just calm, controlled, unshaken.

He saw the weight she carried.

The emptiness she had learned to live with.

The strength she had built out of being left behind.

And something in him—

Shifted.