Chapter 30: Words That Hurt, Truth That Stayed

Veeresh watched her from a distance for a while.

She sat with the children, completely absorbed in them, as if the rest of the room did not exist.

Something about that bothered him.

Not her care.

Not her presence.

But the distance.

He walked toward her.

“Come to the room,” he said.

Poornima did not look up immediately.

“I cannot,” she replied quietly.

Veeresh’s jaw tightened slightly.

“Do you want me to lift you and take you?” he asked, his tone low but firm.

She finally looked at him.

A brief pause.

“I will come,” she said.

“Good.”

He turned and walked ahead.

She followed after a few seconds.

Once inside, he closed the door.

The sound echoed more than it should have.

Before she could move further, he stepped closer and cornered her gently against the wall.

“Why did you not wake me up?” he asked.

Poornima looked at him, her expression calm but distant.

“I did not want to,” she said.

The answer was simple.

But it hit him harder than expected.

Veeresh exhaled slowly, then spoke again.

“From tomorrow, my suit, my tea, breakfast, dinner, everything. You will prepare.”

Poornima frowned slightly.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

His eyes held hers.

“Because you are not taking this marriage seriously, Mrs. Veeresh.”

The name did not feel like belonging.

It felt like pressure.

“And because you did not wake me,” he added.

She let out a small, disbelieving breath.

Before she could respond, his tone shifted.

“If you hate me,” he said, “then why are you taking care of my daughter like this?”

The words came out sharper than intended.

“I can take care of her,” he continued. “She is mine. You can leave if you want.”

Poornima froze.

That sentence broke something.

“And why are you taking tablets for lactation?” he added, frustration still clouding his tone.

Her eyes filled instantly.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Veeresh realized it.

Too late.

“I…” he paused, his expression shifting. “I am sorry.”

His voice lowered.

“I said that in anger. She is our daughter.”

But the damage had already reached her.

Poornima did not respond.

Tears slipped down her cheeks quietly.

Veeresh stepped closer and held her shoulders lightly.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice more urgent now. “Am I talking to a wall? I am talking to you.”

She looked at him.

Finally.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asked, her voice breaking. “You just said she is your daughter. Now why this change?”

“I told you,” he said, “it was in anger. And you are not talking to me.”

She let out a bitter breath.

“I am not talking because you forced this marriage.”

The truth stood between them.

Clear.

Unavoidable.

Veeresh held her gaze.

“If I forced you,” he said slowly, “then why did you give her milk? Why did you take all this responsibility?”

For a second, Poornima just stared at him.

Then something in her broke into words.

“You are such a fool,” she said, her voice shaking.

Her words were not soft anymore.

“They brought Mannat to my house one day to play with Aryan,” she continued. “She suddenly became weak and fainted.”

Her breathing grew uneven as she spoke.

“I and Ayesha Ammi rushed her to the hospital. Your mother came there too.”

Veeresh’s expression changed.

“The doctor said she has low immunity,” Poornima went on. “Because she did not have mother’s milk for one year.”

Her tears did not stop now.

“So I took those tablets,” she said. “No one forced me. I did it because every child has the right to be healthy.”

Her voice softened slightly.

“She has been drinking since that day.”

A pause.

“And you got to know now.”

The silence that followed was heavy with realization.

Pain.

Truth.

Poornima wiped her tears quickly.

“I and Aryan will leave,” she said suddenly. “You live happily.”

She turned to go.

But Veeresh caught her wrist and pulled her back gently but firmly.

“No,” he said.

His voice was no longer harsh.

“I told you, it was in anger.”

Poornima looked at him, her eyes still wet, her emotions raw.

“If you ever say something like that again,” she said, her voice trembling but strong, “I will not tolerate it.”

A pause.

“I mean it.”

Her words were not just anger.

They were a boundary.

A warning.

Veeresh did not interrupt.

He simply stood there, holding her hand,

Realizing that for the first time,

He was not controlling the situation.

He was facing it.

And for the first time,

He understood

That she was not someone he could push.

She was someone he had to understand.