Chapter 40: The Distance Between Them

Poornima spent the entire day at school trying to focus on her students.

She smiled when the children answered correctly.

She praised them when they worked hard.

She explained lessons with the same patience she always had.

To everyone around her, she looked normal.

But inside, she wasn't.

Every time her mind became quiet, the memory returned.

"I love Janaki."

She hated that it still hurt.

She hated that a single sentence had managed to shake the happiness she had carefully built over the last few months.

So she did what she always did.

She pushed the thought away.

Focused on work.

Focused on children.

Focused on anything except her own heart.

When the final bell rang, the students slowly left the school.

Poornima gathered her things and walked outside.

The moment she stepped out of the gate, she froze.

Veeresh was standing there.

Leaning against his Bullet.

Waiting.

His arms were folded across his chest.

The moment he saw her, he straightened.

Their eyes met.

For a second neither spoke.

Then Poornima walked toward him.

"Thakur ji..."

Veeresh simply looked at her.

Then said,

"Sit."

She blinked.

"Where are we going?"

"You will know."

That was all he said.

Poornima quietly sat behind him.

The Bullet roared to life.

They left the school and rode through the village roads.

Neither spoke much.

The silence between them wasn't comfortable today.

It carried questions.

Feelings.

Things left unsaid.

As the village disappeared behind them, Poornima realized they were heading toward the outskirts.

Fields stretched endlessly on both sides.

The evening breeze carried the smell of soil and crops.

Finally they stopped near a farmhouse.

Poornima looked around.

The place was peaceful.

Far away from people.

Far away from interruptions.

Far away from the world.

She turned toward him.

"Where are we going, Thakur ji?"

Veeresh parked the Bullet and replied,

"We are here."

He opened the farmhouse door and walked inside.

Poornima followed him.

The place was simple.

Clean.

Comfortable.

Used occasionally whenever Veeresh stayed near the farms.

After a few moments, Veeresh looked at her and said,

"Prepare something."

Poornima looked surprised.

"What?"

"I am hungry."

Then he added quietly,

"And I did not eat."

Poornima frowned.

"You didn't eat lunch?"

"No."

"Why?"

Veeresh looked at her for a moment.

Then said simply,

"Didn't feel like it."

For some reason that answer made her heart tighten.

She immediately turned toward the kitchen.

"Okay."

The farmhouse kitchen was small but well-stocked.

Poornima rolled up her sleeves and began cooking.

Simple food.

Fresh rotis.

Dal.

A vegetable curry.

Rice.

Nothing elaborate.

Just warm homemade food.

The kind Veeresh liked.

As she cooked, she could feel his presence outside.

Neither of them was speaking.

Yet both were thinking about the same thing.

The distance that had appeared between them.

An hour later, lunch was ready.

Poornima placed everything on the table.

Then quietly said,

"Come."

Veeresh entered.

He sat down.

Poornima served him without saying much.

The way she always did.

The same care.

The same attention.

Yet something felt missing.

The smile.

The ease.

The warmth in her eyes.

Veeresh noticed it immediately.

He picked up a piece of roti and started eating.

Poornima sat opposite him.

Watching silently.

The room was quiet except for the sounds of plates and spoons.

Finally Veeresh looked up.

His eyes rested on her face.

She looked away immediately.

And that hurt more than any argument could have.

Because Poornima had never looked away from him before.

Never.

Veeresh continued eating.

Finished every bite she had prepared.

Not because he was hungry.

Though he was.

But because he knew she had cooked it.

And because somewhere inside him, he was trying to understand what had happened.

Why his wife suddenly seemed so far away.

Why her smile no longer reached her eyes.

And why, despite sitting only a few feet from him, she felt farther than she ever had before.

While outside, the evening sun slowly disappeared behind the fields, leaving the farmhouse wrapped in a silence that neither of them knew how to break.