Chapter 52: A Son's Broken Heart

The next morning, the atmosphere in the haveli felt calmer than the previous day.

Everyone had gathered around the breakfast table.

Poornima was serving parathas while reminding Rhea to eat properly.

Veeresh was reading something on his phone.

Ritesh was teasing Zara.

Airav was drinking tea quietly.

For a few moments, it almost felt like a normal family morning.

Then Ajay put down his spoon.

His face was serious.

Too serious.

"Appa."

Veeresh looked up.

"Hmm?"

Ajay took a deep breath.

Then said the words.

"I am divorcing Naina."

The spoon slipped from Veeresh's hand and hit the plate with a loud sound.

The entire table fell silent.

Nobody moved.

Nobody spoke.

Poornima looked at Ajay in shock.

Rhea froze.

Zara looked down because she already knew.

Ritesh stopped eating.

Airav quietly closed his eyes.

Veeresh stared at his son.

As if he had heard something impossible.

"You what?"

His voice was barely above a whisper.

Ajay lowered his eyes.

The answer was already there.

Veeresh slowly pushed his chair back.

Nobody stopped him.

Nobody knew what to say.

Without speaking another word, he walked away from the table.

The sound of his footsteps echoed through the haveli.

Then silence.

Heavy silence.

Ajay sat there looking at his plate.

His eyes had become red.

Poornima looked at him for a moment.

Then she stood up.

"Zara."

Zara looked at her.

"Make sure Rhea finishes breakfast."

"Okay, Ma."

"Ritesh, stay with them."

He nodded.

Poornima looked towards the staircase.

Then back at Ajay.

"I'll come."

Ajay simply nodded.

A few minutes later, Poornima stood outside Ajay's room.

She knocked softly.

There was silence from inside.

Then a low voice.

"Come, Ma."

Poornima entered.

Ajay was sitting near the window.

Looking outside.

His eyes were wet.

But he was trying hard not to cry.

The moment Poornima saw him, her heart ached.

No matter how old children become, a mother's heart still sees their pain.

She quietly walked towards him.

Then sat beside him.

Neither spoke for a few moments.

Ajay looked away.

Embarrassed by the tears in his eyes.

Poornima gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Look at me."

Ajay didn't.

His lips trembled.

The next second tears rolled down his face.

The tears he had been holding back for months.

Poornima immediately moved closer.

Without saying anything she wiped his tears.

Just like she had done for Rhea.

Just like she would do for any of her children.

She handed him a glass of water.

"Drink."

Ajay obediently drank it.

His hands were shaking.

Poornima rubbed his back gently.

Waiting for him to calm down.

Not forcing him.

Not questioning him.

Just being there.

After a few minutes she spoke softly.

"Now tell me."

Ajay stared at the floor.

His voice came out broken.

"Appa told everyone I had the perfect marriage."

Poornima remained silent.

Listening.

"He was proud."

A painful smile appeared on his face.

"He always used to tell people his son married for love."

His eyes filled again.

"And now look at me."

Poornima squeezed his shoulder.

"Ajay."

He shook his head.

"No, Ma."

His voice cracked.

"I failed."

Poornima immediately turned towards him.

"No."

"I did."

He looked at her.

"You know what hurts?"

Fresh tears appeared.

"I still love her."

The confession broke something inside Poornima.

Because she knew that pain.

Loving someone and still losing them.

Ajay laughed bitterly.

"We tried."

"We really tried."

"Counselling."

"Conversations."

"Compromises."

"Everything."

His voice trembled.

"But somewhere along the way..."

He swallowed.

"We stopped being husband and wife."

Poornima listened quietly.

Every word carried months of pain.

Months of loneliness.

Months of pretending.

"We lived in the same house."

Ajay said softly.

"But it stopped feeling like home."

His eyes were fixed on the floor.

"We only fought."

"Every conversation became an argument."

"Every day became exhausting."

"And one day we realised..."

He stopped.

Unable to continue.

Poornima gently held his hand.

Ajay looked at her.

"We were only staying together because we were afraid of ending it."

The room became silent.

Only the sound of his breathing could be heard.

"I didn't want Appa to be disappointed."

His voice was barely audible.

"I didn't want him to think I gave up."

Poornima felt tears forming in her own eyes.

Because she could see how much guilt he carried.

How much blame he had placed on himself.

She cupped his face gently.

Making him look at her.

"Listen to me."

Ajay's eyes met hers.

"You did not fail."

A tear escaped his eye.

Poornima wiped it away.

"Sometimes two good people cannot live together."

"That doesn't make them bad."

"It doesn't make them failures."

Ajay closed his eyes.

Her words felt like a burden lifting from his shoulders.

Just a little.

Poornima continued softly.

"Did you try?"

"Yes."

"Did you give your marriage a chance?"

"Yes."

"Did you fight for it?"

Ajay nodded.

"I did."

"Then you didn't fail."

Her voice was firm.

"You tried."

For the first time, Ajay cried openly.

Like a son.

Not like a grown man trying to stay strong.

He lowered his head and Poornima immediately pulled him into a hug.

Ajay wrapped his arms around her tightly.

And cried.

Months of pain poured out.

Months of pretending everything was okay.

Months of carrying the burden alone.

Poornima simply held him.

Running her fingers through his hair.

The same way she had done with Zara.

The same way she had done with Rhea.

Because right now he didn't need advice.

He didn't need solutions.

He needed a mother.

After a long time, Ajay finally calmed down.

Poornima kissed his forehead.

Then smiled softly.

"Your Appa is shocked."

Ajay looked down.

"I know."

"He is not angry because of divorce."

Ajay looked up.

Poornima smiled sadly.

"He is hurting because his son is hurting."

The words made Ajay's eyes fill once again.

Because deep down, he knew she was right.

And somewhere else in the haveli, Veeresh Thakur sat alone with a heavy heart, wondering when his children had grown old enough to carry so much pain without telling him.