Chapter 60: A Father's Question

The next morning, the haveli was unusually quiet.

Poornima was still resting as per the doctor's instructions. For the first time in months, she wasn't the first person awake in the house.

Veeresh had completed the morning puja and checked on her twice already.

She was sleeping peacefully.

Only then did he feel relaxed enough to focus on something else.

Ajay.

His son had been carrying his own pain silently.

Veeresh realized that between Rhea's situation and Poornima's health scare, he had not truly sat down and spoken to him.

Not as a Sarpanch.

Not as the head of the family.

But as a father.

He found Ajay sitting alone in the courtyard with a cup of tea.

The early morning sunlight fell across his face.

Yet there was no peace in his eyes.

Only exhaustion.

Veeresh quietly sat beside him.

For a few moments, neither spoke.

Both stared ahead.

Father and son.

Two men carrying different wounds.

Finally Veeresh broke the silence.

"Ajay."

"Hmm, Appa?"

"Tell me everything."

Ajay lowered his eyes.

He knew exactly what his father meant.

The divorce.

The end of his marriage.

The pain he had hidden.

For a few moments, he simply stared at his untouched tea.

Then he sighed.

"Naina stopped loving me long ago, Appa."

The words came out quietly.

Without anger.

Without hatred.

Only sadness.

Veeresh listened.

His heart hurt hearing that.

"She wasn't happy."

Ajay continued.

"And I kept thinking things would get better."

He laughed bitterly.

"I kept waiting."

"For months."

"For years."

His voice cracked.

"But some relationships don't get fixed."

Veeresh remained silent.

Giving him space.

Ajay rubbed his face.

"I tried everything."

"Talking."

"Counselling."

"Giving her space."

"Understanding her."

"But she had already left the marriage in her heart."

His eyes became moist.

"And I was the only one still trying."

Veeresh felt a lump form in his throat.

Because he knew how painful that was.

To keep holding something when the other person had already let go.

Ajay looked away.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to disappoint you."

That sentence hurt Veeresh more than anything else.

Immediately he turned towards his son.

"Disappoint me?"

Ajay nodded.

"You always built everything."

"The village."

"The family."

"The respect."

"And I couldn't even save my marriage."

His voice broke.

"I felt like a failure."

The word echoed painfully.

Veeresh's expression softened.

For the first time he truly understood how much his son had been suffering.

All this time.

Alone.

Carrying guilt that never belonged to him.

A father's heart always hurts when his child suffers.

But it hurts even more when that child suffers silently.

Veeresh placed a hand on Ajay's shoulder.

"Look at me."

Ajay slowly did.

His eyes were red.

Veeresh spoke firmly.

"A failed marriage does not make you a failure."

Ajay stared at him.

"You hear me?"

His voice softened.

"You loved honestly."

"You tried honestly."

"You stayed honestly."

"What more could you do?"

Ajay's eyes filled with tears.

Because those were the words he had needed to hear.

For months.

Maybe years.

Veeresh continued.

"If one person stops fighting for the relationship, the other person cannot save it alone."

Ajay lowered his head.

A tear slipped down.

He quickly wiped it away.

But Veeresh had already seen it.

For a moment, the proud father disappeared.

And only a father remained.

He gently pulled Ajay closer.

Resting a hand on the back of his head.

Just like he used to when Ajay was a child.

The simple gesture broke whatever strength Ajay had left.

His shoulders shook.

"Appa..."

His voice cracked.

Veeresh closed his eyes.

Hearing that pain.

Feeling it.

Sharing it.

"It hurts."

Ajay admitted.

"Of course it hurts."

Veeresh's own voice was emotional.

"You loved her."

Ajay nodded.

Fresh tears falling.

For the next few moments neither spoke.

The silence itself carried their emotions.

Eventually Veeresh asked softly,

"What do you want now?"

Ajay looked ahead.

Thinking carefully.

For the first time in a long time.

Not about the past.

But about the future.

After several moments he answered.

"I want peace, Appa."

His voice was tired.

"I don't want anger."

"I don't want revenge."

"I don't want to prove anyone wrong."

He swallowed.

"I just want peace."

Veeresh listened quietly.

Ajay continued.

"I want to heal."

"I want to focus on myself."

"On my work."

"On my daughter."

A small smile appeared.

"And on family."

The last word carried deep meaning.

Because during his darkest days, family had remained.

His father.

Poornima.

Rhea.

Ritesh.

Zara.

Airav.

Everyone.

They had stood beside him.

Veeresh nodded slowly.

A feeling of pride filled his chest.

Not because his son was successful.

Not because of his achievements.

But because despite being hurt, he had not become bitter.

That required strength.

Real strength.

Veeresh squeezed his shoulder.

"You'll be okay."

Ajay smiled sadly.

"I hope so."

Veeresh looked towards the balcony upstairs.

Towards the room where Poornima was resting.

Then back at his son.

"No."

His voice was certain.

"You will be."

For the first time that morning, Ajay's smile became genuine.

Small.

But genuine.

And as father and son sat together in the quiet courtyard, both understood something important.

Life had wounded them.

In different ways.

But wounds heal better when family stands beside you.

And in that moment, neither of them had to carry their pain alone anymore.