𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓣𝓸 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 ♾️

✨BROKEN BUT NOT DEFEATED-CHAPTER-20

My throat burned. I clenched my jaw.

"Please... don't look at me," I prayed silently.

She sighed. I heard it. That small breath that said she understood more than I could say.

She placed two plates in front of us. One with two dosas and chutney shaped into a small circle like she always does. The other had an extra spoon of ghee on it. Mine.

But I couldn't eat. I couldn't even breathe.

And then...

Her hand cupped my cheek.

Warm. Gentle. Unshaking.

"Karthik," she whispered. No anger. No drama. Just my name—like it was the most sacred word she knew.

I looked up.

And her eyes—oh God, her eyes—were already brimming with tears she hadn't let fall yet.

I broke.

The dam cracked.

And the flood came.

I dropped the plate from my hand, pushed it away and fell into her chest, my arms wrapping around her waist tight, my face buried into the cotton of her nightgown.

And I cried.

Not like a man. Not like a husband.

I cried like a son who had been slapped by life too many times. Like a boy who held dreams too fragile for this cruel world.

She held me. Her fingers stroked my hair. Her other hand cradled the back of my neck like she was protecting it from all the words thrown at me today.

"It's okay..." she whispered. "I'm here,nga . I saw you. I heard them. But I saw you."

I couldn't speak. I just pressed myself closer to her.

My face was still buried in her chest, and her fingers moved slowly through my hair—no rush, no words, just that soft rhythm that made me feel like a child again. Like I was small and scared and hiding from thunder. Only this time, it wasn't thunder I was hiding from.

It was shame.

It was the voices in that hall. I didn't realize how long I cried. I didn't care. Her heartbeat was steady against my cheek. I held her tighter. I didn't want to let go—not tonight. Not ever.

She didn't speak. She didn't try to rush me out of the breakdown. She waited. Let me fall apart gently in her arms.

When I finally pulled away, my eyes were swollen. My throat felt like it had been scraped raw. My voice came out hoarse, broken, like someone trying to learn to speak again.

And today, all that weight collapsed.

In front of her.

"I thought I made peace with it," I choked, voice muffled against her chest. "I thought I was okay being called poor, average... but when they said it in front of you, when they spoke about you like that—like you were less for choosing me—something inside me snapped, Nithya."

She just rubbed my back. No interruption. No trying to fix me quickly. Just presence. Just love.

"I wanted to earn the world for you, Nithu," I whispered, "I wanted to build a house, give you a gold chain for every insult they throw, make you walk in silks while they burn with shame. But look at me. I'm still here. Still small. Still that same boy with a rented house and a salary that can't afford dreams."

Her hand tilted my face up, and her eyes locked into mine.

"Look at me properly," her voice trembling but strong. "Do you see any shame? Any regret?"