: In the Name of Shiva and Parvati

The morning air was cool, kissed with the scent of incense and early marigold.

The black stone temple of Shiva and Parvati stood quietly, ancient yet welcoming, bathed in soft sunlight.

Poornima stepped out of the car, her saree rustling gently as she adjusted her pallu.

Veeresh, in his navy-blue suit, stepped beside her, face stoic, eyes unreadable.

They walked up the steps together — husband and wife.

The temple bell rang just as they entered.

A priest, elderly and smiling, greeted them.

> “Newly married?” he asked with a soft tone.

Veeresh looked at Poornima, then back at the priest and gave a short nod.

> “Yes.”

The priest smiled wider.

> “Then fill her maang before Bholenath and Parvati Mata. Let your bond begin here.”

Without hesitation, Veeresh took the small silver box of sindoor offered by the priest.

Poornima lowered her head slightly.

And in front of gods who represented eternal love and destruction — he filled her maang again.

She closed her eyes, whispering a silent promise in her heart:

> "Let me be his peace in the fire he walks."

They sat together for the puja. The mantras echoed. Flowers were offered.

For a rare moment, Veeresh had his palms joined — eyes shut.

---

After the Temple

As they walked down the steps, Poornima looked calmer, blessed. She smiled faintly at Veeresh.

He noticed — didn’t say a word.

The car pulled up.

> “I’ll drop you at the hospital,” he said curtly.

She nodded.

Once they reached, she opened the door but paused.

> “I’ll see you at home,” he said, eyes still on the road ahead.

Poornima stepped out slowly.

Before entering the hospital gates, she paused, turned to the sky, and whispered:

> “Keep him safe, God. He’s rough. But I can feel… something burns in him. Please keep him alive.”

---

Hospital Hours

She changed into her nurse uniform, folding the saree neatly.

Her hands moved like routine — cleaning wounds, giving medicine, smiling at children — but her heart still lingered on the image of Veeresh at the temple.

---

Elsewhere… The World of Veeresh Rathore

A dark warehouse.

Crates. Guns. Bundles of cash.

Veeresh stood with his guards, towering over men in suits. A deal.

Loyalty was being tested. Weapons exchanged.

A man — younger, cocky — leaned in and whispered,

> “So… you got married? To Zain Singh’s daughter. People say she’s beautiful. How is she?”

That was the moment the air turned cold.

Veeresh’s bloodshot eyes turned toward him.

> “Don’t talk about my wife.”

Everyone fell silent.

> “If anyone talks about her again,” Veeresh said slowly, lighting a cigarette, “I’ll cut their tongue out. Understood?”

The deal ended. Cash exchanged. Silence restored.

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