She Belongs to Me

The warehouse was dimly lit, the smell of cement and diesel in the air. Veeresh stood tall at the center of the negotiation table, dressed in his sharp navy-blue suit, calm but intimidating. The deal was nearing closure — just one signature away.

Saif Khan, the man with a smug smirk, leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass of whiskey, eyes gleaming with mockery.

> “You know, Veeresh,” Saif drawled. “You’ve got a beautiful wife. A real dream girl. Every man’s fantasy. But…”

He smirked, “She gets scared of a little gunfire. What kind of queen is that, huh?”

Veeresh’s jaw tightened. His knuckles cracked as he held back.

Saif continued, cruel amusement in his voice.

> “Useless in this world of fire and bullets. A soft doll to keep at home. Nothing more.”

That was it.

Without a word, Veeresh stood, walked calmly toward Saif — and then bam — slapped him hard across the face.

The warehouse fell into stunned silence.

Before Saif could react, Veeresh grabbed him by the collar, punched him across the jaw, once, twice, thrice, the sound of fists echoing louder than gunshots.

> “Don’t you dare,” Veeresh growled, voice like thunder, eyes blazing with fury, “utter her name with your filthy mouth.”

> “She is my woman. Mine.”

He yanked Saif closer, face inches away.

> “Poornima. Rathore.”

“Whether she’s scared of a gun, or owns the damn world — she’s mine. Every breath, every heartbeat, every tear belongs to me.”

> “You talk about her again, Saif, and you’ll beg for death.”

He released him with one final shove. Saif stumbled back, blood on his lip, fear in his eyes.

Veeresh fixed his cuffs slowly, voice calm but cold.

> “The deal’s off. And next time you breathe near her, remember my name — Veeresh Rathore.”

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As he walked away, his mind wasn’t on the deal anymore. It was on her — the woman who feared the sound of gunshots, but had a heart so pure and strong that it moved even a man like him.

He pulled out his phone, saw her picture again. She was laughing, unaware of how fiercely loved she truly was.

> “You’re mine, Poornima. And no one touches what’s mine.”

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