The wedding hall buzzed with whispers.

Guests shuffled nervously, the priest looked restless, and Veeresh’s parents stood pale.

The bride, Meera, had not shown up.

Relatives gossiped in hurried tones. “How could this happen?” “The Rathores’ name is at stake.” “What will Veeresh do?”

But Veeresh?

He sat calmly in his room, cigarette balanced between his fingers, smoke curling into the air. His sharp jaw betrayed no tension, his dark eyes unreadable.

When his parents entered with heavy faces, Veeresh simply exhaled a lazy puff.

“I’m sorry, son,” his father said quietly. “But Meera’s family betrayed us.”

His mother’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “But… maybe this is fate. Maybe… maybe Poornima is the one. You two grew up together. She’s smart, she’s grounded. We love her like our own daughter.”

Her father hesitated, but then said softly, “If she agrees… we will proceed.”

For the first time that evening, Veeresh smiled — a small, dangerous, knowing smile.

“Leave it to me,” he said, rising.

---

Poornima stood outside the hall, her heart already heavy seeing the commotion. When she felt a tug on her arm, she turned — only to find Veeresh.

“Come with me,” he ordered.

Confused, she followed him into the room. He shut the door and turned, holding out a deep green saree — the one he had once secretly chosen for her.

“Wear this.”

Poornima blinked, stunned. “What?”

“We’re getting married,” Veeresh said flatly, as if stating the weather.

Her lips parted. “Have you lost your mind? Veeresh, this is your wedding day—”

“Yes,” he cut her off, his voice low, commanding. “And it will still be my wedding day. Only the bride changes. You.”

Her hands trembled. “But… my parents—”

“They already agreed.” He stepped closer, his gaze locking hers. “They are happy.”

She shook her head, overwhelmed. “I… I can’t, Veeresh…”

He leaned closer, his eyes dark, his tone edged with steel. “One more word of refusal, Poornima, and I swear I’ll drag you to that mandap myself. Don’t test me.”

Her breath hitched. One glare from him was enough — it silenced every doubt.

With shaky hands, she took the saree. Slowly, nervously, she began to drape it. Veeresh’s eyes softened for a fleeting second as he watched her.

When she was ready, he extended his hand.

“Come.”

And with that, Veeresh Rathore walked her straight to the mandap — where destiny awaited.