The morning sun slanted through the curtains, painting gold streaks across the floor. Poornima stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, eyes blazing with a storm that had been building for years.

“Get out,” she said, her voice trembling with anger and hurt.

Veeresh leaned against the doorway, arms folded, his expression unreadable but his eyes burning with intensity. “No. I am not going anywhere.”

Poornima’s hands shook as she stepped closer, voice rising. “Still here… just to hurt me? To show me my place? To remind me of my birth status?”

Her chest heaved, tears welling up. “Do you know what I’ve lived with my entire life? I am the daughter of my father’s mistress, not royal blood. My own father abandoned me. School, college… even when I tried to build my own identity, people crushed me.”

Veeresh’s jaw tightened, but she wasn’t done. Her hand grabbed the front of his coat, shaking him as she poured out years of pain.

“Did I ask for this marriage, Veeresh?” she shouted. “Did I ask for you to come, put a ring on me, and then make me yours? Even when I told your parents everything, they went ahead anyway! And you—you knew! You knew, yet you humiliated me! The love I craved my whole life… I thought marriage would change it, make it better. But no! Everything is broken now!”

Her voice broke, sobs rattling her chest as she stepped back, pulling away from him. “I don’t know how to put myself together now. How to be me again!”

Veeresh opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, voice trembling but resolute. “Now… please. Leave me. Before I go mad. Just leave me.”

For the first time, Veeresh was silent. His hands clenched at his sides, his mind a war between pride, desire, and guilt. He stared at the woman he had claimed, the woman he wanted more than anything, and for the first time, he realized that words could break her in ways even he couldn’t repair.

Poornima turned, retreating toward her room, tears streaming freely. The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving Veeresh alone, the echo of her pain pressing against his chest like a physical weight.

He had crossed a line—and now he had to face the storm he had created.