The evening light slanted softly across Poornima’s apartment. She sat on the edge of her bed, knees drawn to her chest, tears streaming freely. The room was silent, except for the quiet sobs that wracked her body. Every breath felt heavy, every thought pierced by the echo of Veeresh’s words from yesterday.

She had hoped—perhaps foolishly—that some part of him would understand, that he would leave her alone to heal. But now, news arrived like a cold dagger to her chest.

“Veeresh Raj’s wedding… announced. The bride yet to be revealed,” the message read.

Her hands trembled as she read the words again and again. A hollow emptiness spread through her chest. I deserve this… she whispered, the bitter truth sinking in. He will marry a royal heir. Someone worthy. Not me.

The walls of her room seemed to close in as she crumpled, crying out in despair. The dreams she had clung to, the hope that marriage might heal her scars or give her belonging—they felt like shards now, cutting into her from every side.

Across town, in the palace, Veeresh stood in the grand hall, his expression unreadable. A plan had formed in his mind—a way to set everything right, or so he told himself. But the truth was rawer than he admitted: he had broken her beyond repair.

Announcing the wedding, keeping the bride hidden—it was his way to protect her from the world, to manipulate the narrative, to make amends in his own way. Yet he did not realize that with every word of that announcement, he had shattered her more than any public insult, any private argument, any harsh truth ever could.

Poornima’s sobs echoed into the night, a sound Veeresh could not hear but would soon feel in the silence he had created around himself. She had loved, she had hoped—and now, all that remained was the ache of what had been taken from her.

The pieces of her heart were scattered across her room, and for the first time, she truly felt the weight of being invisible, abandoned, and betrayed.