The next morning, sunlight spilled through the palace windows as Poornima stepped downstairs in a soft pastel saree. Her face was calm, unreadable—her heart still wrapped in walls she refused to let Veeresh break.

Sharada and Abhimanyu were already seated at the long breakfast table, their smiles warm when Poornima greeted them politely. She sat between them, seeking comfort in their quiet presence. Moments later, Veeresh walked in, freshly dressed, his eyes instantly finding hers.

Without hesitation, he sat beside her. The closeness was suffocating, yet electrifying.

“Poornima,” Veeresh said casually, his tone masking something deeper, “serve me breakfast.”

Before Poornima could respond, Sharada’s voice cut through the air. “You have hands, Veeresh. Serve yourself.”

A small flicker of pride touched Poornima’s lips, but she quickly masked it. Veeresh smirked faintly, picked up the serving spoons, and placed food onto his plate without another word.

The silence was thick, broken only by the clinking of cutlery. Poornima ate with composed grace, her face showing no emotion. Every move was precise, controlled, as though she had locked her feelings away in a vault.

But Veeresh leaned slightly toward her, his voice low, meant only for her ears.

“I’ll get feelings out of you soon, Mrs. Raj.”

Her hand froze for a second on the spoon, but she didn’t look at him. She kept eating, her mask intact.

Breakfast ended with polite words exchanged with Sharada and Abhimanyu. Veeresh and Poornima then rose from the table, walking side by side yet miles apart, before heading off to their respective workplaces.

For everyone else, it was just another day. But for Veeresh and Poornima, it was the beginning of a silent war—his determination against her walls.