The world had gone silent. The only sound left in Veeresh’s ears was the shrill, endless tone of the monitor that declared the unthinkable. His best friend—his brother—was gone.

He stood frozen, staring at Pavan’s lifeless body, his chest heaving but refusing to release a cry. His fists clenched around the folder of documents Pavan had forced into his hands. That weight felt heavier than the world itself.

For a man who had built empires and struck fear into industries, Veeresh Rathore had never known defeat. But here, in the sterile walls of a hospital room, he had lost the one battle that mattered most.

A single tear slid down his cheek. He brushed it away angrily, but another followed, and then another. His shoulders shook, and for the first time in years, Veeresh broke—silently, painfully—beside the body of the man who had been his shadow since childhood.

At the same time, in the maternity ward, Poornima sat with a book resting in her lap, one hand absently caressing her six-month belly. She had been smiling, whispering to her unborn child about its father’s return soon.

But when the door opened and she saw Veeresh standing there, something inside her froze. His presence was sharp, commanding as always, yet tonight his eyes carried a storm she had never seen before. His silence spoke before his lips did.

Her hands trembled. “Where’s Pavan?”

Veeresh tried to speak, but his throat closed. The folder slipped from his grip, scattering papers across the floor. His eyes met hers—red, hollow, broken.

Poornima’s heart pounded wildly. “No…” Her voice cracked. “No, Veeresh… tell me it’s not—”

He lowered his gaze, unable to say the words. And in that moment, Poornima understood. Her world collapsed around her.

A strangled sob tore from her chest. She clutched her belly, rocking back and forth as if her grief could shield the child from this unbearable truth. Her cries filled the room, raw and endless, echoing against walls that suddenly felt too small to contain such sorrow.

Veeresh stood there, helpless, watching the woman his best friend loved unravel before his eyes. He wanted to comfort her, but he felt unworthy—like an intruder in her grief. And yet, deep down, the echo of Pavan’s last words throbbed in his heart:

Don’t leave Poornima and my baby. Take care of them as your own.

Veeresh closed his eyes, gripping his fists tighter. He had made a promise. And Veeresh Rathore never broke his promises.