Veeresh carried Poornima into their room, his eyes burning with a fire she had never seen before. He laid her on the bed, his grip firm as if she would disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he yanked at her saree, his breath hot against her skin as his lips crashed onto hers.

“Tell me,” he whispered between bruising kisses, his voice rough, commanding. “What is your name, jaan?”

Poornima’s heart raced, her breath trembling. “P–Poornima Shekhawat Rathore…”

Veeresh smirked, shaking his head slowly. He gripped her chin, forcing her eyes to lock with his.

“That’s what the world calls you. But I’m not the world.” His voice dropped lower, darker. “I’m your husband. I’m the man who owns every tear, every smile, every heartbeat. Now… what is your name?”

Her lips quivered, but the fire in his gaze burned away her hesitation. She whispered, voice breaking with emotion—

“Poornima Veeresh Rathore.”

Veeresh’s smirk widened into something dangerous, something possessive. He slammed his lips onto hers, kissing her so deeply that she gasped into his mouth, clinging to him helplessly.

“That’s it,” he growled against her lips. “Say it again. Let the world vanish, let Pavan’s memory, Ritika’s poison, all of it burn away. Say who you belong to.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but her voice was steady now.

“I am… Poornima Veeresh Rathore. Yours.”

He kissed her hard, almost punishingly, before pulling back just enough to press his forehead to hers.

“I am not a good man, Poornima,” he rasped. “I’m dark. Ruthless. People fear me for a reason. But in my darkness—you’re the only light I see. And don’t you ever… ever… think of divorce again. Do you understand?”

“I… I understand,” she whispered, her hands clutching his shirt desperately.

His eyes flickered with something primal. “Are you on pills?”

Confused, she shook her head. “No…”

“Good,” Veeresh growled, his hand pressing firmly over her belly. “Then this womb will carry my child. A child who will be proof that you are mine. Always mine. And the world will know you as my wife—the only woman Veeresh Rathore bows to.”

Her tears fell, but this time they were of release—every doubt, every pain vanishing as his words seared into her soul. She kissed him back with a fire of her own, letting him claim her completely.

“Say it again,” Veeresh demanded harshly, his lips tracing her jaw, her neck. “Whose are you?”

“I am yours, Veeresh,” she cried softly, kissing him back, holding him tighter. “Only yours. Forever.”

“That’s right,” he said, voice rough with emotion, dominance, and unspoken love. “Mine. My wife. My light. And I will never let you go.”

In that raw, dark, consuming moment, all barriers shattered. Their love was no longer hesitant, no longer shadowed by the past. It was fierce, painful, intoxicating, and eternal.