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The sun crept through the hospital curtains, spilling warmth over the sterile white walls.

Veeresh sat beside her, his sleeves rolled up, the exhaustion clear on his face — but his eyes held something new. Relief.

Poornima was awake, pale but glowing softly under the light. She watched him — the man who had terrified nations, the man who once lived behind guns and blood — now sitting quietly, tucking her blanket like a nurse afraid to hurt her.

He caught her watching and arched a brow.

> “What?” he asked, voice still hoarse from sleepless nights.

Her lips curved into a weak, teasing smile.

> “You still want to flirt with me?” he said before she could reply, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

She laughed lightly — the sound so soft yet it filled the room.

> “I have to,” she whispered. “Someone has to make you smile like this.”

He froze for a heartbeat, that simple sentence piercing deeper than any bullet could. His gaze softened.

> “Ruby…” he murmured, shaking his head, a smile finally breaking through. “You’re impossible.”

> “You love that about me,” she said, eyes glimmering.

Veeresh exhaled, a quiet laugh escaping him as he brushed his thumb against her knuckles.

> “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I do.”

The machines beeped steadily beside her, and for once, the sound didn’t feel like a reminder of fear — but of life.

Poornima’s voice broke the silence again, gentle but filled with emotion.

> “Thank you,” she whispered. “For not giving up on me.”

Veeresh looked at her, his expression unreadable — then he leaned closer, his forehead resting against hers.

> “Don’t thank me,” he said in a low murmur. “You gave me something to believe in, Ruby. You made me want to fight.”

She smiled softly, eyes glistening.

> “Then keep smiling, Mr. Deewan. It suits you more than the rage.”

Veeresh chuckled, brushing a tear from her cheek.

> “Only you would dare say that to an underworld don lying in a hospital bed.”

> “That’s because I’m his wife,” she said with a sleepy grin. “And I outrank him.”

He laughed quietly — the sound rare, raw, and real. He kissed her forehead gently, whispering,

> “Rest now, Mrs. Deewan. You’ve already won every battle.”

As her eyes closed, she still wore that faint, content smile — the one that made him realize that love wasn’t his weakness anymore… it was his salvation