The night was heavy with celebration — music, laughter, and champagne flowing like water. Chandeliers shimmered overhead as the Rathore mansion glowed in gold and ivory. The engagement of Pavan Rajawat and Sahana Rathore was nothing short of perfection.

But for Poornima, it was a nightmare wrapped in lights.

She stood at the corner of the hall, glass in hand, watching as her sister smiled beside the man she had loved for years. The applause around them echoed in her chest like broken glass. Every toast, every cheer felt like another cut to her heart.

Sahana’s radiant laughter carried across the room — the same laughter Poornima used to share when they were little girls dreaming of fairytales. And now, her fairytale had been stolen by her own sister.

The whiskey burned down her throat. Once. Twice. Then again.

By the fourth glass, her head felt light, the world tilting slightly. Her vision blurred — but not enough to erase the image of Pavan sliding a ring onto Sahana’s finger.

Her best friends, Neha and Priyanka, tried to pull her toward the dance floor. “Poornima, come on, don’t—”

But she pulled her hand away sharply. “Don’t what?” she hissed softly, her words trembling. “Pretend I’m happy? Pretend I don’t feel like my heart’s being crushed while everyone’s clapping?”

They exchanged uneasy looks. Poornima set her glass down with force. “Excuse me,” she muttered, her heels clicking as she walked away, unsteady but determined.

The corridors of the mansion were dim, quiet — a sharp contrast to the glittering chaos outside. She opened the door to one of the guest rooms, eyes glassy, mind spinning.

“Pavan…” she whispered, her voice breaking as she stumbled inside.

Someone was already there — a man standing by the window, looking out at the rain that had begun to fall outside. He turned slightly at the sound of her voice, surprise flickering across his face.

But Poornima didn’t see clearly. In her blurred, drunken gaze, the outline of his suit, his height, the calmness in his stance — it all felt familiar. Her heart leapt painfully.

“Pavan…” she said again, tears spilling down her cheeks.

It was Veeresh.

He had come upstairs to escape the noise — but before he could speak, she stumbled closer, her words tumbling out in broken sobs.

“Why did you do this to me?” she whispered, voice trembling. “You knew, Pavan… you knew I loved you since school. I tried everything… every way to get your attention.”

Veeresh froze. Every word was a knife — because he remembered school. He remembered her.

“I… I bullied your brother,” she choked out, her body shaking. “I said such horrible things to him. It wasn’t his fault. Never was. He was just… in the way. I was stupid. I was cruel. All for you, Pavan. To make you look at me once.”

Veeresh’s jaw tightened. The memories she spoke of — the laughter, the humiliation — flooded his mind. He should have walked away. He should have left her to her drunken misery.

But something in her voice stopped him — the raw honesty, the regret, the tears of a woman who had built walls all her life and was finally breaking.

Poornima stepped closer, her trembling fingers brushing against his collar. “I worked in your company, I sent every signal… I waited for years, Pavan. How could you not see me?”

Her eyes glistened, her lips trembling as she whispered, “I loved you then… and I still do.”

Before he could react, she leaned forward — and kissed him.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss — it was broken, desperate, soaked in pain and confusion. A confession that wasn’t meant for him.

Veeresh didn’t move. His heart thundered, torn between fury and something he couldn’t name. She pulled back, whispering against his chest, “You were always my first love, Pavan…”

Then her body went limp, tears still streaking her cheeks as she fell against him, half-conscious, still mumbling words of guilt and love.

Veeresh caught her before she hit the floor, his hands trembling slightly as he looked down at her.

For years, he had dreamed of this woman kneeling before him — but not like this. Not broken. Not calling him by another man’s name.

He looked away, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“Poornima Rathore,” he murmured under his breath, voice low and rough. “You have no idea who you just confessed to.”

Outside, the rain poured harder, drowning out the music from the hall. Inside, Veeresh carried her to the couch gently, covering her with his blazer before stepping back.

And as he watched her sleep — the woman who had once destroyed him now crumbling under her own regrets — Veeresh realized something.

The past had come full circle.

But this time, he was the one in control.