The sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Rathore mansion, spilling across the bridal suite. Poornima sat in front of the mirror, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the heavy red lehenga. Every stitch, every embroidery, every piece of gold and crimson shimmered like fire — but she felt nothing except the weight of her mistakes pressing on her chest.

Neha and Priyanka moved quietly around her, adjusting her jewelry, smoothing her hair. Their faces were pale, anxious, almost guilty.

“She looks… beautiful,” Priyanka whispered, though her voice was heavy with unease.

Poornima sighed, forcing a small smile. “Doesn’t matter today,” she murmured. “It’s not about me.”

Meanwhile, in the penthouse of Veeresh Rajawat, the calm was unnerving. He sat in his office, black sherwani already pressed and perfect, reviewing the final details of the engagement ceremony. The rain had stopped, but the chill outside matched the ice in his demeanor.

A knock sounded at the door.

Neha and Priyanka entered, their heads bowed slightly. “Sir…” Neha began, voice hesitant. “We… we came to speak for Poornima.”

Veeresh didn’t look up immediately. His expression was unreadable — calm, distant, and sharp.

Priyanka swallowed hard, her voice firm but respectful. “We know she… she made mistakes. She was madly in love with your stepbrother, and she did things — terrible things — and we supported her. We’re sorry, Veeresh. We’re ashamed. But please… don’t hurt her.”

Veeresh’s eyes finally lifted, scanning them both. His gaze was cold, calculating. “I will never forgive her,” he said quietly, almost detached.

Neha’s hands clenched. “It’s up to you, sir. We’re not asking for forgiveness. We’re just asking… whatever you do, please don’t make her suffer. She’s already… already punished herself enough.”

Priyanka added, her voice trembling slightly: “We’ll go to any extent to protect her. Anything. But don’t make her pay for all of this with her life.”

Veeresh leaned back, his expression still unreadable. A faint smirk tugged at his lips — not cruel, not kind, just cold calculation. “I am not doing this for her,” he said softly, almost like a whisper. “I am doing this because it was always meant to be my turn. My time to balance the scales. She knows nothing of mercy today.”

The friends exchanged worried glances. “Sir…” Neha said softly, “please think. You were once hurt by what she did… but this is the day of her life. Please, don’t let hate define today.”

Veeresh stood, walking slowly toward the window. His reflection in the glass looked powerful, untouchable. “Hate? Call it what you want. Call it revenge. Call it… justice. Today, I am in control. Not her, not you. Me.”

Priyanka’s voice shook. “We only came to plead for her, Veeresh. That’s all.”

Veeresh didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His posture, his aura, his silence — every gesture screamed the same truth: nothing could sway him today.

Neha and Priyanka left quietly, hearts heavy, knowing they had done all they could.

And somewhere upstairs, Poornima adjusted her lehenga, unaware of the conversation that had just occurred — unaware of the cold, calculated storm waiting for her in Veeresh’s eyes.

Because when she walked into the hall, Veeresh Rajawat would not change.

He would remain distant, cold, and in complete control — and she would have to survive whatever punishment his silence and his plan had in store.