The morning light filtered through the penthouse windows, casting a warm glow on the modern kitchen. Poornima stirred awake, the events of the past days still heavy in her mind.

She moved quietly, trying not to disturb the empty apartment. The fridge hummed softly as she prepared a simple breakfast — a sandwich, nothing fancy. Her hands trembled slightly, whether from fear, guilt, or lingering exhaustion, she didn’t know.

Just as she was about to take a bite, the doorbell rang.

She froze. “Who could it be?” she murmured, wiping her hands on her lehenga.

Reluctantly, she opened the door. Standing there were three men — Veeresh’s close friends, impeccably dressed, their expressions unreadable but serious.

Poornima’s heart thudded. “Veeresh isn’t here,” she said cautiously, stepping aside to let them in.

One of them nodded. “We know. That’s why we came to speak to you.”

Her stomach tightened. “Speak to me? About what?”

Another friend stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Poornima… don’t hurt him.”

She blinked. “What? I… I wouldn’t…”

“You did, whether you know it or not,” the first friend said, his eyes steady. “Because of you, Veeresh has been through a lot. You need to be human with him. Treat him with care. Don’t break him.”

Poornima flinched, her hands clutching the sandwich tightly. “Break him? I… I’m not trying to—”

They shook their heads. “We aren’t talking about intentions. We’re talking about results. He never received love from anyone. Not from family, not from friends. You know his past. You know everything. Please… don’t make it worse. Try to understand him. Don’t push him over the edge, because even you won’t be able to fix it if you do.”

Poornima’s throat tightened. The weight of their words pressed down on her chest. “I… I won’t hurt him. I promise.”

The third friend gave a faint nod. “Good. And one more thing… don’t tell him we were here. If he knows, he’ll be furious. Trust us.”

She swallowed, her voice trembling slightly. “I won’t say a word.”

The first friend’s eyes softened slightly. “We hope you’re not like your sister.”

Poornima froze. “My… sister? What do you mean?”

The friend’s expression hardened again. “We mean… Veeresh has to tell you himself. We can’t. But remember this — mistakes from the past, arrogance, or carelessness… they can break him in ways you won’t recover from. Be careful.”

Poornima’s chest tightened further. The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of their warning pressing down on her like a storm.

Finally, they turned and left, leaving her alone in the kitchen, the sandwich untouched.

She sank into a chair, fresh tears glistening in her eyes. Her mind raced:

I have to be careful… I have to survive him… But how? How do I survive a man who’s cold, unyielding, and has every reason to destroy me?

Outside, the city moved on as usual. Inside, the penthouse held the calm before another storm.

Veeresh Rajawat was absent now, but his shadow — his rules, his control, and the weight of his past — hung over her like a sword waiting to fall.

And Poornima realized one thing with stark clarity: this was only the beginning.