Night settled over the Rathore mansion like a heavy blanket.

Most of the house was dark, silent… except for one shadow on the terrace.

Veeresh.

He stood alone, a cigarette between his fingers, the ember glowing against the night sky. He rarely smoked—but tonight, his mind was restless, crowded, dangerous. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her cold eyes, her silence, her distance.

It shouldn’t have bothered him.

But it did.

More than it should.

He took one last drag, crushed the cigarette, and before he could stop himself, his legs were already moving toward the hallway that led to her room.

---

Inside Her Room

Poornima was lying on her bed, scrolling her phone, headphones in, trying to distract herself from memories she wished she didn’t have.

When her door opened suddenly, she jerked up.

Her eyes widened.

Her heart stopped.

Veeresh.

He closed the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered sharply, clutching her bedsheet.

“Don’t shout,” he said quietly—his voice low, steady, almost… tired.

“Get out,” she snapped. “I don’t want you here—”

Before she could finish, he walked toward her in three long strides, scooped her up effortlessly, and held her against him.

“Veer—what—stop! Put me down!”

He didn’t listen.

He pressed one hand to her back to keep her steady and pulled open the balcony door with the other.

Seconds later, they were outside, and he carried her down the small spiral stairs to the garage area.

Poornima thrashed lightly in his arms.

“Veeresh! I swear I’ll tell Dad! He’ll throw you out of your job!”

He didn’t react.

His jaw didn’t even move.

“Done,” he said simply.

“If that’s what it takes. Now stop.”

Her breath caught.

He said it like he meant it.

Like losing his job was nothing compared to losing her.

---

The Ride

He placed her gently on his bike in front of him.

She tried to get down, but his arms caged her in.

“Sit,” he said quietly.

“Why are you taking me? Where are we going?” she demanded, fear and anger mixing in her voice.

He didn’t answer.

The engine roared to life, and the world blurred as he rode through the dark streets.

She clutched the side handles tightly, refusing to hold him.

He noticed.

He didn’t force her.

But every turn, every bump, he shifted slightly so she wouldn’t fall.

Within minutes, they reached a tall glass building.

His penthouse.

---

At His Penthouse

The door clicked shut behind them, and Poornima spun to face him.

“Why did you bring me here?” she demanded.

“Say something, Veeresh! Or I swear I’ll—”

He finally looked at her.

Not cold.

Not blank.

Not emotionless.

But tired.

And hurting.

“I couldn’t breathe,” he muttered.

She froze.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “I kept thinking… what if you leave again? What if you stop talking to everyone? What if you disappear before I can…”

He stopped himself.

The words hung between them.

She swallowed, shaken.

“Before you can what?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he walked past her into the bedroom.

“Sleep.”

His voice was softer now.

Not a command. A request.

She stayed near the door, arms crossed.

“I’m not sleeping here. I’m going home. I don’t need—”

He turned to her, eyes dark and exhausted.

“Just tonight,” he said.

“I’m not asking you for anything else.”

She hesitated.

“I’ll call Dad,” she warned again, though her voice had lost some strength.

“Call him,” he said.

“I’ll take whatever happens tomorrow. But tonight… I need you here.”

---

The Bed

She finally lay down on the far side of his large bed, as far from him as possible, her back facing him.

The distance between them felt like a cold wall.

He lay down too, but she could hear his breathing—uneven, restless.

Minutes passed.

Then she felt a strong hand wrap around her waist from behind.

She stiffened instantly.

“Veeresh… don’t… don’t do this.”

He didn’t pull her closer.

He didn’t force anything.

He whispered, voice deep and raw:

“Not if you don’t want it. Say no… and I’ll let go. I swear.”

Her throat tightened.

No pressure.

No force.

Just a question.

A request.

“Why?” she whispered shakily.

“Why tonight?”

He swallowed hard.

“I need you today. Not anything else… just—”

His forehead touched her shoulder.

“I just need to hold you. If you allow me.”

Her anger softened.

Her chest warmed painfully.

And the hatred she promised herself she’d keep… cracked.

She whispered back, so quietly he almost missed it:

“…Okay.”

The moment she said it, his grip tightened—not rough, not desperate, but painfully gentle.

Like he was touching something he thought he’d lost forever.

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling shakily.

She let him.

Just for tonight.

Little by little, she melted into him, letting her back rest against his chest.

His breathing calmed.

Her heartbeat steadied.

In that quiet room, high above the city, two broken hearts shared the same warmth.

No kisses.

No desire.

No chaos.

Just a hug.

A permission.

A crack in the wall she built around herself.

They slept like that, tangled in silent emotion neither dared to name.