The evening air was cool when they entered the penthouse.

Poornima placed her bag on the couch and turned to switch on the lights—

But before she could take one step,

Veeresh’s hand slid around her waist from behind

and he gently pushed her back against the wall.

Her breath caught.

“Veer…?”

He didn’t answer.

He lowered his head slowly, his lips brushing her neck—

a soft, warm kiss.

Poornima closed her eyes, her fingers curling slightly at the sensation.

Veeresh moved to her temple, kissing it with a kind of raw emotion she didn’t understand yet.

Then he whispered against her skin, voice low,

“You are mine.”

She opened her eyes, shocked by the intensity.

His hand tightened slightly on her waist—not hurting, but claiming.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said, his tone deep, possessive, almost vulnerable underneath.

“Veer…” she breathed, unsure whether to pull him closer or push him away.

He looked into her eyes then, something burning in his.

“I am possessive,” he said honestly.

“I am short-tempered… I lose control sometimes.”

Her heart tightened at the honesty in his voice.

“Veer—”

He didn’t let her finish.

He cupped her face and kissed her—

a deep, emotional kiss

like he’d been holding every feeling inside for years.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested on hers.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I am not a good husband, Poornima…”

Her chest ached at the pain in his tone.

She lifted her hand slowly to his cheek.

“Veer…”

But he shook his head once, eyes serious.

“You deserve someone calm. Someone perfect. Not someone like me.”

Poornima swallowed hard.

For the first time, she saw a side of him nobody else ever had—

not the businessman

not the angry boy from their childhood

not the powerful Veeresh Rathore.

Just a man scared he wasn’t enough.

She held his hands gently.

“Veer,” she whispered, “maybe I don’t want perfect. Maybe I just want real.”

His breath hitched—like her words hit him straight in the heart.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then he pulled her into a tight, warm embrace, burying his face in her shoulder as if finally, finally letting go of something he’d been holding alone for too long.

And Poornima hugged him back

without fear

without doubt.

Maybe their story wasn’t perfect.

But it was theirs.