Chapter Thirteen: The Secret He Shouldn’t Know

The silence in the cabin didn’t feel the same anymore.

It wasn’t just heavy—it was exposed.

Poornima stood there, her fingers still lightly touching the ring, her mind trying to catch up with everything he had just said.

And then one thought pushed through everything else.

Sharp. Immediate.

“How do you know?”

Her voice was no longer soft.

It carried something else now—fear.

Real fear.

“That I write…” she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, searching his face, “that is a secret.”

It wasn’t just a hobby.
It wasn’t just writing.

It was the only place she had ever been free.

The only place where she wasn’t judged.
Where she wasn’t that girl.

Where she was… Mannat.

Untouchable. Desired. Heard.

And now—

He knew.

Veeresh didn’t look surprised by her reaction.

If anything…

A faint smile touched his lips.

Not mocking.
Not careless.

Just… knowing.

“When I decided to marry you,” he said calmly, “I made sure I knew everything.”

Her breath hitched slightly.

“My company has people who read your work,” he continued, almost casually. “They talk about it. A lot.”

Her heart started racing.

“Mannat,” he said, her pen name rolling off his tongue effortlessly.

It sounded strange.

Hearing it from him.

“I read them,” he added.

A pause.

“And I could relate.”

That made her still completely.

Relate?

Before she could process that—

“I traced it,” he said simply. “And it led me to you.”

Poornima stared at him, disbelief flashing across her face.

“You… investigated me?”

Her voice rose slightly now. Not loud—but shaken.

“That’s wrong.”

For a moment, the air between them tightened again.

But Veeresh didn’t step back.

“Not at all,” he replied, his tone steady, unapologetic.

A beat.

“My wife is my responsibility.”

The words landed differently this time.

Not as control.
Not as authority.

But as something… possessive in a way she didn’t yet understand.

He stepped a little closer—but not enough to corner her again. Just enough to make sure she heard him clearly.

“This will remain a secret,” he said.

No hesitation.

“No one will know.”

His gaze held hers—firm, unwavering.

“Not from me.”

Something in his voice made her believe him.

And that scared her even more.

Because trust…

Was not something she gave easily.

And yet—

A small part of her had already started to.

Before she could respond—

He stepped back completely now, creating distance.

“As for the rest…” he said, a faint smirk returning to his lips,

“All the best.”

She blinked, confused. “For what?”

He tilted his head slightly, that same dangerous calm settling back into him.

“For handling your soon-to-be husband.”

There it was again.

That confidence.
That certainty.

As if everything had already been decided.

As if she had already said yes—without saying it.

And then—

He turned.

Just like that.

No dramatic pause.
No looking back.

He walked out of the cabin, leaving behind the faint echo of his presence.

And Poornima…

Stood there.

Still.

Alone.

Her mind was spinning.

Too many things at once.

He knew her secret.
He had read her words.
He understood parts of her she had never shown anyone.

And yet—

He was nothing like the men she wrote about.

He wasn’t soft.
He wasn’t gentle.
He wasn’t a dream.

He was real.

Flawed.
Blunt.
Unpredictable.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the ring again.

“What is happening…” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.

This wasn’t how her story was supposed to go.

There was no slow build.
No safe beginning.

Just…

A man who walked into her life, uncovered her truths, and decided to stay anyway.

Her chest felt tight.

Not just from fear.

But from something else.

Something unfamiliar.

Because for the first time—

Someone knew her completely.

Not just Poornima Singh Mewar.
Not just the “illegitimate daughter.”

But Mannat.

The girl behind the words.

And instead of walking away—

He had stepped closer.

That realization unsettled her more than anything else.

She walked slowly toward the chair and sat down, her thoughts refusing to settle.

“Handle him…” she murmured faintly, almost a breathless laugh escaping her.

“How do I even begin to understand him?”

Because Veeresh Rathore—

Was not a man she could read.

Not even with all the stories she had written.

And yet…

Somewhere deep inside—

She knew one thing.

This wasn’t just the beginning of a marriage.

It was the beginning of something far more complicated.

Something that would test her.
Challenge her.
And maybe…

Change her.