Chapter Twenty-One: Signing Away a Name

The wedding dates were fixed.

April 5 and 6.

The cards had already been printed—thick ivory paper, embossed in gold, carrying names that held power across .

Invitations were sent.
Preparations had begun.

To the world, it was a grand union.

But inside the Mewar palace—

It was something else entirely.

Poornima stood in the study, the air heavy with formality and finality.

Her father sat across from her, papers laid out neatly on the table.

Legal.

Cold.

Final.

“You will sign this,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion.

Poornima didn’t speak immediately.

Her eyes fell on the document.

Each word carefully drafted.

Each line… cutting ties.

“You are out of our clan,” he continued. “Not that you were ever truly a part of it.”

The words didn’t shock her.

They didn’t break her.

Because somewhere along the years—

She had already accepted this truth.

“You will no longer carry the Mewar name,” he added. “Not in any legal sense.”

A pause.

“You are not included.”

Silence followed.

Heavy.

But Poornima…

She smiled.

Not brightly.
Not happily.

Just… softly.

As if something inside her had finally stopped resisting.

“I understand,” she said.

Her voice didn’t tremble.

Her hand didn’t shake.

She picked up the pen.

And signed.

Just like that.

Years of silent longing.
Of hoping for acceptance.
Of waiting to be acknowledged—

Reduced to a single signature.

She placed the pen down gently and stood up.

No argument.
No tears.

Because there was nothing left to hold onto.

Later that day—

She was at Saffron Ember.

Back in her world.

Her space.

Where she wasn’t defined by someone else’s rejection.

She moved through the restaurant with quiet efficiency, checking details, guiding staff, immersing herself in work like she always did.

Because work…

Didn’t hurt her.

“Poornima.”

His voice came from behind her.

She turned.

Veeresh Rathore.

Calm. Composed.

As if the world hadn’t shifted beneath her feet just hours ago.

“I’ve chosen the venue and your outfits,” he said, getting straight to the point.

Of course he had.

Poornima nodded slightly. “Sit.”

He did.

Beside her.

Close—but not intrusive.

He placed his tablet on the table and turned it toward her.

Images filled the screen.

Wedding venue—grand, regal, breathtaking.
Outfits—elegant, intricate, chosen with precision.

Everything… perfect.

Everything… decided.

She looked through it quietly, her expression unreadable.

“It’s good,” she said finally. “Go ahead.”

No hesitation.

No objections.

Veeresh studied her for a second.

As if waiting for more.

But she gave him nothing else.

Then—

Unexpectedly—

He reached for her hand.

Her breath stilled slightly.

Before she could react, he placed her finger against his phone.

A soft click.

Fingerprint registered.

She looked at him, confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Access,” he replied simply. “You’ll need it.”

That was it.

No explanation.

No elaboration.

Just another quiet inclusion into his world.

Poornima looked at him for a moment longer.

Something stirred inside her.

Something she had been holding back since morning.

“I need to tell you something…”

Her voice was softer now.

Hesitant.

Uncertain.

The words felt heavy in her chest.

Veeresh turned fully toward her, his attention shifting completely.

“You can,” he said.

Simple.

Open.

No pressure.

But the moment stretched…

And suddenly—

She couldn’t say it.

Her thoughts tangled.
Her courage slipped.

“It’s not serious,” she said quickly, shaking her head slightly. “No problem… leave it.”

But Veeresh didn’t move.

Didn’t look away.

His eyes stayed on her.

Sharp.

Observant.

Not convinced.

“Poornima.”

Her name sounded different when he said it like that.

Not casual.

Not distant.

But before she could respond—

His phone rang.

The moment broke.

He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting slightly as he answered.

His voice turned professional. Focused.

“Yes… I’ll handle it.”

A pause.

“I’m on my way.”

The call ended.

He looked back at her immediately.

“We’re not done,” he said firmly.

Her breath hitched slightly.

“I’ll come to your penthouse tonight.”

Not a question.

A statement.

“I have urgent work now,” he added, already standing up.

And just like that—

He left.

Poornima remained seated.

Still.

Her fingers resting lightly on the table.

Her mind…

Far from calm.

The words she wanted to say…

Stayed trapped inside her.

Her gaze dropped slightly, her thoughts circling the same fear again.

“How do I ask him…” she whispered softly to herself.

How do I tell him what I need?

How do I ask for something he never promised?

Her fingers slowly curled inward.

Because what she wanted to ask wasn’t small.

It wasn’t casual.

It wasn’t something she could brush off.

It was everything.

Will you love me?
Will you choose me?
Will you stay only mine?

Her chest tightened slightly.

Those questions felt too big.
Too vulnerable.

Too dangerous to ask someone like him.

She leaned back slightly, closing her eyes for a moment.

“Tonight…” she murmured.

A mix of nervousness and anticipation settled within her.

Because she knew—

When he came…

She wouldn’t be able to avoid it anymore.

She would have to speak.

And for someone who had spent her entire life staying silent—

That felt harder than anything else.