“Love doesn’t always heal. Sometimes… it scars.”

Four years ago, Aaradhya Rathore walked away from the man she once thought was her forever — Veer Malhotra. Their love was passionate, obsessive, and unforgiving. When betrayal struck and silence followed, she chose pride over pain… and vanished without a goodbye.

Now, she’s back in Udaipur, days away from an arranged engagement to a man who promises stability — not fire. But fate has other plans.

Veer returns, not as the boy she left behind, but as her fiancé’s best man.

Still powerful. Still dangerous.

And still burning for her.

What begins as icy indifference quickly ignites into a war of stolen glances, buried secrets, and emotions that never died. Between palatial traditions and modern battles of the heart, Aaradhya and Veer are pulled back into the love story they never finished.

But this time…

She’s not the same girl.

And he’s not willing to lose her again.

“Your Name, My Poison” is a gripping enemies-to-lovers romance where the past won’t stay buried, and the only thing more lethal than hate… is the love that started it all.

Aaradhya —

I always knew he’d return.

But I didn’t expect him to walk into my engagement ceremony… as the best man.

The Udaipur sun had melted into a honey-gold horizon. Strings of marigold swayed in rhythm with the shehnai, and the mehendi on my hands was still darkening—deep, bold, stubborn. Much like the past I had buried.

And then, like poison stirred into kheer, he arrived.

Veer Malhotra.

My breath caught somewhere between my throat and ribs. The glass of rose milk I was holding slipped slightly, but I caught it just in time. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. His presence had that kind of weight. Heavy. Familiar. Unforgiving.

“Raavi, that’s him,” whispered Meera, my cousin, tugging at my sleeve. “The best man. Veer. Malhotra’s heir.”

As if I could ever forget.

He walked through the gates like he owned the palace—because at one point, he nearly did. Tall. Black kurta with golden embroidery. Hair slicked back but messy enough to say he didn’t care. And those eyes… damn those eyes.

Once, they had worshipped me.

Now? They looked through me like I was dust beneath his designer shoes.

I held my chin up. Rathores don’t flinch. Not even when the boy who shattered them walks back like he never did.

He reached the stage where my fiancé—Riyan—was giving a painfully polite smile to elders. Veer whispered something to him, and they shared a brief laugh. My stomach twisted.

How does one behave around the man who once kissed you like salvation and cursed you like sin?

He turned.

Our eyes locked.

And the world paused.

My first instinct was to look away. But I didn’t. I stared right back. If he was fire, I’d be gasoline. If he came for war, I wouldn’t hide—I’d reignite.

His lips curled into a smirk. That arrogant tilt I hated. Loved. Feared.

“Hello, Aaradhya,” he said as he approached.

I blinked. His voice was deeper. Richer. But it still had that edge—like velvet wrapped around a knife.

“Veer,” I answered. My voice, thank God, didn’t shake. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Clearly.” His gaze dropped to my mehendi. “Still like lotus patterns, I see.”

My fingers twitched.

He remembered.

“Still obsessed with women you’ve destroyed, I see,” I said softly.

He laughed. Dark and low. “You still sting.”

“You still deserve it.”

The air between us crackled. Riyan stepped forward, clueless and charming. “You two know each other?”

Before I could answer, Veer said, “College friends.”

Liar.

College destroyer.

I forced a smile. “Yes. We were once… very close.”

Riyan chuckled, looking between us. “That’s good. Old friends always bring drama to weddings.”

If only he knew.

Veer’s eyes stayed on mine, unwavering. As if challenging me. Daring me to flinch first.

But I didn’t.

Because he didn’t know the truth. He didn’t know the hell I’d walked through.

And he didn’t know… I wasn’t the same girl he left behind.

Not anymore.

Not after everything he did.

And if he thought Tere Naam Ka Zehar—the poison of his name—had faded from my blood…

He was about to learn how deeply it still burned.

— Veer —

She still looked like destruction wrapped in marigolds.

Aaradhya Rathore.

The name tastes like rust on my tongue.

It’s been four years. Four long, bleeding years since I last saw her. Since I watched her walk out of my life with tears in her eyes and betrayal in her silence.

Now here she was… standing like a goddess sculpted from fire and ego, her mehendi-stained hands wrapped around a glass, her eyes spitting the kind of hatred only a lover could master.

And me?

I smirked.

Because what else do you do when the girl you once burned for looks at you like she’s planning your funeral?

I didn’t plan on attending the engagement. But when Riyan called, saying his fiancée’s family was hosting the ceremony at their ancestral haveli in Udaipur—and that he wanted me there as his best man—I couldn’t say no.

Not because of him.

Because of her.

I knew it was her.

I recognized her name immediately.

Aaradhya Rathore. My Aaradhya.

Except… she was never really mine, was she?

“College friends,” I’d said when Riyan asked.

A half-truth. A comfortable lie.

We were so much more than friends.

We were war and worship.

Lust and loyalty.

Chaos and comfort.

Until it ended.

And I ended her.

The guilt had been buried beneath deals, women, alcohol, and deadlines in Delhi. But the moment I stepped into that palace, every suppressed memory came crawling back like smoke in a locked room.

She hadn’t changed much. Just… sharpened.

Eyes more guarded. Spine straighter. Smile faker.

But she was still her.

Still the girl who once waited outside my hostel at 2 AM because I forgot my wallet.

Still the girl who kissed me under the library stairs after calling me insufferable.

Still the girl who disappeared without saying goodbye.

Except, this time… I would not let her walk away first.

As I walked toward her, I expected fire.

I got hell.

“Hello, Aaradhya,” I said. Smooth. Cold.

Her eyes narrowed. “Veer.”

God, the way she said my name—like it was a slur.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she added.

Clearly. Her pulse had stuttered. I still knew that look.

“Still like lotus patterns, I see,” I muttered, glancing at her palm.

She stiffened. Good.

I remember everything about her. The way she hated coffee but loved the smell. The way she got furious when someone interrupted her mid-sentence. The way she always scribbled hearts in her diary… around my name.

But this Aaradhya?

She was steel.

“You still deserve it,” she replied, voice low.

Damn. She didn’t miss a beat.

Riyan’s interruption gave us a moment to breathe. I smiled at him. He was a good guy. Harmless. Trusting.

But naive.

He didn’t know the storm brewing in her eyes wasn’t nerves—it was a love story gone rancid.

“College friends,” I said again, to fill the air. Aaradhya didn’t deny it, but she didn’t confirm it either. Her fake smile didn’t reach her eyes.

I wonder if Riyan knows his bride once kissed her enemy.

And moaned his name.

And left him bleeding.

No. He doesn’t.

But I do.

And now that we’re back in the same storm again…

I’m going to finish what we started.

Not with apologies.

Not with closure.

But with fire.

Because Aaradhya Rathore may be wearing someone else’s ring—

But Tere Naam Ka Zehar still pulses in her veins.

And I’m going to make damn sure she remembers every bitter, burning drop of it.