Adultery Love Sex And War Part 1 : Age Of Darkness

[Harry Jordan]

I finally finished the update . That Sona and Vikram part was so unbearable .

I had one criticism before  and Now I have the same criticism  . You need to tone down a bit the whole Sona and VIKRAM situation . 

The plot is fine , the material is not right , great words and line but not needed , not everything needs to have some pinch of intimacy and 



But 

Also , Then I also understand the whole point of doing what you did . I get it . THE HIDDEN MEANING and THE SUBTLE HINTS . I have enough faith in you that you gonna pull it  off . 

I hope  whatever happens in future updates  balances out or even out do what happened in Earlier updates , The written material, The Content .

I did not want to make this comment , but The whole Sona and VIKRAM part irked me so much   which I know the may be the whole point of writing that paragraph . lol . This is good but not good . 

(Just wrote what i felt in that moment . lol . I am setting my maturity aside . A little bit of  maturity helps but too much of maturity can ruin the fun ) 


( Note :- Will write another comment on CHAPTER 21 , Later )

Well , here's the thing Dean. If Sonarika reacted condescendingly and completely ignored Vikram , then that would've been a big character assasination of her arc. Because think of it this way , she "rekindled" her affair with him. And she did it because she has alreadly formed a connection with him. Now If I suddenly make her ignore Vikram like she always does , she will be doing the same thing she did in Bali which is tip toeing between her men. But here, the romance , the small banter,  it was needed because Sonarika was suffering in her own pit of depression and sadness. She needed an emotional relief , a time with someone who could make her breath again. What they had was not mostly romantic , but piecing together from the wreck that they have created. And in a way it gave her relief from the Toxic environment she has created at her own home. Because Sonarika knows she is not going to get that love and affection from Hemant after the heartbreak she has caused him. 

In short this is her "duality" in play. She loves Hemant and also has feelings for Vikram but she understands she is moving away from Hemant which is why she finds some relief of emotional attachment with Vikram which is why she did all that with him. But at the same time , she didn't go all the way because she still has love for Hemant. But now we know , this wasn't just an emotional turmoil. She was meant to be that way as she is mentally damaged for a while. For me , in a storyline standpoint this was important because I didn't want Sonarika to go through an emotional torture for the sake of it. That scene paved the way to make Sonarika see that something was wrong with her which made her finally seek help from Ragini.

But I do hope you might like her future arc , because we will see her character heal and improve herself through therapy and other activities to find her inner self and bring out her truth. This is already have me hyped as a writer as well because I did a lengthy research on this to carve out her redemption/healing arc.

[Pardhu7_secret]

You know how to engage readers. the Sonarika flashback is definitely a great cliffhanger. The character arc is as beautiful as Hemanth's, and the story takes a 360-degree approach. If Sonarika holds and does not fall for Vikram, then by the end of the story, Sonarika and Hemanth will once again walk along the beach with karan and spend happy, emotional moments together in their dream beach-view villa. Eagerly waiting, bro.

[DeanWinchester00007]

But I do hope you might like her future arc , because we will see her character heal and improve herself through therapy and other activities to find her inner self and bring out her truth. This is already have me hyped as a writer as well because I did a lengthy research on this to carve out her redemption/healing arc.

This sound interesting . 

I just hope that When the times comes to be with the Man she loves , Her decision should be decisive not CHOICE . It should not be like I love both them , both of brings etc etc made me feel etc etc but A is much better than B or Though I love A but I still choose B . 
Also , I have feelings for both , I always gonna you A , but My life is B . 


But lets see , Now that you have told us about this , and her past . I am exciting . 

[DeanWinchester00007]

What an Update , CHAPTER 21 10/10 . BEST CHAPTER TILL NOW . 

I totally forget that how far story has progressed . 21 Chapters . Almost 8 months .Finally The villains are revealing , and as the story unfolds we still having new twist and turns . I just guessing at what time , The third Act is gonna start . 

This chapter is great , Multiple plots , All progressing together perfectly in way not disturbing the natural flow of the story . 

For me the balancing in the story including all elements Romance , Drama , Grief , Flashbacks , Reveals , Suspense and Then THE ACTION at last , this all makes it One of the best chapter in the whole story . 

Everything is so perfect and so concise not a single para feels out of place not too revealing , perfectly satisfying the readers curiosity but also leaves the tease in the end . 


Sona 

Now , this is what i call Sona's true ARC . Her backstory suddenly change the whole scenario and kind of explain her present action.
Her arc's starts from here . Lets see how she handles the problem , her enemy , and most important HER HEART . She is in very delicate place , Too much strain will break the thin rope between her and Hemant or Too much cement will solidify her bond with Her lover . I hope that her arc should focus on SONA not wife of Hemant or Mistress of VIKRAM . 
I love to see more of her story during college time .  I hope she is gonna see the true face of Meghna . I hope her therapy at least make her to gain some brains . 

Meghna 

She just pure Evil . I was rooting for her lol . But her killing Sona's 4 year old sister was too much , She is just pure evil . This is not hatred or jealousy  this is pure insanity . She is mad , Even after Sona sacrifices she still has no remorse and no sympathy for her , Yes she had shown sympathy in past but Its the sympathy The predator shows for their prey. Though they want the prey to suffer but the idea that they are not the cause or reason for the suffering of their prey makes them feel bad and the act of saving them only to torture them later is not sympathy its like Feeding the goat only to slaughter them later . 

SHE DESERVES DEATH . She needs to pay . 

I dont know but I want see How Sona's react to all of this  Her whole life She is just puppet , Her puppeteer is right in front of her . That is why she is so helpless in front of Meghna. Every act whether its Meghna degrading her husband , Meghna actively breaking her marriage ,Any normal women would have keep her distance from her but Sona cannot not because she is like her sister . ITS TRAUMA-BONDING . 

I hope the Psychiatrist will not turn out as Double agent . Also I hope she does not tell Meghna about her therapy the moment Meghna knows about it she will go after her or will try to sabotage her healing process . I hope that Sona fights back to Meghna's mental manipulation as Sona therapy progress and maybe she starting to let her true self (not trauma Sona) let out to do what a normal person will do in these situation or what a wife and mother do when someone threatens to harm their family . 

So but this chapter also raises New Question . Was it always the Meghna's plan to break up Sona and Hemant ( It established fact that she wants to hurt her and burn her down to ashes but why she waited so long after 10 years ? was it co - incidence ) and then Later for which she went out of city , She got new ally, Anjana Bajaj , who also shares the same interest ? Or She was the one who join the Anjana Baja ?  I hope in later chapter we get our answer . Who is the Main Conspirator ? Meghna or She ?


KUNAL x RAGINI 
Great Supporting Characters . They are both good people. Helping the couple to survive . 
Also , I think They kind of deserve each other , after whatever they faced in their life , After reforming themselves , They will be perfect fit for each other . 

This story deserves a at least One Good love story or One Normal Couple . I hope Either they get each other or They both get someone who value them and love . Specially Kunal , After going changing himself and He needs to start fresh . 

These two characters are like Little Hope . A small glimmer of Hope in this AGE OF DARKNESS . 





VIKRAM

 Bro ab to ek  Meeting set Karwa do Ek Michael King ke sath . 

Now , We got to see the glimpse of His nature , I hope he will do something drastic out of desperation , After all he is her Sister's Brother . There is no way He is not gonna go after Hemant . 
He saw Hemant as sheep or goat but He does not know  There is reason why GOAT is associated With EVIL and SATAN .

He saw Hemant as Goat and Hemant is a Goat but The MICHAEL KING Nope . HE IS BAPHOMET 

I hope some physical altercation happens between them . He needs to know and He needs to understand , He needs to swallow the Hard pill  , That though He thinks Hemant is nothing in front of him that is why He is so certain that After the Divorce He can start new life with sona very easily  but Michael King , He can never match THE MICHAEL KING , The Vigor , The Muscle , The confidence , He needs to get the idea that In Animal Kingdom and Hierarchy , Michael Stands so much above him  and That is why Sona can never leave him Hemant . I want something like,  VIKRAM will misinterpret the whole situation  because He does not understand the Sona's love for Hemant and why Even after so much her hesitation  to leave him  Because Of course If she had loved Hemant she would have never sleep with him in first place , So He may now took it as The reason she only got involved with him for sex and excited He gave to her , But now THE MICHAEL KING is here , She does not need him now , She simply used him which will break his heart after feeling used  . I hope something like this happen . I dont want him  to take the Stoic route here , So my Love Sona though i love you very much but You love Hemant more than me , You two deserve each other bullshit or something . I mean I dont expect  If Michael and VIKRAM ever get to meet face to face   Michael just gonna suck it up like a good boy and does nothing . I mean I expect Hemant to just simply ignore him but MICHAEL nope , That will be so opposite and Then what is the point of whole transformation , If Michael and Hemant gives same reaction in every same situations .


Hemant x Sona VS Michael x Sona 

I loved what you did there . There interaction and That KISS , She thought it was Hemant but It was Michael but Hemant took control because only Hemant knew that it was wrong . I dont think Michael would have care . 
But Michael is also a lover , He loved many women in his past , So of course If Michael rises He is also gonna love her wife , better than Hemant if i am not wrong . Here I am confuse About Michael Character ,  Its like He is same Hemant but with higher Body count . lol 

 Though I am confused , Who was interacting with Sona there ? Michael or Hemant . The whole Transformation scene is little bit Confusing for me . Is Michael gonna wake up slowly , day by day . If Michael is rising slowly then why we cant see How Michael interact or see Sona . This Whole transformation part is little bit Confusing for me . 

What i want to see . The MICHAEL treats Sona as beautiful , Sexy women , not Hemant's wife . I mean any guy like him wants to bed the beautiful women , and Specially The one who was living with him .  I dont know if its good thing or bad . Sona needs to feel the change , The man she loves is not the one in front of him . 

I want to leave this , see how how this unfold . But Please no meaning less sex . There should be some built up . 

And Now . The Main Reveal . The First Antagonist . 

ANJANA BAJAJ

To be honest that was so unexpected  . After 20 Chapters , With so many characters , so many Enemy , She Stood tall in front of them  . 

Who is she ? A Sister who simply wants her brother to have everything , His happiness top most priority for her .

What is her past ? Who she truly is ? Why she would go to that extend just to kill HEMANT or MICHAEL KING . 

The idea that Her brother loves Sona , and she simply wants him to have  Sona , So He finally finds his peace and Starts his own family with the women he loves  but Sona's marriage is an obstruction , So thought of removing Her husband from the equation . Perfectly Shows the EGOIST , Maniacal , and GREED of Some Super Rich people . The Natural feeling and sense of Entitlement to have simply whatever they desire . 

BUT ? Is that all  ?  A Sister looking after her brother ? I dont think so . 

Two Scenario :- 

1. She went after Hemant , and maybe hired some one to get some dirt on him , His past  was unknown to her , and after learning that , He is not some average Vadapao  guy lol , He is The Michael King . And She got Scared after learning that What He can do and What he is capable of .So in order to protect her Brother because of course Any Michael king type of guy would butcher the guy who fuck his wife irrespective of whatever the reason , Because It is his reputation is on the line , He will act and Ruthlessly kill the guy just to send message NOT to fuck WITH HIM . So she seeks out his Enemy , who thought He is dead  and colluding with them , To take out MICHAEL, Take their revenge  and Maybe after learning what Meghna trying to do with Sona , She also Colluding with Meghna To take away Sona from Michael . Neutralizing him from Both Front . First Break him from inside by making her wife betraying him , Breaking his trust , making his whole life fall apart in front of him  and then let his enemy feeds whatever is left . 

2. There is Some History between Her and MICHAEL . Something happened in past and carved a hatred so deep which is fueling her desire to take revenge , Something so personal that She is using her own brother in her ploy . This is not some business rivaling , There must be someone MICHAEL had killed who was so dear to ANJANA . That is Why her wrath , A WOMAN' WRATH unleashing on HEMANT .  

To be honest I prefer the 2nd one . We need to know more Michael's Past . 

Till now the The whole Anti Hero Image is kind of suss , I mean what ever he did and he will do its like Han thik hai koi bhi karega , But not like Oh shit ,That was really fucked up thing he did But He is protagonist so its fine   . I mean I want to feel that internal dilemma like He should not have done that but So what ? Its Michael    .

Love this TWIST . BEST TILL NOW . I hope its get more twisted .


And the BEST PART OF WHOLE CHAPTER  *THE LESBIAN LOVE MAKING  * 

Who wrote that part , Did you seek out some  help , Or its just imagination with some with Porno . 

So erotic and domination part was so perfectly written sensual but rough , loved every part of it . This could easily be on TOP . Now , I think We need more of Women lovemaking scenario . You said you insert the erotic part later , So Insert More    .

Also  I like the Couple , One is the enemy of Hemant and Other One is totally in awe of Hemant . I hope their will be conflict between them when she came to know that the guy she idolizes is getting destroys by the women she loves . Now We finally have some one who can shows Who Meghna truly is . This is good .Or I hope she is not gonna join her . 

And one more thing that deserves the ROUND OF APPLAUSE , Even after 21 Chapters you still holding out most of the secrets and like I am still confuse little , How Sona's father is responsible for Meghna mother's death by his father's hand , Am  I missing something ? Later she got adopted or Sona's father became her Legal Guardian ? Right ? How old was Sona and Meghna When she killed Sona's sister ? May be it was explained and might have missed some Information here . 

AND NOW THE the PART THAT DESERVES THE ROUND OF APPLAUSE .    

The Last Paragraph . 11/10 . BEST PARA IN WHOLE STORY TILL NOW , At least for me . 

The whole reveal , The Action sequence . The whole Back and Forth between Shanghai and Azerbaijan . In one scene  we can see ourselves what other is describing in the other scene . 
Perfectly written . What I could say more , THAT IS SO EASY FOR YOU . 

Some Men Never learns.  ZARIR . Man i just feel pity for him . He is blind fool . 

THAT was Some ABSOLUTE CINEMA . 



Perfectly written . I am just keeping it Simple . Its was beautifully written and I loved that part . The felt excited while reading that . I read it in awe , The whole scenario was playing in my mind , Michael , His rings  Walking down in Rain . I dont know what to write more . I love that part so much that's it . I always say this the same line ,
Its just so exhilarating  The way you wrote the whole action sequence from setting the atmosphere , Character's appearance , The action , The dialogue  and then ending with cliffhanger and followed by ONE LINER to end . The Perfect Format . I Simply love this . 

Its like 8 Months and 21 Chapter , And you never disappoints . The consistency that you have maintained , You out done yourself again again again with New updates . 

Thanks for this wonderful update , Harry . You are Best .

   .

[Jonnadula]

please update story sir

[SMOD-P]

Waiting

[Shiva shiva shiva]

update story sir

[Shiva shiva shiva]

Please update story sir

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                          CHAPTER 22

The air at the isolated docks of Mumbai Port carried a salty heaviness that matched the weight in Hemant’s chest. The steel corridors of YOD Industries’ factory echoed with the sound of grinding machines and welding sparks as workers assembled Alignment Knots destined for Private and Military Contractors and for a robust future. Yet, amidst the hum of production, Hemant felt detached, his mind ensnared in a storm of memory and dread. He had built all of this—an empire carved not through violence, but through vision and resilience—yet the ghost of Michael King, the persona he buried, whispered in the dark corners of his conscience. And now, that whisper grew louder, for his past was clawing its way back to him in the form of another Zarir.



He leaned against a railing overlooking the assembly line, staring down at the men in hard hats and grease-stained uniforms. They worked with discipline, loyalty, and faith in him, their leader. For them, he wasn’t Michael King, the vigilante of blood and fire; he was Hemant—the founder, the provider, the visionary. But inside him the tremors were undeniable. Zarir’s return was not merely the resurfacing of an old enemy; it was the reawakening of every scar, every scream, every crimson night that Michael King had painted when vengeance was his only creed. He wondered whether these men, these loyal workers, could ever imagine the blood-drenched shadows that still stalked their leader’s soul.



He remembered Father Dominic’s voice from decades past, calling him Michael the Archangel, the soldier of God. At the time, the name was a weapon, a holy armor to justify the carnage he unleashed on evil men around the world. But when he closed his eyes now, he saw the faces of Manush Rustom’s family—the innocent lives extinguished before him, the cries that tore at his humanity. It wasn’t their killers’ blood on his hands that haunted him most, but the helplessness of not saving the ones who mattered. And now, with the Zarir name rising, the old guilt sharpened into a new blade pressing against his chest.



His personal life was already in ruins. Sonarika’s betrayal had left a canyon of emptiness within him. Divorce cooling period had reduced their marriage to a dystopian world, and Karan, his son, was caught in the middle of it. Hemant swore his son would never feel abandoned, but what if this Zarir conflict's shadow consumed him once again? What if Michael King returned and devoured Hemant, leaving behind a man Karan could no longer recognize? His heart ached with the dual torment of broken love and resurfacing vengeance, two forces threatening to fracture him entirely.



Anjali’s Garuda ring pressed firmly against his finger, warm with symbolism. She had told him it was a reminder that he was more than just a husband, more than just a businessman—he was destined for something greater, as Garuda was to Vishnu. On his other hand, the Archangel ring glistened under the factory’s dim lights, a relic of Michael King’s reign. Together, the two rings felt like anchors, pulling him in opposite directions yet urging him toward a synthesis. Perhaps he need not choose between Hemant and Michael. Perhaps he could be something more—a force forged from both identities, purified of their weaknesses, honed into a man capable of striking down Daraaksh and the AZRAEL syndicate without drowning in bloodlust.



He thought of Roy Harper’s words: Never go back, only forward. Harper, seasoned by wars across continents now part of ANVIL, had seen men destroyed by nostalgia for their darker selves. Hemant knew his friend was right. If he became Michael King again, he would fall into that same darkness, confirming the enemy’s belief that he was nothing more than a relic of vengeance. But if he remained only Hemant, the soft-hearted family man who had once been deceived under his own roof, he would never survive what was coming. The truth was clearer now than ever—he needed to merge the fire of Michael with the resolve of Hemant, becoming something neither of them could be alone.



As he walked deeper into the factory, the machines roaring around him like war drums, he felt his turmoil harden into resolve. His empire was no illusion; YOD Industries was his fortress, his people his army. He had Raquel, sharp and loyal, by his side. He had Harper, the hardened soldier, and ANVIL’s resources at his call. He had the blessing of Anjali’s faith and the symbol of Father Dominic’s christening. He was not just a common man standing at the edge of despair. He was Hemant Kumar—the amalgam of past and present, family and vengeance, creation and destruction. And when the time came to face Zarir and the syndicate of AZRAEL, he would not rise as Michael King nor remain as Hemant alone. He would ascend as something new, something inevitable: a primordial force of order and justice born from fire, betrayal, and more than human.



SOME TIME LATER AT A LOCATION OUTSIDE MUMBAI



The test ground on the landscape of Karjat buzzed with anticipation. The sprawling patch of rugged terrain had been chosen carefully—it had swamps, uneven rocky paths, and deep trenches, the perfect crucible for the first trial of YOD Industries’ new armored All-Terrain Vehicle. Soldiers in fatigues and engineers in factory overalls stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the dark steel beast gleaming under the morning sun. Hemant arrived with his security and Raquel at his side, his face carrying a calmness that concealed the storm inside. Today wasn’t about personal wounds or ghosts from the past; today was about proving that his empire had real weight in the defense of the nation.


"Impressive machine you’ve built here, Hemant" 

The deep, authoritative voice of Brigadier Rajat Sharma was heard as he approached. His presence commanded respect, a soldier of decades of wars and discipline. Hemant turned and saluted instinctively, though he was not in uniform.

"Sir, it’s an honor to have you here" Hemant replied, his voice steady. 

"This vehicle… it’s the culmination of everything we’ve been working on at YOD. Our engineers, our design teams, they’ve poured everything into this"

Brigadier Sharma placed a firm hand on his shoulder. 

"The Army doesn’t hand out opportunities like this lightly. You’re being tested not just for your machines, but for your intent. Remember that"


The trial began with a low rumble as the prototype roared to life. Its armored plating gleamed, and its massive wheels crushed the ground beneath. Soldiers cheered lightly as it powered through the swamp without slowing, then climbed a rocky incline with ease. Engineers noted down performance stats, every bounce, every stress point. Hemant watched silently, heart pounding—not with fear, but with the pride of a creator watching his vision come alive.

"Next, the ammunition test" announced one of the defense officials. 


A turret mounted on the vehicle swiveled into position, loading a heavy round. With a thunderous crack, the shell fired into the testing range, obliterating a mock target bunker in a cloud of dust and smoke. The recoil was absorbed seamlessly by the vehicle’s stabilizers. Then came the rapid-fire sequence: machine guns rattled off controlled bursts, striking every marked target with precision. One official, Colonel Bhagat, whistled under his breath. 

"That’s not just efficient, that’s elegant. Your balancing of armor weight with maneuverability… it’s leagues ahead of anything we’ve tested locally"

Brigadier Sharma turned toward Hemant, raising an eyebrow. 

"And you designed this with private military operations in mind as well, didn’t you?"

Hemant nodded. 

"Yes, sir. The specifications allow interoperability with ANVIL and other military forces. But make no mistake—this design was tailored first and foremost for the Indian Army. Its spirit lies here, defending our soil"

The brigadier studied him for a long moment, then cracked a rare smile. 

"Good answer"

As the vehicle completed its firepower demonstration, maneuvering across steep terrain while unleashing calculated rounds, the officials murmured among themselves.

Finally, Brigadier Sharma raised his hand, silencing the chatter. 


"Gentlemen, I don’t need a second trial. This vehicle has surpassed our expectations. Its adaptability, firepower, and durability are of the highest order. On behalf of the Indian Army, I am sanctioning an exclusive license for YOD Industries to begin production. The government contract is yours, Hemant"


There was an audible stir among the gathered men. Engineers clapped each other on the back, soldiers nodded approvingly, and Raquel allowed herself a proud smile. Hemant, however, stood still for a moment, absorbing the weight of the words. This wasn’t just a business victory—it was validation, proof that his empire was built on more than shadows of his past.


"Thank you, Brigadier" Hemant finally said, his voice heavy with gratitude. 


"You have my word—this contract won’t just be a business venture. It’ll be a responsibility. YOD will serve the nation with everything it has"


Brigadier Sharma looked him in the eye. 

"See that you do, Hemant. Success brings power. Power brings enemies. But it also brings purpose. Never forget which of the three is worth holding onto"


As the officials began drafting papers and the engineers continued to inspect the vehicle, Hemant felt something unfamiliar in the chaos of his broken life—a warmth spreading through his chest. It wasn’t the hollow pride of Michael King’s victories, nor the fleeting happiness of his once-perfect family. It was the steady, grounding strength of success born from creation, not destruction. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps he could rise above the ruins of betrayal and vengeance. Perhaps, after all, this was the beginning of the man he was meant to become.



The factory floor at YOD Industries was alive with celebration that evening. Word of the government contract had spread like wildfire, and workers were gathered in clusters, buzzing with excitement. Hemant stood on the mezzanine, looking down at the men and women who had made this day possible—the welders, the machinists, the engineers, the designers, every pair of hands that had contributed to the armored vehicle’s success. When he descended the stairs and stepped into the crowd, silence fell almost instantly, all eyes turning toward him.



"You’ve all worked harder than anyone could ask for" 

Hemant began, his voice carrying through the vast hall. 

"This victory doesn’t belong to me—it belongs to every one of you who put your sweat, your skill, and your loyalty into building what we achieved today. The Indian Army’s trust is not mine alone to bear, it is yours too. And today, I want you to know how much I value you" 

With a nod to Raquel, crates were brought out—boxes filled with gifts, envelopes, and cash bonuses. Workers gasped, their faces lighting up as they realized what was happening.

One of the older workers, gray streaking his beard, stepped forward hesitantly. 

"Sir, no one has ever treated us this way. We work because it is our duty, but today… you’ve made us feel like family" 

The words were met with murmurs of agreement, heads nodding, and even a few moist eyes in the crowd. Hemant reached out, clasping the man’s shoulder. 

"This company is nothing without you. If I am to lead, then it will be by standing with you, not above you"

The hall erupted in cheers, workers lifting their gifts high, clapping and chanting Hemant’s name. It was not the reverence born of fear, as Michael King had once commanded, nor the shallow respect of business circles that only cared for profits. This was something purer—loyalty earned through care and humility. Hemant allowed himself a rare smile, a genuine one, as he stood among his people, feeling for the first time in weeks that he belonged somewhere.


As the celebration carried on, Hemant leaned against a steel pillar, watching his employees laugh, sing, and embrace. For a brief moment, the nightmares of Sonarika’s betrayal and his enemies’s looming vengeance were pushed into the background. This, he realized, was his true strength—not vengeance, not fear, but the ability to create, to inspire, to give. And as long as moments like these existed, he knew he could endure the shadows of his past and forge something greater in the future.



THAT EVENING AT HOME




The apartment smelled faintly of craft glue and vinegar as Hemant stepped inside, the sound of bubbling and laughter drifting from the living room. Karan was crouched on the floor with a cardboard volcano, paint streaked on his cheeks, while Anjali sat beside him with a mixing bowl. 

"Papa! Look!" Karan exclaimed, waving his hands. 


"We’re going to make the lava flow tonight!"


Hemant dropped his briefcase by the door, the tension of the day melting just a little as he watched his son’s eyes sparkle. 


"Ah, a science project" he said, crouching beside Karan. 

"Let me guess—baking soda and vinegar eruption?"

Karan grinned. 

"Yes! But Anju Didi says we need to add food coloring so it looks like real lava. Can you help me mix it?" 


Hemant nodded, rolling up his sleeves as Anjali smiled warmly at the two of them. For a moment, the apartment didn’t feel like a fractured household—it felt whole, alive, and innocent.


From the kitchen doorway, Sonarika stood silently, holding a cup of tea. She watched as Hemant carefully guided Karan’s small hands to pour the vinegar without spilling. Her lips trembled slightly, but she steadied herself. Two weeks of therapy with Neha Bharadwaj had given her a kind of fragile clarity. She knew she had broken something that might never be repaired, but seeing this—her son with his father—reminded her what she still had left to preserve. Anjali, glancing up at her sister, caught the distant look in her eyes. For days, doubts had been simmering inside her—whispers of a tension between Hemant and Sonarika that no one would name. Still, she smiled and encouraged Karan. 

"Careful, little scientist. Not too much, or your volcano will blow up the house"


The mixture fizzed violently, red foam spilling out of the cardboard crater. Karan clapped his hands, eyes wide with amazement. 

"It works! It really works!" 


Karan shouted, hugging Hemant tightly. Hemant chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair. 

"Of course it works. You’re a natural engineer, just like your Papa’s team at YOD"


Sonarika stepped closer, her voice soft. 

"You’re good with him… always have been" 

Hemant looked up at her briefly, their eyes locking for a moment too long before he looked away. 

"He deserves better than what life has thrown at him" 

Hemant replied, his tone quiet but firm. The words were aimed at the air, yet Sonarika felt their sting. Later that night, the apartment had quieted. Karan slept peacefully, curled up with his toy dinosaur, while Hemant and Sonarika lay side by side on the same bed yet worlds apart. For days they had shared this silence, a gulf stretching wider with every night. But tonight, she spoke first. 

"I heard about the government contract. Anju told me. I… I’m proud of you, Hemant"

His breath caught, then released. 

"It feels good" he admitted slowly, staring at the ceiling. 

"To be seen. To be appreciated. Especially now, when my life is a ruin"

She bit her lip. That awkward silence between them stayed for some time. After which it was Hemant's turn to break it.

"How's the therapy?" 

"The therapy… it’s helping. Neha gave me books, exercises. I’m… finding ways to hold myself together"

Hemant turned his head toward her, his eyes shadowed. 

"I don’t know if I should be glad or furious when I hear that"

"Why furious?" Her brows furrowed.

"Because the man in me who still loves you feels relief that you’re healing. But the man you betrayed… hates that you aren’t suffering more" 

His voice broke on the last word, rawer than he wanted. Tears pricked her eyes. Instead of recoiling, she nodded slowly. 


"I understand that. Because I hate myself too, Hemant. For what I’ve become. For throwing away the love you carried for me. I was blind. Ungrateful. I destroyed what we built with my own hands. And no matter what I do now, I can’t undo the damage. Not to you. Not to us"


Silence hung between them, broken only by the faint hum of the ceiling fan. Finally, he whispered, 

"So… have you given up on us completely?"

Her chest tightened. 

"A part of me wants to fight for us. But the truth I’ve begun to see in therapy is… I’m not the woman I once was. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Until I find her again, I can’t pretend to be the partner you deserve. Right now, I am poison to you. And yet—” 

Her voice trembled. 

“You were always the best man I could have had. If I ever heal, if I ever find myself again, it will only be because of you"

His throat burned, but he forced the words out. 

"My heart… it’s broken beyond repair, Sonarika. I can’t imagine love anymore. I have Karan. That’s all I need"

She wept silently into the dark. 

"Then let our love live through him. Promise me, Hemant—no matter how deep this rift becomes—we will never let him feel abandoned. Never let him believe his parents failed him"

Hemant turned toward her, his face hard but his eyes softening. Slowly, he extended his hand. 

"I promise"

Her fingers slipped into his, trembling, and for the first time in weeks they held each other—not as lovers, not as husband and wife, but as two shattered souls clutching at the only light left between them. And in that moment, the silence was not empty—it was full of grief, guilt, and a fragile pact to protect the boy who was the last echo of their once-beautiful love.


Hemant stirred awake in the morning, the weight of the previous night still pressing against his chest. Sonarika was already sitting up, her hair falling loosely across her shoulders as she folded Karan’s institute uniform on her lap. She didn’t look at Hemant, not immediately. For a moment, the silence was so delicate that it almost felt like peace. Almost.

Karan’s small footsteps broke the quiet as he burst into the room, holding a half-finished drawing. "Papa! Mumma! Look, I drew the volcano from last night! It even has lava!" 

He climbed onto the bed, thrusting the paper forward with a proud grin. Hemant smiled faintly, pulling his son into his lap. 

"It’s perfect. A true scientist and an artist"


Sonarika watched the two of them, her chest tightening at the sight. She forced a smile and reached over to adjust Karan’s collar. 

"You’ll be the smartest in your class today" she said softly. 


For a flicker of a second, the three of them looked like a family untouched by betrayal, untouched by bitterness.

"Papa, are you coming to see my project at institute later?" 

Karan asked, eyes wide with expectation. Hemant hesitated, glancing toward Sonarika. She met his eyes, a silent plea resting there, urging him not to fail their son. 

"Of course I’ll come" Hemant finally said, stroking Karan’s hair. 

"I wouldn’t miss it for the world" The boy squealed with joy, hugging him tightly.

After Karan ran off to the bathroom to wash up, the air between Hemant and Sonarika grew heavy again. She folded the uniform with deliberate precision, avoiding his gaze. 

"He still believes in us" she whispered, almost to herself. 

"He sees us as whole"

Hemant leaned back against the headboard, his jaw tightening. 

"That’s why we can’t let him see the cracks. Not now. Not ever" 

His tone was sharp but resolute, carrying both love and pain. She looked up at him then, her eyes glistening. 

"I don’t know how long I can keep pretending, Hemant. But I’ll do it. For him. He deserves at least that much"

For a moment, Hemant’s face softened. He wanted to say something—anything—that could bridge the abyss between them, but the words died in his throat. Instead, he simply nodded. 

"We promised last night, didn’t we? We’ll hold the line for him. Whatever it takes"

Karan reappeared, his face wet from washing, his tie dangling awkwardly around his neck. Sonarika laughed faintly, the sound brittle yet genuine, as she knelt to fix it for him. Hemant watched quietly, remembering the woman she used to be—the one who laughed like that all the time, who filled the room with warmth. For a heartbeat, he almost believed she could be that woman again. As the three of them stepped out together—Hemant carrying Karan’s bag, Sonarika holding her son’s hand—the neighbors in the hallway smiled at the picture they made. To the world, they were still a family, still whole. Only inside their hearts did the fractures ache.


Hemant lingered by the door as Sonarika walked ahead with Karan. For all the betrayal, for all the hurt, a single thought rooted itself in his mind as he watched his son skip happily: This… this is why he cannot break. This is why he must endure. He closed the door gently behind him, the faintest whisper escaping his lips, unheard by either of them: 

"For him, I’ll carry it all"


The institute's yard was alive with chatter and excitement, children running in circles with their half-finished projects clutched in small, eager hands. Cardboard solar systems, hand-drawn charts of plants, and crude models of bridges filled the classrooms. Hemant stood just outside the door of Karan’s classroom, adjusting his cufflinks as if they were armor. He wasn’t used to this world—the world of PTA meetings and childhood science fairs—but today he had promised. And Hemant never broke promises to his son.



Inside, Karan stood proudly beside his volcano, the paint still bright from the night before. His classmates whispered and pointed, impressed by the towering cardboard mountain. Sonarika sat quietly at the back of the room, her hands folded in her lap. Her heart raced when she saw Hemant step inside, the tall frame of him filling the doorway. Karan’s face lit up instantly, brighter than anything she’d seen in weeks.



"Papa! You came!" Karan shouted across the room, his teacher smiling at the enthusiasm. 

Hemant gave a small wave, his stern expression softening into something almost childlike when he approached his son’s desk. 

"Of course I did. I said I wouldn’t miss it, didn’t I?" he said, crouching down to Karan’s level.


The presentation began. Karan carefully explained the eruption, his small voice shaking at first, but strengthening when he glanced at his father. 

"When vinegar mixes with baking soda, it makes carbon dioxide, which makes the volcano explode! Just like a real one!" 

At that, the red foam bubbled up and spilled across the cardboard, drawing gasps and claps from his classmates.

Sonarika’s eyes blurred with tears. The look on Karan’s face—the pride, the joy—was something she thought she’d ruined forever. Yet here it was again, rekindled by Hemant’s presence. She caught herself staring at him, at the way his hand rested gently on their son’s shoulder, grounding him, steadying him. For a moment, she saw the man she had once fallen in love with, before ambition, betrayal, and heartbreak had corroded everything between them.

After the applause, the teacher approached Hemant. 

"Your son has a brilliant mind. He explained everything so well. You must be proud, Mr. Kumar" 

Hemant glanced at Karan, then at Sonarika at the back of the room. His voice was quiet, but firm. 

"Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it"


When the class was dismissed, Karan rushed to both his parents, grabbing their hands in his small fists. 

"Did you see? Did you both see? Everyone clapped for me!" 

His joy was uncontainable, his laughter pure. Hemant and Sonarika exchanged a look over their son’s head—wordless, heavy, but not hostile. It was a look that said: For him, we will stand together, even if only in shadows. On the walk back to the car, Karan skipped ahead, humming to himself. Sonarika walked a step behind Hemant, finally breaking the silence. 

"He shines the most when you’re there. You’re… the anchor he leans on"

Hemant’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look at her, but his words were steady. 

"Then we’ll make sure he never feels that anchor slip. No matter what we’ve done to each other, he will never carry our sins"

Her voice trembled. 

"I don’t deserve the grace you show me, Hemant. But I will give everything I have left to keep that promise with you. He deserves at least that much"

At that, Hemant finally turned to her, his eyes dark, wounded, but resolute. 

"This isn’t about grace. This is about survival. For him"

Sonarika lowered her gaze, her throat tight, but for the first time in weeks she didn’t feel defensiveness or denial—only acceptance. Walking side by side, the fractured couple watched their son dart ahead, his small figure glowing in the morning sun. And in that fragile moment, both of them realized: Karan was not only their bond, he was their only redemption.


That night, the apartment was quieter than usual. The echoes of Karan’s laughter from the science fair still lingered in Hemant’s memory like a bittersweet song. His son had gone to bed early, exhausted from all the excitement, and Anjali had retired to her room. The living room was dimly lit by the glow of a single lamp, and the silence between Hemant and Sonarika was heavy enough to suffocate.

Hemant sat on the couch, a glass of water untouched in his hand, staring blankly at the shadows on the wall. Sonarika stood near the balcony, her arms crossed, as if bracing herself against an unseen wind. Finally, she broke the silence. 

"He was so happy today" she said softly. 

"I don’t remember the last time I saw him that alive"

Hemant’s voice was low, almost hoarse. 

"Because for once, we were both there. Together. He doesn’t see the cracks yet. To him, everything is still whole" 

He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking on her. 

"But we know better"

Her lips trembled. 

"Yes. We do" She paused, then whispered. 

"It kills me, Hemant. Seeing him like that, knowing what I’ve done to us. Knowing how I destroyed the one thing that mattered most to you"

Hemant clenched his fist around the glass until his knuckles turned white. 

"You didn’t just destroy us, Sonarika. You destroyed the part of me that believed love could survive anything. I look at you, and sometimes I want to remember the woman I fell in love with… but then I see the one who chose someone else over me. And it tears me apart"

Her eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t look awayShe finally spoke, her voice trembling, yet firm with the weight of confession. 


"Hemant… I don’t see Vikram as a mistake" she said. 

"He was someone who… filled the void I felt when you chased the future, when you chased the empire you’re building. He connected with me in my vulnerabilities, in the things I couldn’t speak out loud. With him, I felt seen. And in that connection… I lost myself in the passion of it"

The words struck Hemant like daggers. He lifted his eyes, hollow and pained, meeting hers. His voice came out sharp, almost mocking. 

"So tell me then, Sonarika. What was I? A placeholder? A shadow you tolerated until your savior showed up?" 

His voice cracked, bitter irony spilling out. 

"Did I even exist in you at all?"

Tears welled in her eyes, but she shook her head. 

"Don’t twist it that way. I always loved you, Hemant. Always. If Vikram had walked into my life in our early days, I wouldn’t even have looked at him. Back then, I was happy—fulfilled—living with you, in your love, in our world. But somewhere down the line, we were vulnerable and distant to each other. And in that distance, Vikram came near and reached me"

Hemant let out a hollow laugh, his lips curling in cruelty masking agony. 

"And then he fulfilled you even more, isn’t it?"

The sting of his words made her chest tighten, but she steadied herself. 

"No. Don’t say that. Vikram is Vikram, and you are you. There is no comparison. The fault isn’t in either of you—it’s in me. I am the culprit. I am the one who failed"

His face hardened, a deep shadow in his gaze. 

"So is that why you’re leaving me for him? Because you’ve decided I’m the stronger one, the one who can handle the abandonment?"

At that, Sonarika broke, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

"Leaving you is the last thing I want, Hemant. Don’t you understand? I still love you. But I know, deep down, you’re stronger than Vikram. You’re mature, you’re resilient. If anyone can survive me, it’s you" 

She choked on her words. 

"I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish I could undo everything. But life doesn’t give us that mercy"

Hemant’s voice trembled, his pain boiling to the surface. 

"And now you’re telling me to be open to love again? That maybe some other woman will come, make me whole again? Give Karan the sibling we planned for?" 

His voice broke at the word sibling, a knife twisting deep in his chest. 

"Do you know what that does to me, Sonarika? That was our dream. Our family. And now you throw it like it’s nothing but a consolation prize"

Her sobs grew heavier, guilt gnawing at her from within. 

"It’s not nothing. It’s everything I destroyed. I still love you, Hemant. I want to fix us. But I’ve accepted—I can’t just wipe away the mess. It will take more than love to heal what I’ve broken. I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to what we had"

Hemant’s fists clenched as he tried to contain his rage. 

"And yet Vikram is still in the picture. Still haunting us. Still holding a piece of you"

Her head dropped, her voice faint. 

"In my last conversation with him, he told me he was willing to love me with half a heart… because even half a heart can beat. And those words—" 

She faltered, pain etched across her face.

"—those words made me realize how broken I’ve become. How much I’ve allowed myself to shatter everything"

Hemant rose suddenly, towering over her, his face etched with fury and devastation. 

"So that’s it, then? You admit you still hold him inside you? That after everything, you’d rather cling to the man who offered you half a heart than the one who gave you his entire soul?" 

His voice broke. 

"When you start a life with him, Sonarika, give me a fair warning. Because I’ll need to prepare myself for the next storm you’ll unleash"

Her knees nearly buckled under the weight of his words, her tears flowing freely. 

"Hemant…" she whispered. 

"I know I’m ruining you further. I know. And I can’t bear it. But still, I beg you—don’t close your heart forever. Don’t become a broken man for life. Not for me. Not for my sins"

Hemant turned away, his body trembling. He forced the words out, sharp with anger. 

"Worry about your man, Sonarika. Not me"

She stepped closer, voice fragile but steady. 

"You don’t understand… for me even right now , my man is you , it is still you!”


For a long moment, silence filled the space between them—thick, suffocating, unyielding. Finally, Hemant walked back to the bedroom, the weight of his pain dragging with him. Sonarika followed quietly, both of them lying down on opposite sides of the same bed, worlds apart, yet tied together by their son. In the darkness, their breaths were uneven, heavy with sorrow. And as they drifted into a restless sleep, the broken couple buried their pain beneath the fragile pact they made—for Karan, and only for him.


As the morning brightened the sky. The alarm buzzed, but Hemant was already awake, staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes. Beside him, Sonarika shifted, her back still turned to him, her breathing uneven—half-asleep, half-drifting in her thoughts. Their silence from the night before still clung to the air, heavy and unspoken. The sound of small footsteps broke the weight of the atmosphere. Karan, clutching his institute project in both hands, peeked into the bedroom. 

"Papa? Mumma? Wake up! I want to show you how the volcano looks in the morning light!" 

His voice carried the kind of unfiltered joy only a child could muster. Hemant forced a smile, sitting up. 

"Coming, champ" he said softly, though his throat felt tight. 

Sonarika turned too, wiping her eyes quickly so Karan wouldn’t notice. She pushed herself up and followed Hemant out of the room. In the dining area, Anjali was already preparing breakfast, humming faintly. She glanced at the couple and noticed the distance in their expressions, but she didn’t pry. Instead, she focused on Karan, who was busy placing his little volcano on the dining table. 

"Look, Papa, Mumma! When I pour the red liquid, it looks real!" Karan exclaimed with pride.

Hemant crouched beside him, ruffling his hair. 

"That’s brilliant, Karan. You’ve done a wonderful job" 

His voice carried genuine warmth, the kind of love that no amount of heartbreak could erase. Sonarika bent down as well, her smile tender. 

"I’m so proud of you, beta. You’re going to amaze everyone in college" 

For a moment, both parents were side by side, their admiration for their son pulling them together despite the chasm in their hearts. Karan beamed at them. 

"We should do more projects together! Papa, Mama, and me. Then it will always be fun" 

His innocent words sliced through the tension. Hemant’s smile faltered for the briefest second, but he masked it quickly. 

"Of course, champ. Always" 

He said, though inside he wondered if 'always' was a lie he was telling his son—or himself. Breakfast began soon after, with Anjali serving parathas and tea. Karan chattered endlessly about his project, about how he wanted to build a bigger volcano next time, maybe even a solar system model. Sonarika laughed softly, engaging with him, while Hemant listened in silence, his eyes fixed on Karan but his mind adrift.

At one point, Karan turned to him and asked. 

"Papa, will you come to the science fair next week? Mama already said yes" 

The question hung heavy in the air. Hemant swallowed hard, nodding. 

"I’ll be there, Karan. No matter what"

Across the table, Sonarika glanced at him. The weight of his words carried more than just a promise to his son—it was a vow, silent but clear, that despite everything between them, Hemant would never fail Karan. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and though filled with pain, there was also a fragile understanding. Anjali noticed the exchange, her suspicion quietly growing, but she kept her silence. Instead, she asked Karan about the institute, giving Hemant and Sonarika a chance to hide the storm behind their carefully chosen smiles. As breakfast ended, Karan ran off to pack his bag, leaving the two adults in the dining room with their unspoken truths. Sonarika touched the rim of her teacup, her voice low. 

"He really brings us back, doesn’t he?"

Hemant nodded, his jaw tightening. 

"He’s the only thing holding us together" 

The words carried both comfort and sorrow, a truth neither of them could deny. In the quiet that followed, they shared one last look—two broken souls tethered by their child, trying to hold themselves together for the sake of his innocence.

                                                                                                                                                                                   (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                  (CHAPTER CONTD)

SOMETIME LATER AT TANISHQ



The sprawling glass facade of the TANISHQ office glittered in the afternoon sun. Inside, the twelth floor buzzed with the efficiency of boardrooms, ringing phones, and the muted clicks of heels on polished floors. Here, strategies for nationwide expansions and multi-crore vendor deals were decided. It was a place where power dressed in subtle suits and gold logos gleamed from every wall.


Sonarika sat in her corner cabin, the glass wall framing a skyline. The title Chief Operations Manager was etched onto the glass door in bold, dignified letters. Her desk was lined with reports awaiting her signature — procurement forecasts, retailer agreements, new product rollouts. Colleagues often said she was the backbone of this office, the one who kept the machinery of TANISHQ’s Mumbai hub moving without friction.


But today, her mind was not on jewelry margins or annual contracts. Her eyes skimmed words on the quarterly performance sheets, yet all she saw was Hemant’s broken expression from last night. All she heard was the crack in his voice when she’d mentioned another woman, another child. Her chest tightened, and she reached for the slim folder at the corner of her desk — her therapy notes. Journaling, breathing, affirmations. Balance. Neha Bharadwaj’s handwriting on the last page read: Find your anchor before you drown.


A knock at the door startled her. It was her deputy, Tejas, holding a file. 

"Ma’am, these vendor contracts need your review before the CFO meeting. We’re finalizing the supply chain for Diwali season"

She nodded, slipping the therapy notes under a stack of documents. 

"Leave it here, Tejas. I’ll get it done before lunch"

As he placed the file, he gave her a tentative look. 

"Everything alright, Ma’am? You seem… a little distracted today"

The corners of her mouth lifted into a polite professional smile, one she had perfected over the years. 

"Just tired. Late night with work and my son’s college project"

He smiled knowingly, reassured. 

"Ah, the volcano model? My nephew had the same one last year. Baking soda and vinegar chaos"

She forced a chuckle. 

"Exactly that. Thank you, Tejas" 

When he left, her mask slipped. Her fingers tightened around the pen, and she exhaled deeply, fighting the fog in her chest. Her phone buzzed. Vikram. His name flashed against the glass of her desk, cutting through her silence. After a moment of hesitation, she answered.

"Soni?" Vikram’s velvety tone poured into her ear, warm and steady. 

"I was thinking about you. How are you holding up today?"

She leaned back, eyes drifting to the monsoon-grey skyline. 

"I’m… surviving. Yesterday, Karan had his science project — a volcano eruption model. I helped him put it together. Watching his excitement… it made me feel normal, at least for a while"

"That’s wonderful" Vikram said sincerely. 

"You’re a natural with him. Don’t ever doubt it — you’re a great mother. Karan is lucky to have you"

Her lips trembled into a faint smile. 

"Thank you. I needed that reassurance"

He teased. 

"Do you remember Bali? The snorkeling trip the first day? You panicked in the water and nearly dragged me down with you"

She laughed despite herself. 

"You’ll never let me live Bali down"

"Never. Because terrified or not, you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen"

"You and your words.....its sometimes so intoxicating and alluring"

"Well...you bring it out of me"

Her smile faltered into silence. 

"Vicky… I argued with Hemant last night. He told me he’s lost faith in love. And I—I may have made it worse. I told him maybe another woman would come into his life someday, give him the family I couldn’t. I even said… a sibling for Karan. I saw how much that cut him"

Vikram’s tone softened, though he tried to lighten the blow. 

"That’s hard… but if Karan needs a sibling, maybe I can help by putting one in you"

“VICKY!” she gasped, torn between exasperation and reluctant warmth. 

"Not now. Please. Don’t talk about sex — I can’t even think about that. you’ll ruin my therapy"

"Therapy?" he echoed, almost scoffing. 

"Why? There’s nothing wrong with you, Soni. You just need to be with me — that’s all the healing you need"

Her voice steadied, firm but soft. 

"No, Vicky. Right now, I need to be with my truth. I need to find myself again. Only then can you — or anyone — have me. The real me. The woman who might love you back"

Silence stretched. Then, in a low voice, he asked.

"So… are you saying you do love me?"

She shut her eyes, pressing her temple. 

"No. I’m saying I don’t know yet. Not about us. Not about what we are. Maybe in the future I’ll see clearly. And then… maybe I’ll know your place in my life"

He exhaled. 

"Then I’ll wait. However long it takes"

When the call ended, her cabin returned to the hum of air-conditioning and muted chatter outside her glass wall. She glanced at her desk where two photos leaned against the pen holder. One — her and Vikram in Bali, laughter caught mid-motion. The other, half-hidden, from Karan’s birthday: her, Hemant, and Karan, a perfect frame of a family once whole.

She reached out, tracing both frames with trembling fingers. Two worlds. Two truths. Two men.

Her reflection in the glass window stared back at her — poised in a blazer, yet cracked within. 

'I need to find myself first' she whispered in her mind. 

'Only then will I know where my heart truly belongs'


The ringtone faded, leaving only the hush of the corporate hum around her. Sonarika straightened her blazer, pulled the files toward her, and slid the two photographs into her drawer. Her face, reflected faintly in the glass, hardened into something controlled, practiced. The Chief Operations Manager could not afford to let tremors of the heart spill into a room where crores were on the table. Five minutes later, she walked into the executive boardroom, its long mahogany table gleaming under soft lights. Around it sat senior managers, finance heads, and two directors from Titan’s Bangalore headquarters, their laptops open, eyes already on the projected quarterly numbers. The air smelled of roasted coffee and anticipation.

"Good afternoon" she greeted, her voice crisp and level, betraying none of her inner turmoil. 

She took her seat at the head of the table, adjusting her notes. 

"Let’s begin with the supply chain outlook for Diwali. Vendor negotiations have been consolidated, and after reviewing Tejas’s draft, I’ve approved a new pricing model. It cuts overhead by 8.3% without compromising delivery schedules"

Heads nodded, pens scratched notes. The finance director leaned forward, impressed. 

"That’s remarkable. The market is volatile right now, and yet you’ve tightened costs without shrinking margins. Excellent work, Sonarika"

She smiled faintly — the kind of smile meant for the boardroom, not the heart. 

"We’ll also be launching our ‘Legacy’ collection earlier this year. The creative team in Bengaluru wanted a late October release, but I’ve pushed for mid-September. We’ll catch the pre-festival rush before competitors saturate the ads. The numbers suggest a potential 12% boost"

For the next hour, she led the room with precision — analyzing figures, defusing objections, and aligning strategies. When one of the directors raised a concern about overseas sourcing delays, she had data ready within seconds, quoting both risks and contingencies. By the end of the meeting, the mood had shifted from tense to energized. As people packed their laptops and papers, one of the senior managers whispered to another, just loud enough to be caught: 

"This is why she runs this office. Unshakable. Even under pressure"

Sonarika stood last, gathering her files. Her posture was steel, her aura commanding. But as the glass doors closed behind her and the noise of the boardroom faded, she allowed herself a single, shaky exhale. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her folder — not from fear of numbers, but from the storm of her heart. Walking back to her cabin, she felt the dual weight of her two worlds: the woman who carried an empire’s operations on her shoulders, and the woman who sat alone, whispering into her soul that she first needed to find herself before she could belong to anyone — Hemant or Vikram.


SOMETIME LATER AT NEHA'S CLINIC


That evening, Sonarika sat in the quiet, softly lit office of Dr. Neha Bharadwaj, her therapist. The walls were lined with books, plants softened the corners, and the faint smell of lavender incense lingered in the air. Unlike the gleaming corporate halls of Tanishq, this room felt warm, almost forgiving.

Neha leaned forward, her voice steady but gentle. 

"You look exhausted, Sonarika. Was it work, or something else today?"

Sonarika exhaled, sinking deeper into the couch. 

"Both. Work went well — really well, actually. We closed two major decisions today, and for two hours I was… invincible. Like the old me. But the moment I stepped out of the boardroom, I felt hollow again. Like the success belonged to someone else, not me"

Neha nodded, scribbling briefly. 

"That’s a common duality. The professional mask versus the personal storm. Tell me, did anything trigger the shift?"

"Yes" Sonarika’s eyes lowered to her hands, twisted in her lap. 

"Vikram called earlier. We talked about Karan, about Hemant… and about us. He tried to cheer me up, even joked in ways I wasn’t ready for. And for a moment, I smiled, I really did. But then guilt hit me like a wave. Guilt for Hemant. Guilt for even daring to feel better with someone else"

Her voice cracked, the control slipping. 

"I told Hemant last night that maybe he could find someone new someday, someone who could give Karan the sibling we never gave him. He looked at me like I stabbed him all over again. And maybe I did. Maybe I’m the storm that ruins both men"

Neha let the silence stretch, allowing Sonarika to breathe through her tears before speaking. 

"It sounds like you’re still defining yourself by what you are to these men — wife, lover, betrayer, mother. But who are you to yourself?"

Sonarika blinked, her tears halting, as though the question itself had stunned her. 

"I… I don’t know anymore" she whispered. 

"I used to be strong. I used to be someone Hemant admired. With Vikram, I felt seen, vulnerable, passionate. But in both, I lost… me"

Neha’s tone grew firmer. 

"Then that’s our work, Sonarika. Therapy is not to choose between them. It’s to find you again. Because only when you return to yourself can you decide who deserves a place in your life — if anyone at all. For now, let’s focus on you, not Hemant, not Vikram"


For the first time that day, Sonarika allowed herself to close her eyes and breathe slowly, the lavender wrapping around her like a cocoon. The boardroom mask slipped away. The lover’s guilt loosened. The broken wife’s sorrow quieted. And what remained — fragile, raw, uncertain — was simply Sonarika, a woman learning to exist again.



THAT EVENING SOMEWHERE IN BANDRA


The therapy session still echoed in Sonarika’s mind as she stepped into the dimly lit pub in Bandra, one she and Vikram had frequented so many times in their secret days. The familiar scent of beer, faint smoke, and loud laughter hit her like a wave of memory. For a moment, she felt the same rush she used to — the thrill of escape, of stepping into a different world where she wasn’t Hemant’s wife, but just a woman lost in Vikram’s orbit.

Vikram was already there, leaning against the polished wooden bar, dressed in his casual blazer with a warmth in his eyes that pulled her in immediately. He smiled when he saw her, that disarming, easy grin that once made her forget all her troubles.

"You’re late" he teased lightly, handing her a glass of wine. 

"I was starting to think you’d forgotten our little corner of the city"

Sonarika managed a soft laugh, sipping. 

"Some memories are impossible to forget"

“Like all the dances we've done in the past here in this dim light cocooning ourselves in our own personal happy space?” 

His eyes twinkled with mischief. She shook her head, embarrassed but smiling despite herself. 

"Always with the mischevious memories"

"Or" he leaned closer, lowering his voice. 

"That afternoon in marine drive where we shared a kiss beneath an umbrella , being so open and yet hidden from the world. Remember? I still have that photo planted on my wall"

The memory hit her like a soft flame. She remembered the salty air, the city lights, the warmth of his lips. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

"Yes… I remember"

Vikram studied her carefully but said nothing more, only extending his hand. 

"Come. Dance with me. For old times’ sake"

The music was heavy, vibrating through the floor, pulling them into its rhythm. Sonarika let herself move, the beat carrying her body into Vikram’s. His hand slid to her waist, hers brushed his shoulder. The crowd disappeared, their bodies finding that same easy rhythm they once had. The closer they moved, the more intimate the dance became. His breath mingled with hers, his hand pressed firmer against her back.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to feel it — the thrill, the passion, the intoxicating pull. But then, in the press of their closeness, she felt Vikram’s arousal against her, and suddenly reality shattered the trance. She froze, pulling back slightly.

Vikram, confused, leaned in. 

"What’s wrong? Why did you stop?"

Sonarika’s eyes softened, though her voice was firm. 

"Because I can’t. Not right now. I told myself I wouldn’t make the same mistakes again"

"Soni?" he said carefully. 

"Was it a mistake? Us?"

Her throat tightened. She searched his eyes and spoke quietly. 

"No… not a mistake. But right now, yes — it would be. I’m still working on myself. I’m not ready to lose myself again"

He let the words sink in, his jaw tightening, but then he nodded slowly. She continued. 

"If you truly love me, Vicky… you’ll understand. We need to take it slow. No shortcuts, no rushing back into what we were"

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Then Vikram smiled faintly, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. 

"If taking it slow means I get more times like this with you… I’ll take it. I’d rather have you here, laughing and smiling, than just in my bed"

The sincerity in his tone warmed her heart. She leaned against his chest briefly, allowing the comfort of his embrace before gently pulling away. 

"Thank you"

Later, as Vikram called her a cab and kissed her forehead goodnight, Sonarika felt a quiet relief. The old thrill lingered, yes, but so did something new — control, clarity. She wasn’t the woman recklessly running into passion anymore. She was walking away on her own terms.

When she reached home, she looked at herself in the mirror, touching her lips softly. For the first time in a long while, she whispered. 

"Slow is okay. Slow is safe"


LATER THAT NIGHT


Her drive home was silent, the city’s neon glow washing against the window glass as Sonarika's hand had a firm grip on the steering. Her heart was steady, not racing like before when she used to sneak back from Vikram’s arms, but it was heavy. She had stayed true to her promise to herself — no reckless passion, no surrender — yet the taste of temptation lingered on her lips. When she reached the apartment, the clock had already crossed midnight. She had already informed Anjali and Hemant that she will be late. The flat was dim, the faint glow of the lamp in the living room casting long shadows across the space. Hemant was there, sitting on the sofa, files spread out across the coffee table, though it was clear from the way his eyes were fixed on nothing that he hadn’t been working.

He looked up as she unlocked the door. His gaze lingered on her a moment too long before dropping back to the untouched glass of water in his hand. 

"You’re late" he said evenly, no accusation in his tone, but no warmth either.

Sonarika set her handbag down carefully, almost too carefully, as though afraid it would echo through the silence. 

"I… went out. Just needed some air after therapy. Cleared my head a little"

Hemant nodded, his expression unreadable. 

"Air at midnight. Interesting choice"

Her throat tightened at the faint bite in his words. She wanted to explain, to justify, but the words tangled on her tongue. Instead, she said softly. 

"I didn’t want to disturb you or Karan"

"Karan sleeps sound" Hemant replied, leaning back. His eyes finally met hers, sharp yet tired. 

"Me, not so much"

The silence between them was suffocating, filled with things unsaid. Sonarika shifted uncomfortably, the memory of Vikram’s warm embrace still clinging faintly to her skin, a secret she couldn’t confess. She broke the silence first. 

"Hemant… you don’t have to wait for me like this"

His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. 

"Old habit, I guess. Waiting for you" His voice dipped lower, rougher. 

"Even when I don’t know who you’re coming back from"

Her breath hitched. She wanted to protest, to insist she wasn’t betraying him tonight — not in the way he imagined. But guilt clawed at her chest. 

"Hemant, I…" She trailed off, unsure if she could even finish the sentence.

He stood, gathering his files with deliberate slowness. 

"Forget it. You don’t owe me answers anymore"

The words cut deeper than if he had shouted. She lowered her gaze, whispering. 

"I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have"

For the first time, there was a flicker of raw emotion in his eyes — hurt, sharp and unmasked. 

"That’s the thing, Sonarika. You don’t even have to try. It just happens"

Her chest constricted painfully. She wanted to reach for him, to promise him that she wasn’t lost completely. But his back was already turned, his steps retreating toward the bedroom.

When she finally slipped into the bed beside him later, the silence was heavier than the night itself. Hemant lay facing the other side, his breathing steady but not peaceful. She stared at the ceiling, fighting back tears, the weight of both restraint and temptation pressing on her.

In the darkness, her thoughts screamed what her lips couldn’t: 

'I’m trying to find myself… but I’m losing you in the process'


THE NEXT MORNING


The next morning, the apartment was unusually quiet. Sonarika busied herself in the kitchen, brewing tea, forcing a calmness into her movements. When Hemant emerged, dressed neatly for the factory, his eyes brushed over her but never lingered.

"Your tea" she offered softly, sliding the cup across the table.

He nodded, taking it without looking at her. 

"Thanks" His tone was polite, almost detached, as though she were a guest rather than his wife.

Karan shuffled in soon after, still groggy from sleep. Hemant’s entire demeanor softened as he knelt, ruffling his son’s hair. 

"Morning champ. Ready for Institute?"

Karan grinned and nodded, pulling out his project book. 

"Papa, Anju Didi said I did great yesterday with the volcano!”

"That’s because you worked hard" Hemant said warmly, before adding. 

"And because your mother was there too" 

He glanced at Sonarika then, the first real acknowledgment of her presence, but his eyes carried an edge. The comment stung. She wanted to smile and nod, but instead she murmured. 

"Yes, he did well" her voice subdued.

Over the next few days, the pattern repeated. Hemant was kind, attentive even — but only with Karan. With Sonarika, his words carried a strange duality: polite on the surface, cutting just beneath.

One evening, as she entered the living room where Hemant was going through some factory papers, she said gently. 

"You’ve been working too hard. Maybe you should take a break"

He didn’t look up. 

"Breaks are for people who have peace of mind" 

A pause. 

"Not everyone can find theirs in pubs at midnight"

Her breath caught. 

"Hemant—"

But he turned another page, his expression unreadable. 

"Don’t worry, I’m not asking where you were. Like I said, I don’t need answers"

She stood frozen, a lump in her throat. It wasn’t an accusation, not directly — but the weight of his suspicion pressed heavily. Two days later, when she returned late from work, she found Hemant in the kitchen, helping Anjali prepare dinner. The sight startled her. A sight she always loved about him.

"Back late again?" Anjali asked casually.

"Work" Sonarika replied quickly, avoiding Hemant’s gaze.

Hemant finally looked at her, his tone calm but sharp. 

"Work is important. Just… make sure it’s the kind that pays your soul too"

Anjali frowned, sensing tension but saying nothing.

Sonarika excused herself to the bedroom, her chest tight. She could feel his words sink deeper than she wanted to admit. That night in bed, she lay beside him, unable to sleep. The silence between them was unbearable. Finally, she whispered. 

"I’m trying, Hemant. Really trying"

For a long moment, there was no response. Then, without turning to face her, he murmured, 

"I know. But sometimes trying isn’t enough"

His words were quiet, almost gentle — yet they broke her more than anger ever could. She turned her face into the pillow, tears sliding silently as Hemant lay awake, his eyes open in the dark, his chest heavy with the storm he no longer had the strength to unleash.


The night dragged heavy in their bedroom, the faint hum of the ceiling fan the only sound cutting through the silence. Sonarika lay curled to one side, her eyes tracing meaningless patterns on the curtain shadows. Hemant sat upright against the headboard, his thoughts far away, a storm held behind his weary gaze.

Finally, his voice came low, trembling not with anger but with exhaustion. 

"Sonarika… tell me something. Do you ever stop and think how much this hurts? Not just me, but you too?"

Her throat tightened, her lips trembling. 

"Every day, Hemant. Every second. I think of it and I hate myself for it"

He shut his eyes, leaning his head back. 

"I know I’ve been cruel these past few days. My words… those taunts, those half-truths. I thought if I cut you enough, you’d bleed honesty. But all I’ve been doing is cutting myself too" 

His voice cracked on the last word.

Her tears flowed freely now, soaking the pillow. 

"You have every right… every right to hate me. And yet you’re sitting here talking like this—"

"Because" Hemant interrupted gently, turning to face her. 

"if all I give you is hate, then what good is that for you? For Karan? For me?" 

He sighed deeply, shoulders slumping. 

"I’ve lost enough of myself already. I don’t want you to lose what little of yourself you’re still holding on to"

The calmness in his tone startled her. It wasn’t resignation. It wasn’t fury. It was something deeper, something raw. A man who had every reason to destroy her, yet instead chose to steady her.

"Don’t lose hope, Sonarika" he whispered. 

"I don’t care how long it takes, or how many times you stumble. Just… don’t stop searching for yourself. Whatever you find, whenever you find it… make sure it brings you peace. Make sure you can finally look in the mirror and not flinch"

The overwhelming gentleness in his words shattered her. She buried her face in her palms, sobbing. 

"I don’t deserve you, Hemant. Not after what I’ve done. Not after the mess I’ve made of us"

He reached out hesitantly, then placed his hand on hers, pulling them away from her face. His thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away a tear. His eyes, tired yet steady, held hers.

"I don’t know if I’ll ever get back the woman I fell in love with" he admitted softly. 

"But I still miss her. I still miss… my Sona"

The name — his name for her, born in their days of pure love — pierced straight into her heart. It wasn’t just nostalgia. It was love, scarred but still alive. Sonarika’s sobs slowed, replaced by a quiet trembling. Something shifted inside her — not redemption, not clarity, but a spark. A fragile, necessary spark she thought she had lost forever.

"Hemant…" she whispered, her voice quivering. 

"Thank you. I don’t know how… but I’ll try. I’ll try to find myself. For Karan. For me. For… us, even if we’re broken"

He leaned back again, letting go of her hand with a softness that carried no weight of possession. 

"That’s all I want, Sonarika. Just… try"

And in that fragile silence, between two broken souls who could no longer promise forever, Sonarika felt something she hadn’t felt in months — hope.


THE NEXT DAY


The following afternoon, Sonarika sat across from Dr. Neha in the serene, sunlit therapy room. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, and the soft ticking of the wall clock filled the silence as Sonarika fidgeted with the hem of her kurti. Her eyes were still swollen from the night before, but her expression held a strange calm that Neha immediately noticed.

"You seem… quieter today" Neha said gently, tilting her head. 

"Not heavy quiet, but… centered. What changed?"

Sonarika let out a shaky laugh, brushing at her cheeks. 

"Hemant. He changed. Or maybe just… he reminded me of the Hemant I had once" 

She paused, then whispered. 

"The Hemant who used to call me Sona"

Neha leaned forward slightly, sensing the shift. 

"Tell me about last night"

For the next ten minutes, Sonarika poured out every detail — the lack of rage in Hemant’s eyes, the way his words carried pain yet compassion, his plea for her to not lose hope, and finally, that one tender confession: I still miss my Sona. Her voice wavered with every sentence, but there was warmth in her tone that hadn’t been there before.

Neha smiled softly. 

"It sounds like he gave you something you weren’t expecting — not judgment, not punishment, but encouragement"

Sonarika nodded, her lips trembling. 

"I thought he’d never stop cutting me with words. I thought all he had left for me was anger. But last night… he reminded me that despite everything, I can still try. That maybe I don’t need to define myself only by my mistakes. That I still have a self worth finding"

For the first time in weeks, her tears were not born of shame, but release. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and exhaled deeply, almost like she was setting down a burden.

"I know I don’t deserve him" she admitted, voice breaking. 

"But maybe I can still deserve myself. Maybe I can still build a version of me that doesn’t flinch at my own reflection"

Neha gave her a long, approving nod. 

"That, Sonarika, is the beginning of healing. Not fixing the past. Not forcing the future. But finally choosing yourself"


And in that quiet moment, Sonarika felt the spark Hemant had lit inside her begin to steady into something stronger. For the first time since the affair, she walked out of therapy with her head a little higher, her steps a little surer, as though the road ahead — though long and uncertain — was no longer impossible.


Later that evening, Sonarika sat by the wide glass window of her apartment, the Mumbai skyline glittering against the night. She had just returned from therapy, her mind still humming with Neha’s words and Hemant’s unexpected tenderness from the night before. Her phone buzzed, Vikram’s name lighting up the screen. She hesitated a moment before answering.

"Hello, Vicky" she said softly. 

"There’s that soft tone again. Long day at Tanishq? Or did little Karan drain you out with his science project?"

His voice carried its usual warmth, smooth yet teasing. She smiled faintly, remembering Karan’s excited chatter. 

"Both, actually. But it wasn’t a bad day. I… feel lighter today"

There was a pause on his end, then a low chuckle. 

"Lighter? That’s new. You sound different, Soni. Usually when I call, there’s a shadow in your voice. Today… I don’t hear it"

Sonarika leaned her head back against the chair, gazing at the stars. 

"Maybe because I’m finally starting to let go of some of the heaviness. Therapy’s helping. And… Hemant said something yesterday that struck me"

Vikram’s tone tightened, curiosity laced with unease. 

"Hemant? What could he possibly say now that makes you sound like this?"

She hesitated, then spoke slowly. 

"He told me not to lose hope. That whenever I finally find myself, I should be content with who I am. And then… he called me Sona. For the first time in years. It felt like he wasn’t angry, just… pained. But still wishing me well"

Silence stretched across the line before Vikram finally spoke. 

"So he’s playing the saint now? Even after everything you told me, he still wants to make you feel better?"

"It wasn’t about him being a saint" she replied quietly. 

"It was about him letting me breathe again. And I needed that. More than I knew"

Vikram, who was always so quick with banter or charm, didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke, his tone had shifted. 

"You’re changing, Soni. You sound… less like the woman who needed me to hold her together. More like someone who doesn’t need anyone at all"

She smiled faintly, though sadness lingered in her eyes. 

"Maybe that’s the point. I have to stand on my own. If I can’t love myself in truth, how can I love anyone else properly? Even you"

That stung him, though he masked it with a half-hearted chuckle. 

"I don’t like this new distance. Makes me feel like I’m losing my place in your heart"

Her voice softened, touched by his vulnerability. 

"You’re not losing, Vicky. But the truth is, I’m still figuring out where my heart belongs. For once, I need to stop running from myself"

When the call ended, Sonarika stared at her reflection in the darkened glass. Hemant’s quiet strength and Vikram’s restless passion both lived inside her memories, but for the first time, she wasn’t drowning between them. She was walking toward herself.


FEW DAYS LATER AT YOD INDUSTRIES


The following week, YOD Industries buzzed with a new kind of energy. The massive government contract had transformed the factory into a hive of activity. Trucks rolled in with raw materials, engineers worked long shifts, and army inspectors moved briskly through the assembly lines to ensure everything matched the Army’s standards. The All-Terrain Vehicle that once stood as a prototype now stood in rows, ready to be refined for mass production. Hemant walked through the production bay, his gaze sharp, noting every detail. He felt a strange sense of pride — not just in the machines, but in the people making them.


Later that afternoon, Hemant entered the Presentation Room. On the projection screen stood a new design, sleek yet rugged — a blueprint for an Indigenous BTR (Armored Personnel Carrier). A young engineer, freshly recruited from IIT, nervously adjusted his glasses as he explained the vehicle’s design, its armoring concept, amphibious capabilities, and adaptability for Indian terrains. Beside Hemant, two Army officers leaned forward with genuine intrigue.

"This design" One of the officers remarked. 

"if it performs in real tests, could reduce our dependency on imports drastically. It has promise"

Hemant studied the engineer’s work silently before finally nodding. 

"Begin building a prototype. No delays. If we can prove this in trials, it will open a new chapter for YOD" 

His words carried authority, but also a spark of vision — the kind that had once made him chase dreams with reckless abandon, now tempered with experience. When the presentation ended and the officers left, Hemant returned to his office. The silence of the room was almost too loud after the day’s rush. He sat at his desk, the sun casting a faint glow across the polished wood. His eyes drifted to his hands. On one finger gleamed the Archangel ring, a symbol of his past life, a reminder of the shadow he once carried. On another, the Garuda ring, radiant with the promise of strength, resilience, and freedom.


He turned them slowly, feeling their weight. Each ring carried a piece of him — one the strategist, the darker self molded by necessity; the other the visionary, the builder seeking to lift others. Yet neither, he realized, fully defined him anymore. His mind wandered back to Sonarika. Her face, her tears, her whispered fears still echoed inside him. For the first time in weeks, he felt no anger. Instead, there was calm acceptance. Perhaps giving her the distance she needed was the truest form of love left between them. She needed to heal — and he, too, needed to build something beyond brokenness.


The two rings glimmered faintly in the dimming sunlight. Hemant’s chest tightened, not in sorrow, but in quiet resolve. For the first time in years, he wasn’t running from his past or chained to his pain. He was shaping himself — like the machines his factory built, forged in fire, tested in storms, but built to endure.


SOMETIME LATER


The DFO room was alive with quiet intensity. Banks of monitors glowed against the darkness, the feeds from the Kohinoor Cultural Center stuttering in shades of grey. On one wall, server fans thrummed, a mechanical heartbeat that never slowed. Kamya typed with sharp precision, code flowing like rivers on her screen. Vaibhav, restless and eager, hovered with his notepad, drawing crude maps of camera angles and hallways.

"We could pull the ATM feeds inside the Center" 

Vaibhav suggested, his voice charged with the adrenaline of discovery. 

"Piggyback the CCTV loop—they’ll never notice"

From the corner of the room, Hemant moved. He didn’t pace, didn’t fidget—he stepped into the light like a verdict being delivered. His words were blunt, cutting the suggestion off at its knees.

"There are no ATMs inside. Roughly four banks operate ATMs in that center but all of them are located at the outer layer of the center. In a way , it is an added level of 24 hour security for that place"

The room stilled. Vaibhav’s enthusiasm collapsed into silence. He looked at Kamya, who only raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. She knew Hemant’s kind of knowledge didn’t come from research. It came from experience. From walking the ground, studying blueprints, knowing how security men thought because he had once broken their systems a hundred times before.

"Then I’ll go in during the day" Kamya said boldly, spinning in her chair. 

"I can find a device, a hub, anything. One hardware access point is all we need"

Hemant’s gaze fixed on her, steady, measured. In a past life, Michael King always loved that bold approach. But here, he was Hemant Kumar—industrialist, strategist, the same man, molded differently. 

"Daytime infiltration is messy" he said finally. 

"Too many eyes, too many hands that remember faces. But…" he let the silence drag. 

"If there’s no other way. If we must, we test the risk"


He leaned closer to the screens, eyes scanning, absorbing. Where others saw static angles and pedestrians milling around, Hemant’s gaze picked out patterns—the sweep of guard patrols, the rhythm of cleaning staff, the irregularities in lighting. His eyes stopped at the far edge of the frame. A toy shop. Hamley’s. Innocuous, almost ridiculous. But not to him. He smiled, faintly. Michael King had once smuggled emeralds inside children’s dolls bound for Singapore. A supply chain was a lifeline, and lifelines could always be tapped.

"Raquel" His voice carried like the pull of gravity.

"Find out everything about that Hamley’s. Supply runs, vendors, manifests, every box that enters that door. If stuffed bears can make it inside, so can we"

Raquel nodded, wordless, already moving.

Hemant turned back to Kamya and Vaibhav, his tone controlled, firm. 

"Your job hasn’t changed. Keep mining those feeds. Reflections in glass, shadows in corners, glimpses through open doors. Enhance, layer, rebuild. Squeeze every pixel until it shows us what it’s hiding"

They both nodded without a word. It wasn’t obedience born of fear—it was the weight of working under a man who had survived operations more dangerous than this before most of them had learned to drive. In the past he had once run contraband from Rotterdam to Hong Kong; Hemant Kumar was now building an empire dressed as a company. Together, they were something more—cold certainty sharpened by years of fire.

Hemant checked his watch. 

"Raquel and I are going to Darukhana. Time to see the progess of our wheels"

The servers hummed louder in their absence, as if filling the silence he left behind.


SOMETIME LATER IN DARUKHANA PORT


Darukhana was a place where salt and steel coexisted uneasily, the sea corroding everything it touched. In the heart of its rusting skeletons, Manav Chauhan’s garage burned alive with sparks and noise. Trucks sat in skeletal frames, their bodies half-built, engines gutted. Men in welding masks crouched like priests at altars, their torches raining molten fire. Hemant entered like a man walking into a sanctuary of machines, his stride measured, Raquel flanking him like a shadow. He didn’t gawk or hesitate—his eyes swept over every unfinished frame, every tool in motion, already calculating the potential and the flaws. Where others saw metal, Hemant saw vehicles as pieces in a larger machine: the job itself.

Manav wiped grease from his arms as he stepped forward, chest heaving with the pride of creation. 

"You wanted monsters, Chief. I’m building them. Reinforced suspension, torque-heavy engines. But I need details. Payload weight, specifically. Otherwise I’m guessing"

Hemant’s gaze lingered on the lead truck, its skeletal chassis like a predator stripped to bone. His voice came level, calm, without hesitation. 

"Close to a ton. And it needs to run without compromise under it"

Manav blinked, almost laughing. 

"A ton? That much weight will choke performance. If there’s a chase, you won’t make it past the first turn"

Hemant stepped into his space, lowering his voice until it cut through the clangor of metal like a blade against silk. 

"There won’t be a chase. Not if everything goes as I intend"

The certainty in his words was unnerving. This wasn’t arrogance—it was lived experience. In the past , he had once moved a stolen treasury across London in armored vans under the noses of security officer convoys. He had hijacked trains in Guangdong, slipped gold through customs at Chittagong, vanished fleets of cars into Dubai warehouses without a trace. He didn’t hope for clean getaways—he built them. And Hemant Kumar, the industrialist, gave him the tools to do it smarter, sharper, cleaner. Manav swallowed hard, then grinned. 

"Then I’ll give you trucks that won’t break, even under that weight. They’ll roar when you need them to" 

His men, overhearing, worked faster—driven by the gravity Hemant carried. This wasn’t just another job. It was something bigger. Something legendary. Hemant gave a single nod, no wasted words, then turned for the exit. Raquel followed. The clang of welders and the roar of engines grew louder in their absence, as though the garage itself had been charged with new fire. Outside, the port air was thick with salt and smoke. Hemant inhaled deep, then exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on Mumbai’s distant skyline. His marriage was ashes. His empire-to-come was fire. And Hemant Kumar knew better than anyone: fire didn’t falter. Fire consumed.



FEW DAYS LATER



Hemant adjusted his suit jacket as he walked into the grand ballroom of the Royal hotel. The stage lights glowed with golden warmth, reflecting off the polished marble floor. He had attended many corporate functions, but tonight felt different. He wasn’t here as YOD Industries’ rising magnate. He was here for Tamanna. For weeks, his life had been clouded by the grief of Sonarika’s betrayal and the slow descent to divorce. But this evening, he had promised himself he would put that aside and share in someone else’s happiness.

As the ceremony proceeded, he spotted Tamanna stepping onto the stage in her dazzling gown, her confidence radiating across the hall. The audience erupted in applause, and Hemant found himself clapping harder than anyone else, a faint smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in months, he felt a flicker of lightness.

Tamanna took the microphone, her voice steady and graceful. 

"This award belongs to my team at Dhrishti Studios" she said warmly. 

"Without their passion, none of this would be possible. It also belongs to my daughter, Shraddha, who inspires me every single day. And… to friends who remind me that even when the world turns heavy, we can still rise" 

Her eyes briefly found Hemant’s in the audience, and his chest tightened. He knew she was speaking of him. When the applause settled, she rejoined the audience. Hemant rose from his seat and met her halfway, offering his hand. 

"Congratulations, Tammu" he said, his voice gentler than usual. 

"You owned that stage"

Tamanna laughed softly, still flushed with the glow of her win. 

"Thank you, Hemant. For being here. I know how much you’ve had on your plate. It means a lot"

He shook his head. 

"No, it means a lot to me. To see you finally get the recognition you deserve. You’ve built this from scratch. I know how much it cost you"

Her smile softened. 

"And you would know… since you’ve walked the same path. The success story of YOD Industries is catching steam!"

Hemant chuckled. 

"Yeah just like you I too have dedicated workers backing me. But look at us now. Two single parents pretending we have everything under control"

Tamanna tilted her head. 

"Pretending? Or surviving?"

"Both" Hemant admitted, his voice dropping. 

"Some days, it feels like grief is the only constant. Sonarika… and what she did… it still cuts" 

He inhaled, steadying himself. 

"But lately, I feel like I have opened up , seeing my life take a different path"

Her gaze lingered on him. 

"We've bolth carried storms inside each other, Hemant. But I’m glad you let me in, finding me as a source of strength in your vulnerable moments , even a little. For Shraddha, too, it’s been comforting. She likes you, you know"

That drew a real smile from him. 

"I like her too. She’s bright… just like her mother" He hesitated, then teased 

"Tell me, has—Sandeep—ever bothered you again?"

Tamanna rolled her eyes, amused. 

"Don’t remind me of him. No, he hasn’t. And even if he tried, I wouldn’t waste my time. I think it’s finally clear where my interest lies"

For a moment, their eyes met in a silence that carried more weight than words. Hemant broke it with a deliberate shift in tone. 

"Speaking of interests, YOD Industries just secured the military contracts. First time in our history. To celebrate, I’m hosting a party next week for the city’s elites. I would feel great if you attend"

She arched a brow. 

"You know I can’t stay late. Shraddha’s routine…"

"I know" Hemant interrupted gently. 

"But even if you stay for just a while, I’ll make sure it’s worth it. Memorable"

Her lips curved in a smile, tender yet teasing. 

"Memorable? Hemant, it’s already memorable—because this time, I’ll be celebrating your success"

For the first time in a long while, Hemant felt warmth spread in his chest. Tonight, surrounded by applause and lights, his grief loosened its grip, and in its place, something gentler began to take root. The after-party was held in one of the hotel’s rooftop lounges, overlooking the glittering Mumbai skyline. The air carried a mix of ocean breeze and champagne fizz, and the elite crowd buzzed with conversations about contracts, brands, and politics. Hemant arrived at the lounge a little later than Tamanna, pausing at the bar before searching for her in the clusters of guests. He wasn’t here to network, though plenty tried to shake his hand. Tonight, his focus was elsewhere.

He spotted her near the terrace railing, holding a glass of sparkling water, her gown shimmering under the fairy lights. She seemed a little apart from the crowd, watching the city rather than the people. Hemant approached, his voice low and teasing. 

"You look like someone who just conquered the advertising world and then escaped to the balcony to catch her breath"

Tamanna turned, smiling knowingly. 

"Maybe because I did. And maybe because crowds still overwhelm me sometimes"

"Same" Hemant admitted, standing beside her, resting his hands on the railing. 

"Though I don’t usually have such a dazzling partner in crime to share the view with"

She laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. 

"Careful, Mr. YOD Industries. Flattery like that might be mistaken for something else"

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. 

"And what if it is?" 

For a moment, the noise of the party blurred into the background, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. Tamanna broke the silence first, sipping her drink. 

"You know, Shraddha asked me the other day why I don’t smile as much as I used to. Tonight, I think I’ll tell her I remembered how"

Hemant’s chest tightened at that, the words striking deeper than she intended. 

"I hope… I had some small part in that" he said softly.

"You did" she replied without hesitation. 

"Hemant, I know you’ve been carrying more than anyone should. I can’t erase what Sonarika did, or the pain of it. But I can be here, when the weight feels too much"

He looked at her then, really looked—this woman who had once been just a college friend with unspoken feelings, now standing beside him in his hardest season, offering something he didn’t think he deserved: comfort. 

"You already are" He whispered.

Before the moment grew too heavy, he cleared his throat, shifting the subject. 

"So… will you come to my party next week? The first one YOD has ever hosted?"

Tamanna’s smile returned, gentle yet mischievous. 

"I’ll come. But don’t expect me to dance until midnight. My daughter still needs her tiffin packed the next morning"

Hemant chuckled, a sound that felt almost foreign to his own ears. 

"Then I’ll make sure you dance at least once before you leave. That way, I’ll win my bet with myself"

She shook her head, amused. 

"You and your bets. Fine, one dance. But only because tonight… it already feels like the beginning of something worth remembering"

As the party continued around them, Hemant realized that the grief tethering him to the past had loosened a little more. Standing beside Tamanna, the night didn’t feel like another reminder of loss—it felt like a doorway to a future he hadn’t dared imagine.


The music in the lounge shifted, the live band sliding into a softer, melodic tune. The crowd on the dance floor thinned as conversations drew people back to their tables, leaving only a few couples swaying under the dim lights. Hemant glanced toward the space, then back at Tamanna, who was still leaning on the railing, the glow of the city framing her silhouette. He extended his hand, a playful tilt in his voice. 

"You did promise me one dance, Tammu. And the song’s too perfect to waste"

Tamanna hesitated, her smile lingering as her eyes searched his. For a second, the years of distance, the grief, and the scars between them seemed to hang in the air. Then, slowly, she placed her hand in his. 

"Alright, Mr.Hunk. Just one"

They moved onto the floor, the world narrowing to the soft rhythm that carried them. Hemant’s hand rested gently against her back, guiding her in measured steps, while her fingers lightly curled over his shoulder. It wasn’t practiced or polished, but it was theirs. For the first time in years, Hemant felt a strange calm, as if the weight on his chest had lifted just enough for him to breathe freely.

Tamanna studied him with a quiet intensity, her eyes glimmering. 

"You know… you’ve changed tonight" she murmured. 

"I see the same Hemant I knew back in college. Though I feel sad that it took a heartbreak to find yourself”

Hemant tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. 

"Is that a good thing? Or should I be worried that the old Hemant is back?"

Her answer was immediate, soft but sure. 

"It’s definitely a good thing. I just… I wish this dance had happened back then" 

Her gaze drifted downward for a moment, then returned to meet his. 

"Maybe things would have been different"

Hemant’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, his voice dropping low. 

"Back then, I was already entangled… with someone else. But now…" 

He drew in a breath, steady yet deliberate. 

"Now I’m no longer involved with anyone. Not Sonarika, not anyone. Just… here, with you"

Tamanna’s steps faltered for a moment at the weight of his words, but she recovered, her lips parting slightly as her heart raced. 

"Hemant…" 

She whispered, the single word carrying all the emotions she had tucked away for years. Their eyes locked, and the dance slowed until they were barely moving, their closeness speaking louder than the music. In that suspended moment, both understood what was happening—two broken souls, drawn to each other not out of weakness, but out of the recognition of strength in shared pain. Tamanna exhaled, her voice trembling yet steady. 

"This… whatever this is, it feels different. Deeper. Not just friendship, not just comfort. Are we sure we're not making a mistake?"

Hemant leaned in, his forehead nearly touching hers, his tone earnest. 

"Let me be honest Tammu , you and me this close. Maybe it is a mistake. Because my faith in love is seriously cracked. I want to see you that way but I can't.......but this.....this is something special......"

The music swelled around them, but neither noticed. For them, the dance was more than movement—it was a confession, a promise, and the fragile beginning of something intimate. Two people scarred by loss, finding in each other not just solace, but a bond for each other.

                                                                                                                                                          (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                       (CHAPTER CONTD)

THE NEXT DAY

 

The clatter of trays and hum of chatter filled the office café near TANISHQ, a familiar environment where secrets could wear masks of laughter. Meghna’s heels clicked against the polished floor as her eyes sought her prey. And there she was—Sonarika. Graceful, professional, almost radiant in her navy blazer. Meghna had expected a wreck, a woman hollowed by guilt and divorce papers. Instead, she found strength, and that unnerved her.

"Sonarika!" 

Meghna called out, layering her voice with sweetness that tasted of poison to her own tongue. Sonarika turned, her expression softening into a genuine smile. 

"Meghna? You’re here! God, it feels like years"

They embraced like sisters, as though their shared history wasn’t tangled in betrayal and blood. Meghna breathed in the scent of Sonarika’s perfume and thought of Samhita’s last cry on that trek in the mountains—snuffed out by her own hands.

"You still love this corner table" Meghna said as they sat down, putting on her practiced grin. 

"You and your routines never change"

Sonarika chuckled. 

"Well, some things need to stay constant in life, don’t they? Unlike the madness of corporate schedules"

Meghna sipped her coffee, lying as effortlessly as she breathed. 

"Mirror News Network has me running ragged. Just finished a big Kolkata story on art and investments. Barely slept"

"That sounds like you" Sonarika replied warmly. 

"Always chasing something big"

"And you?" Meghna tilted her head, studying her target. 

"Tanishq must be keeping you busy. You look… grounded"

Sonarika’s gaze softened. 

"It helps. Work keeps me sane"

Meghna let the silence stretch before striking. 

"And Hemant? How’s he doing?"

The pause that followed was heavy. Sonarika exhaled slowly. 

"He filed for divorce"

Meghna widened her eyes in feigned shock, though victory sparked in her veins. 

"Sonarika, I’m… so sorry. But maybe it’s a blessing. Now you can finally be free. With Vikram by your side, everything will change"

But Sonarika’s eyes hardened. 

"No, Meghna. That’s not why it happened. I told him the truth. I confessed about Vikram. I couldn’t keep lying to him. Not to Hemant"

Meghna leaned forward, voice laced with sharpness. 

"That was a mistake. A colossal mistake. You don’t throw your marriage away by handing a man your sins on a platter"

Sonarika’s chin lifted. 

"It wasn’t about throwing it away. It was about honesty. Whatever else Hemant may be, he deserved the truth. And I—" 

Her voice broke briefly.

"I deserved to stop living in shadows"

Meghna’s fingers tapped the table in agitation. 

"What about Karan? How will custody work out in this chaos?"

"We agreed on joint custody" Sonarika replied firmly. 

"It’s what’s best for him"

"No" Meghna snapped, the venom slipping through her velvet mask. 

"Don’t let Hemant take him. He failed you as a husband; he will fail as a father. Courts will side with you, Sonarika. You could have Karan. You could even claim part of YOD Industries. You’d be untouchable"

The fury in Sonarika’s eyes was sudden, startling. 

"Stop it, Meghna. I am not that woman. This isn’t about punishing Hemant. It isn’t about money. It isn’t even about love or feelings. What happened is my fault, and I will carry that weight. Neither Hemant nor Karan deserves to pay for it"

Meghna froze, the certainty in Sonarika’s voice slicing through her like steel. 

"You’d rather punish yourself? Why?"

"Because I need to heal" Sonarika said simply. 

"I’ve started therapy. I’m trying to find balance, to find some sanity. I won’t keep spiraling"

The words echoed in Meghna’s skull, turning her blood cold. Therapy. Healing. Progress. This wasn’t collapse. This wasn’t ruin. This was Sonarika crawling out of the pit Meghna had spent years digging for her.

"You don’t need therapy" Meghna hissed, mask cracking. 

"You need happiness. You need Vikram. He is your freedom, Sonarika"

But Sonarika shook her head, steady as stone. 

"No, Meghna. Before anyone else, I need myself. Only then will I know who I truly love. Only then will I stop hurting people"

Meghna’s nails dug into her palm under the table, leaving crescent wounds. 

"Who planted this poison in your head?" she demanded.

Sonarika blinked, almost puzzled. 

"Poison? Meghna, it’s the first time I’ve felt clarity in years. It was Ragini. She guided me. If it weren’t for her, I would have lost myself long ago"

Ragini. The name fell like a dagger. Meghna’s vision blurred at the edges, fury flooding her veins. This Ragini had undone everything. Years of manipulation, carefully orchestrated ruin, all slipping because of some meddling savior.

"Ragini" Meghna repeated, her tone deceptively calm though her mind screamed. 

"How… noble of her"

Sonarika smiled faintly. 

"Yes. Noble. She gave me hope when I had none. Everyone needs someone like her in their lives"

The words sealed Meghna’s rage. As Sonarika rose, thanking her for lunch and promising to meet again, Meghna’s smile lingered like a mask carved in porcelain. But inside, the storm shifted. Sonarika would not shatter. Not yet. But Ragini—Ragini had made herself the true enemy. As Sonarika’s heels clicked away, Meghna whispered under her breath, unheard by anyone but herself: 

'Then Ragini will pay'

The café door shut behind Sonarika, leaving Meghna alone with the bitter taste of defeat clinging to her tongue. The clatter of cups, the hum of office laughter—it all blurred, drowned beneath the roaring tide of fury rising in her chest. Therapy. Healing. Ragini. That name lingered like acid, corroding every ounce of satisfaction she thought she’d savor today.

For years, Meghna had been the unseen puppeteer—pulling strings with precision, weaving lies into Sonarika’s veins until she danced to her rhythm. And yet, one woman, one outsider, had dared to sever those strings.

Ragini. The savior. The redeemer. The parasite.

Meghna clenched her fists, nails biting skin until warm dots of blood surfaced. She welcomed the sting; it reminded her she was alive, that vengeance had not abandoned her. 

'You think you can undo me, Ragini?' 

She whispered under her breath, voice low and trembling with rage. 

'You think you can rewrite Sonarika’s story?'

She leaned back in her chair, mind racing. Ragini’s life wasn’t a mystery. Meghna had followed her rise in the business pages—once a meek wife in an abusive marriage, now the iron-willed founder of a textile empire stretching across the country. A phoenix, they called her. And now, Ragini played savior to another fallen woman. That was what sickened Meghna most. Of course Ragini would see Sonarika as a reflection of her younger self. Of course she would meddle, blind to the truth that Sonarika wasn’t a victim—she was a sinner, a liar, a cheater whose descent had been orchestrated with meticulous cruelty. Meghna’s cruelty.

'She’s not yours to save' 

Meghna hissed, her reflection in the café window showing her teeth clenched, her eyes burning. 

'She’s mine to break'

But Sonarika’s defiance earlier replayed in her mind.

No, Meghna. I need myself first. I need the truth. 

Words that tasted of Ragini’s poison. The very thought made Meghna’s stomach knot with rage. It wasn’t enough to silence Ragini. No—Meghna needed to dismantle her. To rip apart everything she had built, piece by piece, until the phoenix burned again in her own ashes. Her mind shifted into strategy, the way it always had when she plotted Sonarika’s ruin. She thought of Ragini’s company—a textile brand rooted in Goa, spreading into metro markets. Vulnerable to scandal, to whispers of corruption, to whispers of exploitation. In business, reputation was everything.

And Ragini? She had rebuilt her identity on resilience, on being the symbol of survival. If Meghna could stain that image, drag it through the mud, Ragini wouldn’t just lose her empire. She’d lose her story.

'Every savior has a weakness' Meghna murmured, swirling the cold coffee in her cup. 

'Every fortress has a crack. And I’ll find yours, Ragini'

The irony wasn’t lost on her—Ragini, who had clawed her way out of abuse, now painting Sonarika as the same. The hypocrisy made Meghna want to laugh. 

'Do you even know what she is?' she whispered to the empty chair Sonarika had vacated. 

'Do you know how many nights she’s spent tangled with Vikram because I guided her there? You foolish woman—you’re polishing poison and calling it gold'

The more she spoke to herself, the clearer the plan became. She wouldn’t confront Ragini directly. No, confrontation was for the weak. Meghna excelled in shadows. She would study Ragini, learn her habits, her contacts, her vulnerabilities. The fall would be engineered so perfectly that when it came, Ragini wouldn’t even know whose hand had pushed her.

And Sonarika? Meghna smirked bitterly. Sonarika would watch her beloved guide crumble. The woman she credited with her sanity would be exposed as a fraud, a failure, a disgrace. The therapy, the healing—it would all collapse with Ragini’s name. Meghna’s pulse quickened with the thrill of a new game. It was no longer about Sonarika’s slow ruin. No, the target had shifted, the board had expanded. This was about vengeance against the thief who dared to steal her prey’s downfall.

She stood, adjusting her blazer, her expression once again serene and unreadable. To anyone watching, she was just another professional leaving after a quiet lunch. But inside, she was a storm.

'Enjoy your empire while it lasts, Ragini' 

Meghna whispered to the air as she stepped out of the café. 

'Because I will take it apart, brick by brick, until your ashes match Samhita’s'


FEW DAYS LATER , A DARK DAY!


The evening air of Mumbai was buzzing with life as Sonarika held Karan’s hand, carrying bags filled with groceries and toys. The boy’s laughter rang out as he waved his new toy car, tugging at his mother’s arm. 

"Mumma, look! This one goes faster than the red one!" he squealed with delight. 

Sonarika smiled warmly, brushing his hair aside. 

"Yes, my champion. Papa will be proud to see your race tonight" 

The atmosphere was light, unaware of the darkness about to descend. A screech of tires tore through the crowd. A black SUV halted violently at the market’s entrance, scattering pedestrians. The doors slammed open and a group of rugged men poured out, their presence suffocating. One of them, with a scar cutting across his face, pointed directly at Sonarika. 

"You! Come with us quietly" he barked. 

Karan clutched his mother’s saree, trembling, but Sonarika stood her ground, her voice firm. 

"Who the hell are you? Get away from me and my son"

The scarred goon smirked, stepping closer, his stench of alcohol invading her breath. He reached for her arm, but she slapped his hand away. 

"Don’t touch me" The crowd froze, whispers circling, but no one intervened. Another goon sneered. 

"She’s got spirit. Break it" 

His hand gripped her shoulder harshly. Sonarika’s eyes flared. In one swift move, she pulled out her pepper spray and blasted it into his face. He shrieked, clawing at his burning eyes as the others cursed and surged forward.

"Karan, run!" 

Sonarika yelled, shoving one of the men back. She clutched her son’s tiny hand and bolted through the narrow market lane. But the goons were faster, cutting her off. A fist smashed into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her as she collapsed to her knees. Karan screamed, throwing his little fists at the thug who hit his mother. 

"Leave her! Leave my mumma!" 

He cried, pounding on the man’s leg. The goons laughed cruelly. One of them shoved Karan to the ground, but the boy got up again, charging back at them through tears. 

"Let her go!" 

His voice cracked, his small frame trembling with rage. A heavy backhand struck his face, sending him sprawling. Another grabbed him by the collar and hurled him several feet away. 

"Filthy brat" The goon spat. 

Karan’s head hit the rough ground, his cries now ragged and broken. Sonarika’s scream split the night. 

"KARAN! Don’t touch him, you monsters!"

Her pleas drowned as two men pinned her arms, dragging her toward the SUV. She kicked and thrashed, her bangles shattering, blood streaking her wrist. 

"Somebody help me! Please!!" She screamed into the indifferent crowd. 

People averted their eyes, cowed by the glint of knives and metal rods flashing in the goons’ hands. Karan, crawling on his bruised knees, cried out. 

"Mumma! Mumma!" as he chased after the men.

The SUV’s door slammed shut with Sonarika inside, her fists pounding on the tinted glass. 

"Karan! My baby!" she wailed, as the engine roared and the vehicle lurched forward. 

Karan stumbled after it, his small arms outstretched, tears blinding him. 

"MUMMA! Don’t go! Please, don’t leave me!" 

His voice cracked with desperation. He ran until his legs failed him, crashing onto the road, sobbing into the dust as the SUV disappeared into the disappearing light of the sun as it set. On the asphalt, Karan curled up, his body aching from the blows, his palms scbanging the gravel as he whispered through tears.

"Papa… help… please, Papa…" 


                                                                                                                                                                     END OF CHAPTER 22

[Harry Jordan]

NEXT WEEK , THE TRANSFORMATION COMPLETES , THE EAGLE ARRIVES!!!!!!!

[Shiva shiva shiva]

???super

[Blackdick11]

Now it's time for some real action.... Brutal & Bloody

at this very point, I can’t help but recall that one dialogue from SRK's movie JAWAN… it slips into this moment flawlessly...."Bete ko haath lagane se pehle, baap se baat kar"

let’s see who the mastermind behind this kidnapping is?

[Harry Jordan]

"Bete ko haath lagane se pehle, baap se baat kar"

Exactly , Karan's vulnerable state and his wounded condition will trigger Michael to unleash. Setting the stage for THE STORM to arrive in Mumbai. Whoever has kidnapped Sonarika , will be wishing now their mother had better kept her legs closed because they are about to see their Judgement on the way and IT WILL BE BRUTAL!!!!!

[nostonari]

Waiting for the next blust bro

[Pardhu7_secret]

And here the story comes to the corner, which going to be wild and solid.. waiting waiting waiting...

[Kamuk Insaan]

Meghna’s absence had allowed sona a rare breath of sanity but her return will blur the lines again confusing her choices,,, unsettling her heart,,, and diverting her from the peace she had barely begun to find. honestly, I'm beginning to get suspicious of vikram. Is he just a puppet in megh's show or does he actually have something to gain from it? his actions and jealousy seem to be saying something else.
anyways, since sonarika’s been kidnapped,
let’s see who came first to rescue her—because it’s not just MK in the picture, vikram’s here too (I guess)

[Rocky@handsome]

@Blackdick11's
SRK's movie JAWAN... it slips into this moment flawlessly...."Bete ko haath lagane se pehle, baap se baat kar"
@Blackdick11's
Wow!!! A very sharp and powerful analysis.— in single line you stole the heart ❤️ 

Now, for Hemant to completely transform into Michael, he needed a strong trigger—kidnapping Sonarika and Karan in vulnerable conditions is the perfect situation to mark the start of his transformation.

Looking at the current situation between Sonarika and Hemant, the song from the movie *Aandhi* comes to mind—for Hemant:

"Tere bina zindagi se koi shikwa to nahi, 
tere bina zindagi bhi lekin zindagi to nahi, zindagi nahi, zindagi nahi."

Honestly, I feel deep pity for Hemant.  
I’ve noticed that Sonarika feels guilty, but that guilt is only because she betrayed a good man like Hemant, who invested all his strength and hope in a bright future for the family. She shattered that dream completely. Sonarika’s regret is only about breaking the heart of a kind person.

But I have never seen a moment when Sonarika truly realized she lost Hemant’s love and wanted to get it back. Her actions clearly show she isn’t deeply hurt by Hemant’s absence or losing his love. She never seemed to yearn or feel restless about it.

Her only sorrow is that she broke a good man’s heart and fears that he might destroy himself. Means, she now only feels sympathy for Hemant, nothing more.

I had hoped she would yearn for Hemant’s love or try to win him back, but I don’t see that happening. She’s still searching for herself, but deep down she has accepted Vikram as her future. This fits perfectly with the typical story of a “cheating and selfish wife” who plans to live happily with her lover without facing serious consequences. She’ll forget Hemant and move ahead with Vikram.

The way the story is progressing, it seems Harry doesn’t want Hemant and Sonarika to reunite—there is a lack of Sonarika fighting to regain Hemant's love. Their separation feels final so far.

Hemant will have to endure whatever comes—this is the usual outcome here: “Cheating wife happy, loyal husband forced to compromise with fate.”

Talking about Vikram, his true colors are slowly emerging. He’s such a possessive lover (though still just a lover) that he gets jealous of Hemant and Sonarika’s (still husband-wife) relationship. He talks big, pretends to accept Sonarika’s half-heartedness, and tries to show love poetically. But it’s nothing—just obsession. Trust me, seeing his nature, in the future he will never be satisfied with an incomplete heart. In fact, I doubt he would even tolerate a single word of appreciation for Hemant from Sonarika’s mouth.

I was just wondering how he would have reacted if the roles reversed—if Vikram were the husband and Sonarika the betrayer—how would he respond then? Would he still speak in loving poetic ways?

Sonarika rightly said that Hemant is stronger, resilient, and more mature—a man who can handle tough situations. If such a situation happened to Vikram, he would probably have gone crazy.

In fact, while Sonarika is struggling and fighting her inner demons, it was Hemant’s assuring words that gave her encouragement and strengthened her resolve to find herself—this once again shows one of Hemant’s great qualities—though deeply hurt, he still provides much-needed comforting words to Sonarika.

Anyway, whatever the outcome may be in the end, I honestly appreciate your writing skills Harry—most importantly, this story of yours has it all: love, family drama, emotions, betrayal, action, revenge, vengeance, and mystery thriller elements. I mean, every element is here—a true masterpiece. Can’t wait to see Michael’s transformation—eagerly looking forward to what’s next!!



Regards, Best wishes Harry ❤️

Rocky ❤️

[RCF]

@Blackdick11's
SRK's movie JAWAN... it slips into this moment flawlessly...."Bete ko haath lagane se pehle, baap se baat kar"
@Blackdick11's
Wow!!! A very sharp and powerful analysis.— in single line you stole the heart ❤️ 

Now, for Hemant to completely transform into Michael, he needed a strong trigger—kidnapping Sonarika and Karan in vulnerable conditions is the perfect situation to mark the start of his transformation.

Looking at the current situation between Sonarika and Hemant, the song from the movie *Aandhi* comes to mind—for Hemant:

"Tere bina zindagi se koi shikwa to nahi, 
tere bina zindagi bhi lekin zindagi to nahi, zindagi nahi, zindagi nahi."

Honestly, I feel deep pity for Hemant.  
I’ve noticed that Sonarika feels guilty, but that guilt is only because she betrayed a good man like Hemant, who invested all his strength and hope in a bright future for the family. She shattered that dream completely. Sonarika’s regret is only about breaking the heart of a kind person.

But I have never seen a moment when Sonarika truly realized she lost Hemant’s love and wanted to get it back. Her actions clearly show she isn’t deeply hurt by Hemant’s absence or losing his love. She never seemed to yearn or feel restless about it.

Her only sorrow is that she broke a good man’s heart and fears that he might destroy himself. Means, she now only feels sympathy for Hemant, nothing more.

I had hoped she would yearn for Hemant’s love or try to win him back, but I don’t see that happening. She’s still searching for herself, but deep down she has accepted Vikram as her future. This fits perfectly with the typical story of a “cheating and selfish wife” who plans to live happily with her lover without facing serious consequences. She’ll forget Hemant and move ahead with Vikram.

The way the story is progressing, it seems Harry doesn’t want Hemant and Sonarika to reunite—there is a lack of Sonarika fighting to regain Hemant's love. Their separation feels final so far.

Hemant will have to endure whatever comes—this is the usual outcome here: “Cheating wife happy, loyal husband forced to compromise with fate.”

Talking about Vikram, his true colors are slowly emerging. He’s such a possessive lover (though still just a lover) that he gets jealous of Hemant and Sonarika’s (still husband-wife) relationship. He talks big, pretends to accept Sonarika’s half-heartedness, and tries to show love poetically. But it’s nothing—just obsession. Trust me, seeing his nature, in the future he will never be satisfied with an incomplete heart. In fact, I doubt he would even tolerate a single word of appreciation for Hemant from Sonarika’s mouth.

I was just wondering how he would have reacted if the roles reversed—if Vikram were the husband and Sonarika the betrayer—how would he respond then? Would he still speak in loving poetic ways?

Sonarika rightly said that Hemant is stronger, resilient, and more mature—a man who can handle tough situations. If such a situation happened to Vikram, he would probably have gone crazy.

In fact, while Sonarika is struggling and fighting her inner demons, it was Hemant’s assuring words that gave her encouragement and strengthened her resolve to find herself—this once again shows one of Hemant’s great qualities—though deeply hurt, he still provides much-needed comforting words to Sonarika.

Anyway, whatever the outcome may be in the end, I honestly appreciate your writing skills Harry—most importantly, this story of yours has it all: love, family drama, emotions, betrayal, action, revenge, vengeance, and mystery thriller elements. I mean, every element is here—a true masterpiece. Can’t wait to see Michael’s transformation—eagerly looking forward to what’s next!!



Regards, Best wishes Harry ❤️

Rocky ❤️

I do have a totally different and contrasting interpretation of Sonarika's behavior, I agree she is not yearning his lost love as much as we wanted nor she is totally lost in her depression because of loss of her family but I feel her reactions are appropriate at this juncture because if she behaves as we wanted her to behave then it would seem unnatural as she like both her men for different reasons. The arc is consistent in maintaining that even now and it explains her behavior. 

As she discovers herself through therapy and finds back reasons for her behavior and also Meghana's involvement, it will show her truly what Hemanth means to her, as well gives her clarity on Vikram. Once she gets that clarity that's when she will truly miss Hemanth. I believe from what has happened so far couple are definitely going to end up with each other at the very end. 

~RCF