Adultery Love Sex And War : Age Of Darkness

[Shiva shiva shiva]

Update story sir

[DeanWinchester00007]

Hey , Harry , Small Request , If possible Can you please post pone the Update to this weekend ?

Update on week days will ruin the mood . So it is better to post the next update on this week end , it also preserve and add more in excitement .

Just a request , the rest is up to you to your mood .

Thank You . Harry

[RCF]

Post it when ready, No need to lock it for weekend. Its already late by two weeks despite promises, Readers has a choice to refrain from reading it if they do not want to read until next weekend.

[sudhir2580]

Don't again postpone to weekend....
It's already 2 weeks since last update

[Demeter]

However, I would like to emphasise that it is crucial that promises and announcements are kept.
If this attitude is not taken into account, it could call into question the author's credibility... 
Although I do not wish to judge this here.

It could also be possible that Harry has an important reason that should be communicated to us in order to avoid misperceptions.
I hope that nothing terrible has happened.


-----------
Demeter

[Munda007]

There is no need to delay to next chapter. People who are busy on weekdays can read it over weekend.

[RCF]

@Harry

Everything Ok? Its unusual you give no update on your chapter or delay. Hope all OK.

~RCF

[Harry Jordan]

REASON FOR DELAY

 Hello dear readers , 

            I know a lot of you were looking forward for the next update. But circumstances resulted in something terrible.

Like I said in my previous update post , I was moving my place of residence and was planning to post the chapter once the shift was done. As I was helping with the shift , I guess I did something way above my body can handle. While moving a heavy furniture , I slipped and long story short. I fell down through two levels of stairs. Though in the end the injury wasn't fatal , I was literally passed out from that fall. And what followed was worrysome as for the first time in my life , X-Rays were taken of my body. Yesterday , thankfully the results came and there was zero fractures , though there is some minor flesh wounds , overall its not at all anything serious. I am bed ridden while writing this now and in a way its a boon , because now I get to focus more on the story. However , mentally I am a bit shaken from that whole ordeal and I need some time to overcome this. In a way , this story writing is kind of my own therapy right now. I will post the next chapter soon , but I cannot give you an exact date or time. I will post a simple message on the day I post the chapter so that the readers are aware. I know a lot of you were looking forward to it and this unfortunate thing happened. Guess somebody jinxed me for ruining No Nut November! 

For now , I am recovering well , though not exactly functioning completely. Guess this brings a good opportunity for me to further flesh out my stories for the future. You guys don't need to worry , unlike some stories , I won't let Love Sex and War be an unfinished story.

I will let you all know when the next chapter comes , hopefully sooner since I had already completed it. So expect it very soon and please friendly advice to everyone. Only do chores that you are capable of doing , don't overwork your body. I learned a hard lesson about it.

    From Yours Truly And Recovering 

        HARRY JORDAN 

[SMOD-P]

Get well soon brother, that what matters right now... First health then other things...

[Dooom]

Get well soon

[DeanWinchester00007]

REASON FOR DELAY

 Hello dear readers , 

            I know a lot of you were looking forward for the next update. But circumstances resulted in something terrible.

Like I said in my previous update post , I was moving my place of residence and was planning to post the chapter once the shift was done. As I was helping with the shift , I guess I did something way above my body can handle. While moving a heavy furniture , I slipped and long story short. I fell down through two levels of stairs. Though in the end the injury wasn't fatal , I was literally passed out from that fall. And what followed was worrysome as for the first time in my life , X-Rays were taken of my body. Yesterday , thankfully the results came and there was zero fractures , though there is some minor flesh wounds , overall its not at all anything serious. I am bed ridden while writing this now and in a way its a boon , because now I get to focus more on the story. However , mentally I am a bit shaken from that whole ordeal and I need some time to overcome this. In a way , this story writing is kind of my own therapy right now. I will post the next chapter soon , but I cannot give you an exact date or time. I will post a simple message on the day I post the chapter so that the readers are aware. I know a lot of you were looking forward to it and this unfortunate thing happened. Guess somebody jinxed me for ruining No Nut November! 

For now , I am recovering well , though not exactly functioning completely. Guess this brings a good opportunity for me to further flesh out my stories for the future. You guys don't need to worry , unlike some stories , I won't let Love Sex and War be an unfinished story.

I will let you all know when the next chapter comes , hopefully sooner since I had already completed it. So expect it very soon and please friendly advice to everyone. Only do chores that you are capable of doing , don't overwork your body. I learned a hard lesson about it.

    From Yours Truly And Recovering 

        HARRY JORDAN 

Hey , Harry , I hope you are fine . 

It is time , DROP THE BOMB   .


Cannot wait to read the CAT FIGHT between SONA and MEGHNA ( I hope there is some thing happens in this update ) .

And also The AFTERMATH Hemant going back to home and see SONA and SONA reaction on ONS of Hemant x Meghna . 

I hope you did not ditch the drama and fight .

Cmon HARRY be a TRUMAN and DROP THE NUKE 

[Mahil]

UNFORTUNATE DELAY


Turns out there is some problem with my device. Thankfully I have saved my story and its content and kept backup in case and I am working to fix it. But it might take some time , once this is fixed  , I will upload next chapter. I know a lot of readers expect me to post it on weekends , I really try to do that but my erratic schedule is making me miss it which is why some of the recent chapters were released on odd timeframes. But I assure you all , this next chapter will come tomorrow. Thankfully I have enough skills to fix it myself , so its a short delay but I assure you it will be worth it.

Hey , Harry , I hope you are fine . 

It is time , DROP THE BOMB   .


Cannot wait to read the CAT FIGHT between SONA and MEGHNA ( I hope there is some thing happens in this update ) .

And also The AFTERMATH Hemant going back to home and see SONA and SONA reaction on ONS of Hemant x Meghna . 

I hope you did not ditch the drama and fight .

Cmon HARRY be a TRUMAN and DROP THE NUKE 

[EPLOVER4U]

sorry to know your condition hoping you are well harry, get well soon man. it may be my last comment here so i am leaving it with you so get-well mate. I really enjoying your story specially when the evolution of the new Mold characterization you do.

[Harry Jordan]

Chapter 27 is coming in few hours. Hope you guys like it!

[Blackdick11]

Chapter 27 is coming in few hours. Hope you guys like it!

I’m crazy excited for the next chapter.

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                            CHAPTER 27

The restaurant’s walls were washed in amber light, candles flickering against crystal glasses, waiters gliding silently across marble floors. The group—Ragini, Mouni, Sagar, Gayathri, and Tejas—filled a long central table, their laughter and chatter rising like soft music.


Sonarika and Vikram, however, were seated at a smaller table near the veranda—private, quiet, too intimate for Sonarika’s comfort.

Ragini leaned close before they separated.

"I hope you know what you are doing Sonarika" she whispered.

Sonarika squeezed her hand.

"I know, Ragini. Trust me. I have no intentions like before"

Ragini nodded but her eyes didn’t lighten.

"Please be careful"

The waiter set down their plates—her grilled fish, his butter chicken—and withdrew discreetly. Vikram folded his hands, studying her with quiet longing.

"I’m glad we could sit alone"

"Vikram… you shouldn’t bind yourself to me anymore" She inhaled deeply.

"Why not?" His brow creased. 

"Because I betrayed you" she said, voice trembling. 

"Just as I betrayed Hemant. I don’t feel that connection anymore. The relationship we had… it fed my sickness, my hypersexuality. Therapy showed me how unhealthy it all was"

Vikram’s expression softened, stubborn hope glowing behind his eyes.

"You believe it was sickness. But my feelings weren’t. I loved you, Sonarika"

She shook her head gently.

"You loved that version of me. And that version… she’s gone"

"Then I’ll adjust" Vikram whispered. 

"If you’ve changed, I’ll change too"

"Vikram" she said firmly. 

"I have evolved Vikram , I found my true self. And you , you won’t connect with the woman I’ve reclaimed. That flame…..it fed my sickness. It burned me. I don’t want it again. Not with anyone"

He swallowed—hurt, but not defeated.

"Even if you don’t feel anything now… I do. I always will. And I’ll try to be the man you can connect to. Eventually"

She looked at him with sad gratitude.

"You must walk away. Before you regret chasing someone who will never return the feelings"

He shook his head.

"I won’t regret you. Ever"

Silence stretched between them like a thin, strained wire. Then he dropped the revelation:

"I already have a hotel in Goa long before I built one in Jabalpur. I’ll be there often. You won’t be far"

"Vikram… no. I told you—" Her eyes widened—quiet panic.

"It won’t be like before" he said quickly. 

"No chasing. No… sexual expectations. Just time. Friendship. A chance to understand each other again. If something grows, it grows. If not… I’ll still be there when you need me"

She looked away, overwhelmed.

"The truth is, I don’t feel anything like that anymore"

"And that’s okay" Vikram said softly. 

"Let this be a fresh start"

Dinner ended. They rejoined their friends near the entrance. Ragini wrapped her arm around Sonarika’s, her voice bright:

"Ready for the sleepover?"

"Yes. Let’s go" Sonarika smiled. 

She turned to Vikram. 

"Good night"

He stepped back respectfully, hands in pockets, posture casual.

"Good night, Sonarika. Whatever happens… no pressure. No expectations. Just cordial friendship"

She nodded, grateful but conflicted.

"And this time" Vikram added gently. 

"I will get to know the real you , and I will relate to you as a person, not as a desire"

Before she could respond, Ragini tugged her away—gently but with purpose—toward the waiting cars. As she walked, a heaviness pressed into her chest. Vikram, despite everything, still looked at her with hope. Hope she could no longer return. And that guilt ate at her. But beneath it all, beneath the tangled mess of old wounds and new beginnings, one truth pulsed quietly, stubbornly, painfully:

There was only one man she would miss when she moved to Goa.

Only one man she still loved without admitting it aloud.

Only one man her heart refused to let go of.

Hemant.

The man she hurt. The man she lost. The man who walked out of her send-off like he didn’t care—

Yet still held a thread of her healing body and heart.


SOMETIME LATER AT RAGINI'S APARTMENT



Ragini’s apartment was warm and dim, scented with jasmine candles. Laughter echoed faintly from the living room where the girls opened snacks, poured soft drinks, and prepared for their night of harmless fun.

But Sonarika stood apart near the window, watching the city lights blur behind the glass. She held a cup of tea between her hands, letting the warmth anchor her—but her mind drifted far, far away. Memories rose like waves. Not forced. Not summoned. Just… returning to her, one after another.


She saw herself in a breezy white dress on a Goa beach—only months after her wedding. Sunlight glinted off the water. Hemant’s hand was in hers, shy but certain. He wasn’t the titan he is now. He was gentle. Laughing easily. He held her sandals because she wanted to run barefoot into the waves.

That trip was the first time she felt the world shrink to just the two of them.

The memory shifted—their living room, a Bollywood melody playing softly. She held his hands, trying to guide him, trying not to laugh too loudly at his stiff steps.

"Left foot, Hemant… left foot— no, not right—"

He tripped, nearly falling into her, and they both burst into laughter. He kissed her cheek awkwardly afterward, embarrassed and in love. She touched her cheek now. The warmth was long gone.


Then came the boat—floating lanterns on the water, fireflies dancing in the dark. Their honeymoon suite was surrounded by nothing but silence and moonlit ripples. Her wedding bangles jingled softly as she rested her head on his chest. He played with her hair absentmindedly, a habit he formed without realizing. And later that night— Their most passionate and intimate act. Sweet. Nervous. Full of hope.

He believed Karan was conceived that night. She still held on to the Kitchen fucking memory and stayed with it. But those were the days where her life was full of spark.


The memory faded into the scent of prenatal oils, hospital checkups, and swollen feet. She had been moody, exhausted, frightened. But Hemant? He was perfect. He stopped all extra shifts to stay home. He cooked. He cleaned. He massaged her legs when they cramped. He stayed awake through her midnight cravings. He read pregnancy books to understand every ache.

"Tell me what you need" he had said.

"And I’ll do it before you say it twice"

She closed her eyes now, swallowing the ache. Karan’s Birth The strongest memory arrived with a sting. She lay tired, trembling, overwhelmed—holding their newborn son. Their families celebrated outside, voices ringing with joy.

But Hemant…

He didn’t go to Karan first. He went to her. He cupped her face gently, tears in his eyes.

"You did it" he whispered.

"You brought him into this world. I’m so proud of you"

He kissed her forehead with reverence. Only then did he hold his son. That moment crystallized everything— The love he had for her, The devotion, The purity of that early life. And she shattered it.

A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it quickly. Ragini hadn't seen; she hoped no one did. Those memories were treasures— warmth wrapped in grief, love wrapped in loss. If time had a rewind button… She would go back to every moment. She would hold him tighter. She would delete every trace of Vikram. She would protect that life with both hands.

But time only moved forward. And her mistakes could only be carried, not erased. There was no more Hemant for her. No more of his warmth, No more of his hand in her hair, No more of his tired smile when he came home late, No more of the man whose heart she once called home.

Only memories.

Memories and consequences.

She took a deep breath and looked at her reflection in the window—older, wiser, lonelier… but determined. Karan. Her son. Her anchor. She might have failed as a wife— But she would not fail as a mother.

Her new life in VATIKA…Her journey of healing…Her work…Her discipline…All of it would be for him. To raise him well. To give him stability. To give him love unbroken by adult mistakes. No matter how shattered she felt inside, she would not let those cracks touch her child. She whispered softly.

"Whatever happens… Karan will have the best version of me"

In the quiet of the night, surrounded by giggles and gossip she barely heard, Sonarika hugged her memories close— Not to revive them. But to honor what they once meant. And to finally accept that the man who starred in all of them…was no longer hers.

But he would always, always be the love she remembers.



The women dialled down. The colorful party wears were quickly shed, replaced by an assortment of cozy pajamas and slinky nightgowns. They’d danced to thumping music until the downstairs neighbor complained, then collapsed into a heap of limbs and lyrics, singing off-key to old Bollywood classics. It was Mouni, ever the skeptic, who had yawned and declared the night was winding down.

That’s when Ragini had pounced, producing a bottle of amber liquor and a empty wine bottle. 

"Not so fast. We’re playing by my rules tonight. Truth or Dare. Dares are alcohol-based. You refuse a dare, you take a shot. But the truths…" 

She said, her eyes glinting with mischief 

"…are strictly carnal. Your deepest, naughtiest sexual histories. No holds barred"

The game had begun, and the revelations had flowed faster than the liquor. Ragini herself had been the first victim of the spin. Mouni teasingly remarked.

"You reap what you sow lady"

"Ugghhh....fine....ask me"

"Hmm...tell us the best sexual experience in your life"

Ragini smiled as her face brightened. She eventually started her narration.

"Okay......it was a week after my divorce was finalised. I was frequenting a beach restaurant on a daily. That is where I met him , Paolo , he was a french national , a painter. Came to Goa for some artwork. We ended up having a conversation , and that conversation led to a rapport and frequent visits in other places in Goa. And then one day at a beachside pub , he initiated it , kissing me deeply. I felt all kinds of butterflies in my stomach , plus I was still fuming from my divorce and that bastard that was my once husband. But my god , when I saw Paolo's cock , I felt it was worth it. I couldn't fit it all in my mouth but I deepthroated him hard. The kind of fucking he gave me that night , it was something celestial level. He gave me that Johnny Sins treatment!"

All the girls laughed at Ragini's last remark as they continued the bottle challenge. It eventually landed on Mouni. Ragini put up the question to her.

"Tell us the tale of how you lost your vriginity Mouni?"

Mouni raised her eyebrow as she grinned and then started.

"It was my second college year. There was a boy who every girl fancied including myself. His name was Rahul , a college rockstar. You know , long hair , charming face , impressive physique. But there was this bitch who called herself my friend , Tanya. She too wanted to get it with Rahul despite having a boyfriend Mahesh, who was a geek and a nerd. Eventually on a college annual day , Tanya broke it up with Mahesh to try her luck with Rahul. I ended up consoling Mahesh who was broken. I pitied him , he was a decent boy with nice mindset. Soon one thing led to another , and I slept with him. And Mahesh became the man to take my virginity , and dare I say , he was only nerd from the outside , but when it came to sex , he was something else. And he was packing in his trunks which really took me to a higher existence plain. And for poor Tanya , she became the loser in that scenario. Turns out  Rahul was a closeted chauvinist and she had to endure a toxic relationship for the next two years until they eventually broke up after college. At the end of the day I was the lucky one!"

Mouni giggled as she recollected those memories. The next bottle turn was on Neha as she narrated an embarrassing story.

"So I had a patient that came to me. He was a young man , having problems with confidence and assurance. I worked with him , building some workshop with him. One day , he ended up getting adventurous and tried to kiss me. I retorted and stopped him , telling him that he was reckless by mistake. He stopped coming and I felt disappointed. Then a week later on that weekend , I hooked up with a man on a pub and we had a one night stand. He was slightly older but his actions will put even the youngest men to shame. That morning as I went to his kitchen wearing just his shirt , I was shocked to see the young man there. Turns out the old guy was the man's father. He looked at me and said just one word , 'reckless' , and since then I've stopped doing random hook ups"

Everyone laughed at her awkward story. But it also loosened the moment between the ladies. Eventually the bottle landed on Sonarika as Ragini prepared her question.


"What is your favorite sex position? And don't you dare tell me its missionary"

"Hmm..." Sonarika pretended to think as she giggled.

"Come on Sonarika....spill some bold truth....what is your favorite sex position?"

Sonarika sighed and smiled and responded.

"Well , its the Flat Iron.......the Hot Seat.....and the Pearly Gates!"

All the women were stunned listening to Sonarika as she described the sex positions by its name. They were definitely not beginners positions

"Wow , Sonarika. I didn't knew you were this knowledgable about sex positions"

"It was recent knowledge actually. Vikram , he had a chart of different sex positions pasted on his bedroom , every day we would explore a new one during our affair days. It was a carnal class of pleasure and passion"

She wasn’t just listing positions; she was reliving them. Her eyes lost focus as she spoke. 

"The flatiron… he’d press my shoulders down into the bed, my ass in the air. He’d enter me from behind, so deep, but that wasn’t it. He’d reach one hand around to pinch my nipples. The combined pressure, inside and out… I would cum almost instantly. It was… efficient"

She took a sip of wine, her lips staining darker. 

"The hotseat was for slow end days of the week. I’d straddle him, reverse, so I could watch us in the mirror. He’d guide my hips, a slow, grinding circle. I’d control the depth, rocking back onto him until I could feel him in my stomach. I’d watch his hands squeeze my breasts, watch my own face contort, and it was like watching the most erotic film starring… me"
 

Ragini’s face had fallen slightly. She’d hoped for a story about Hemant, Sonarika’s husband. 

"So Vikram was the best, then? The great awakener?"

"No" Sonarika said sharply, the word a crack of ice. 

"That’s not what I said. He was a fantastic fuck, Ragini. The best I’d ever had. Physically. He made my body do things I didn’t know it could. But that’s all it was. A physical reaction"

Sonarika continued.

"What I had with Vikram was definitely impressive sex. But I no longer see it as an awakening , but rather my descend to a darker path. Hemant is the one that guided me , and in the end , his sex was the truly healing factor of my life. If it wasn't for him , I would've succumbed to this sickness long ago. Even the best orgasm I had is still with Hemant and whether you like it or not , it was missionary with him. And the truth is , whatever I had with Vikram , I understand it now that I can do those same things with Hemant if I wanted. The sad part is I was too late to see it"

All the women noticed the sadness of Sonarika as her eyes went wet. She revealed.

"Lately , I've been having this fantasy. Something that has stemmed from watching my hot husband getting off the bathroom often in just a towel. I desire to have him fuck me in the stand and deliver sex position. I loved our shower sessions. It was the only place that gave us some privacy in that apartment. God I loved those wet mornings!"

Ragini smiled seeing how Sonarika glitters when she talks about Hemant. 

"There is also something kinky we did"

"Go ahead.....reveal it to us"

Sonarika was hesitent to reveal it but eventually she said a word and everyone was amazed.

"Breastfeeding"

The ladies smiled as Mouni chimed in with a justification.

"That’s natural, Sonarika. Every mother feels that. The nipples are erogenous zones, after all"

"No, it’s not that" Sonarika said, her voice gaining a little strength, a confessional momentum. 

"It started before I was a mother. When I was five months pregnant with Karan" 

She looked around the circle, seeing only rapt attention. 

"Hemant… he was so nervous about having sex. Terrified he’d hurt me or the baby. The desire was there, I could see it in his eyes, but he was holding back so tightly" 

She wrapped her arms around herself, a self-soothing gesture. 

"One night, I was so… aching for him. I took his hand and guided his mouth to my breast. I was already leaking a little. I told him it would all be okay. And he… he drank"

A stunned silence fell.

"And?" Ragini prompted, her voice barely a breath.

"And I had an orgasm!" Sonarika said simply, a shiver running through her at the memory. 

"Just from that" 

The sensation flooded back to her now, the hot, wet pull of his mouth, the shocking, electric jolt of pleasure that arced straight from her nipple to her core, the way her back had arched off the bed completely without her permission. 

"He wasn’t into it at first, thought it was strange. But he saw what it did to me. After that, he’d worship them. For hours. That became our seduction. I’d just… tweak my cleavage, or let him glimpse a lace edge, and that was it. He was mine"

The raw intimacy of the confession left the room quiet for a moment, each woman lost in her own interpretations of the image.

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to an intense, hushed tone. 

"Vikram gave me orgasms. But Hemant… Hemant consummated me. He planted his seed in me and we made a person, a beautiful, brilliant boy. That feeling… of being so full of him, of us, of creating a life… that’s a bond no affair, no matter how passionate, can ever break or replicate. He is Karan’s father. And for that, and for the love I still have for him that’s somehow grown through all this mess… he will always be my best lover"

The room was silent, the raw vulnerability of the confession leaving no room for jokes or follow-up dares. Ragini simply reached out and squeezed Sonarika’s hand, a silent acknowledgment of the complicated, painful truth.


Ragini’s next question was gentle but precise, a surgeon’s scalpel. 

"Then why, Sonarika? Why did you dance with Vikram tonight? In front of everyone? In front of Hemant?"

Tears welled in Sonarika’s eyes instantly, brilliant and painful. 

"I wasn't expecting Hemant to come there after everything , and besides.....I wanted to know" 

She choked out. 

"I needed to feel if there was any connection left. Any spark from the affair that blew up my life" 

A single tear traced a path down her cheek. 

"And there was nothing. Nothing. It felt empty. Hollow. Dancing with him just made me see the whole thing for what it was—a reckless, stupid sin. It cost me my peace. It cost me my home. It cost me him"

She broke then, the composure she’d held all evening shattering. Ragini was there in an instant, pulling her into a fierce, supportive hug, rocking her gently as the other women made soft, comforting noises.

After a few minutes, the storm of sobs subsided. Sonarika pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, her voice raw but clearer. 

"The worst part is… I still love him. And now… now he’s this… this forbidden fruit" 

She let out a wet, shaky laugh. 

"Have you seen him recently? The way he’s been handling himself, that new confidence? It drives me wild. I… I’ve been relieving myself lately" 

She confessed, the admission leaving her in a rush, 

"Thinking only of him. Of his hands. Of his mouth on my breasts. But I know I can’t have him. I hurt him too much"

The heavy, sensual weight of her confession settled over the group. The playful energy of the game was gone, replaced by a thick, molten tension. The truths were no longer stories from the past; they were live wires sparking in the present. Ragini looked at Sonarika, then slowly scanned the faces of the other women, her eyes dark and thoughtful in the candlelight. The silence stretched, filled only by the faint sound of traffic far below


The moment stretched, thick with unspoken emotions, until Neha finally cleared her throat. 

"Well… I think we all need another drink after that"

As glasses were refilled and the tension began to dissipate into a more somber, reflective mood, Mouni leaned over and murmured to Sonarika. 

"This stand and deliver fantasy… you should tell him. You really should"


SOME TIME LATER


The world swam back into focus, a haze of vanilla-scented candle smoke and the sharp, lingering taste of whiskey. Sonarika’s head throbbed, a dull, rhythmic ache that pulsed behind her eyes. She was lying on a soft mattress, the cool cotton of a sheet tangled around her legs. The living room was dark now, the candles extinguished, the only light a pale silver streak of moonlight filtering through the window.


A warm, solid weight pressed against her back, accompanied by the soft, steady rhythm of deep breathing. Mouni. Sound asleep, one arm thrown carelessly across Sonarika’s waist, her lithe body radiating the heat of deep slumber and one too many drinks. Ragini must have finally called an end to the night, shepherding her tipsy friends to bed.


A deep, aching loneliness coiled in Sonarika’s belly, sharper than the headache. The memory of her confession, of the overwhelming desire for Hemant, laid her bare all over again. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will herself to sleep, to escape the hollow feeling.

Then, she felt it.

A shift in the air. A presence.

Her eyes fluttered open. A figure stood silhouetted in the moonlight by the door. Tall, broad-shouldered, a towel slung low around his hips. The faint, clean scent of his shower gel—sandalwood and bergamot—drifted across the room, cutting through the stale party air. His scent.

Hemant.

Her breath hitched. This wasn’t real. It couldn't be. He was a forbidden fantasy, a ghost from a life she’d shattered. Yet, her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, hopeful drumbeat. The towel was the one she knew so well, the deep blue one he always used after his morning shower, the fabric worn soft from years of use.

He moved toward the bed with that quiet, confident gait she’d ached for. The moonlight caught the hard planes of his chest, the newly defined muscles of his abdomen that had been driving her wild from a distance. He looked like a dream, a vision woven from her most desperate desires.

He didn’t say a word. He never did in these moments. He simply reached the bedside and looked down at her, his gaze a physical caress in the semi-darkness. His eyes, dark and intense, held none of the anger or betrayal of the real world. They held only a deep, smoldering hunger. For her.

He lowered himself onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Mouni, lost in her own drunken oblivion, didn’t stir. His hand, warm and so familiar, came up to cradle her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin with a tenderness that made her want to weep. He leaned down, and his mouth found hers.

It was a kiss of pure, unadulterated longing. Soft at first, a gentle exploration, a silent question. She answered it with a soft, desperate moan, her lips parting for him. His tongue slid against hers, tasting of mint and him, and it was everything. It was the kiss she’d been replaying in her mind for months, the connection she thought she’d lost forever. Her hands came up, her fingers sliding into his still-damp hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until she was dizzy with it.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a path of fire down her jaw, her neck. He nuzzled the sensitive spot just below her ear, and she shuddered, a full-body tremor of need. His hands were on her now, sliding the thin strap of her camisole down her shoulder, his mouth following the path of his fingers. He kissed the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin.

He pulled the sheet down, baring her to the waist. The cool night air pebbled her nipples an instant before his mouth closed over one. A broken cry escaped her lips. Oh god. It was exactly as she remembered, as she’d fantasized. The hot, wet suction, the skillful flick of his tongue, the gentle scbang of his teeth that sent electric jolts straight to her core. She arched her back, pressing her breast deeper into his mouth, her fingers tightening in his hair.

"Yes....Yes.....Ahh....Ahhhh.....Don’t stop"

He worshipped her breasts as if they were the only thing that mattered in the world, lavishing equal attention on each one, sucking and licking until she was writhing beneath him, her hips making small, involuntary circles against the mattress. The loneliness was gone, burned away by a rising inferno of pure sensation. This was her Hemant. The one who knew her body better than she knew it herself.

His hand slid down her trembling stomach, past the waistband of her thin sleep shorts, his fingers seeking the heat between her legs. She was already soaked, her arousal a slick, aching proof of how much she wanted this phantom, this dream. His fingers found her clit, and he circled it slowly, expertly, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Hemant" she gasped, her voice a ragged whisper. 

"Please......take me honey...."

He understood. He always did. He hooked his fingers into her shorts and panties, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs and discard them. Then he was moving, his body settling between her thighs. The rough terrycloth of his towel brushed against her inner thighs, a tantalizing friction. He was still wearing it.


He kissed her again, deeply, as he positioned himself at her entrance. She could feel the thick, hard length of him pressing against her, hot even through the towel. He was hard, pulsing and yearning for her like he always did and the anticipation of him filling her was an agony of pleasure. He pushed forward, and the towel provided a maddening, delicious barrier, the textured fabric rubbing against her sensitive folds as he pressed into her.


It was a slow, impossibly deep penetration. He filled her completely, stretching her, claiming her in a way that felt more real than anything in her waking life. She cried out, her nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even deeper. He began to move, a slow, rhythmic rocking that was pure, unadulterated ecstasy.


Each thrust was a perfect, glorious friction. The towel, now soaked with her arousal, became an instrument of torture and bliss, its rough texture amplifying every sensation. He built the pace slowly, masterfully, each movement calculated to unravel her. He murmured her name against her lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps that mirrored her own.


"I’ve missed you" Sonarika confessed, the words a ghost in the dark room. 

"I've missed us.....doing this!"

Tears of joy and desperate longing welled in her eyes. This was the connection. This was what she’d thrown away. Her body climbed higher and higher, teetering on the edge of an abyss of pleasure so profound it felt spiritual. She could feel the tension coiling tightly in her belly, a spring wound to its breaking point.

"I’m going to cum!" she sobbed, her body trembling uncontrollably beneath his. 

"Hemant, I’m CUMMING!!!!"

He drove into her one last, perfect time, hitting a spot so deep it stole the air from her lungs. The climax exploded through her, a silent, blinding supernova that shattered her into a million pieces. Wave after wave of pure, undiluted pleasure wracked her body, her inner muscles clenching around him in frantic, pulsing waves of release. She saw stars behind her eyelids, her entire universe narrowing to the exquisite sensation of him buried inside her, the source of her absolute completion.

She floated there, in that blissful, weightless space, waiting for the final, grounding punctuation of his own release. Waiting to feel the hot, liquid proof of his pleasure flooding into her.

But it never came.

The warmth of his body vanished. The weight on the mattress lifted. The scent of sandalwood faded.

Sonarika’s eyes flew open.

The room was empty. The space beside her was cold. Mouni still snored softly beside her, undisturbed.

A dream. A hallucination. A cruel, beautiful trick played by a drunk and lonely heart.

The aftermath of her powerful orgasm was still thrumming through her, a bittersweet echo in the silent darkness. Her body was slick with sweat and her own arousal, but the bed beside her was empty. A sigh, heavy with a profound and aching loss, escaped her lips. She curled onto her side, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

'Finally Hemant, you're in my dreams. And even in my dreams, you give me the best fucking of my life'

Sonarika thought, the words a silent prayer into the night. A single, hot tear traced a path down her temple and into her hairline. She closed her eyes, the ghost of his touch still tingling on her skin, and let the deep, empty silence of the room swallow her whole.

                                                                                                                                                                                                              (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER CONTD)

AT RACHIKA'S HOTEL SUITE



The room was dim, the curtains half-drawn, the city lights slipping through in pale silver stripes. Meghna lay across the bed, fully dressed but deeply unconscious—breathing unevenly, her hair sprawled over the pillow in a careless tangle.

Hemant sat in the armchair near her feet, elbows on his knees, hands folded. He stared at her. Not with desire. Not with judgment. But with a cold, unsettling curiosity.

How had she gone from scorning him…to desiring him? From insulting him…to collapsing in his bed? She once declared he wasn’t man enough for Sonarika. She once said he was Sonarika's biggest mistake. She once insulted him for being a 'beta' man. And tonight she tried to kiss him.

Why the sudden change? Why the sudden approval? Why the sudden desire?

Hemant watched her sleeping form—so peaceful, so untrustworthy. His instincts, sharpened by loss and betrayal, whispered:

'People don’t change overnight. But manipulators reveal themselves'

And for the first time, he began to suspect that Meghna wasn’t a bystander in his ruined marriage.

She was a thread…woven through every lie.

Hemant stood, slipped out of the room, and closed the door gently behind him. The suite’s living room was dimly lit, with only the bedside lamps and neon city glow. From the other bedroom, muffled sounds filtered through—Rachika’s moans, Kunal’s grunts, occasional thumps on the wall.

Hemant shook his head with a faint half-smile.

"Well done, Kunal" he murmured.

"At least someone is unbroken tonight"

The rhythmic thumping from the adjacent hotel room was a relentless, mocking metronome. Thump… thump-thump… thump. Each impact was underscored by a faint, feminine cry that was unmistakably Rachika’s. Hemant sank deeper into the plush hotel suite couch, the sounds of his friend Kunal’s successful night a stark contrast to his own.

The thumping was clearer , more intimate, each moan a tiny dagger. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration coiling tight in his gut. The sudden, jarring vibration in his pocket was a shock. He pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. The caller ID made his breath hitch. 

Pranitha Mehta.

Without a second thought, his thumb swiped to answer. The screen resolved into the face of the woman who had haunted him for weeks. She was backlit by soft lights of a luxurious hotel room—Amsterdam, he remembered—and her raven-black hair was tousled. She wore a simple, crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to hint at the swoop of her collarbones.

"Well, hello there, handsome" 

She said, her voice a warm, familiar melody that clashed with the grunts echoing from down the hall.

"Pranitha" His own voice was rough, unused. 

"This is a surprise"

Her sharp eyes, always so perceptive, darted across her screen, taking in the details behind him. 

"That doesn’t look like your apartment. A bit too… luxurious for your minimalist tastes"

"That's because its a hotel suite" he admitted, leaning back against the couch. 

"I’m on a double date"

He saw it then, the subtle shift in her expression. A slight tightening around her full lips, a flicker of something wounded in her dark eyes. 

"A date? I see. And here I was, thinking our kiss in that hospital was the start of something"

A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. 

"You disappeared to another continent. What was I supposed to think? You kissed me and then… poof. The great Pranitha Mehta, vanishing act complete"

"My obligations are not always my choice, Hemant" 

She said, her voice softening, losing its teasing edge. 

"You know the weight of my family’s name. But I need you to know, I seriously considered missing that flight. I wanted to stay with you that night" 

She paused, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. 

"So… is she nice? Your date?"

"She’s passed out drunk on the bed" He stated flatly. 

"And I have a rule about that"

A genuine, relieved smile touched her lips. 

"A man of principles. Even on a disappointing night. I admire that" 

Her gaze turned smoky, intent. 

"Tell me, Hemant. Have you ever had phone sex before?"

The question, so direct and sudden, sent a jolt straight to his core. He could feel a blush heating his neck. 

"Can’t say that I have. Not really my style"

"Mmm" she purred, the sound vibrating through the speaker. 

"Then I’ll just have to make up for leaving you hanging. It’s the least I can do"

It was only then that Hemant’s brain processed what his body had already noticed. The white shirt. The way it dbangd over her… and the absence of anything else underneath. The hem hit her mid-thigh, but there was no tell-tale line of shorts or pants. She’s wearing only the shirt.

"You’re noticing, aren’t you?" she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. 

"Just the shirt. I’ve been thinking about you all day and in this night"

She shifted, and the fabric gaped, offering a breathtaking glimpse of the soft curve of one breast, the peak of a smooth nipple before she let it fall closed again. Hemant’s mouth went dry.

"Let’s play a game" she murmured.

"If I had stayed that night, in that sterile hospital room… would you have dared to fuck me?"

The memory of that night—the pain, the anger, the raw grief—surged back. 

"I was in a bad place, Pranitha. Hurting. I wouldn’t have been gentle. It’s better that we didn’t"

"I don’t mind a little roughness" 

She breathed, her lips parting. Her tongue darted out to wet them. 

"Tell me. What do you like?"

"Like what?"

"Like things you love doing while having sex.....favorite sex position"

"I don't know....I am not exactly that knowledgable in sex Pranitha....I let the mood dictate the sex..."

Hemant admitted, the confession torn from him.

"Then our mood will be quiet.......enticing!" Her hand drifted down, out of the camera’s view. 

"What do you like about me?"

"Your body" he said without hesitation, the words blunt and honest. 

"It’s… a perfect, feminine specimen. It would shame even the best actresses in Bollywood"

A throaty, delighted laugh escaped her. 

"Such a poet. Okay. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Let me see it, Hemant. I want to see your dick"

His heart hammered against his ribs. 

"Pranitha… I…"

"Please" The single word was a whisper, a seduction in itself. 

"I’ve been so alone. Let me see what I’ve been dreaming about"

Swallowing his nervousness, his fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, then the button of his jeans. He shifted the phone’s camera, angling it down. The cool air of the suite hit his skin as he freed his erection, thick and already leaking, holding the phone so she could see.

For a long moment, she was silent, just staring. Her breath hitched audibly. 

"Oh…"

"Well?" he prompted, his voice strained.

"It’s a beautiful dick, Hemant" she finally said, her voice husky with want. 

"It looks like it would feel incredible to swallow. To ride"

"Maybe you can, when you get back to Mumbai" 

Hemant groaned, the image she painted searing his mind.

"I’m thinking about moving that timeline up" 

Pranitha moaned. In one fluid motion, she shrugged off the white shirt, tossing it aside, revealing her glorious, nude body to him completely. She rolled onto her back, the camera angling down to show her hand sliding between her legs. 

"I’m touching myself, Hemant. Thinking of you. Jerk off for me"

"It feels… awkward" 

He admitted, though his hand was already wrapping around his length, giving a tentative stroke.

"Don’t think of it as your hand" she instructed, her voice a sultry command. 

"Imagine it’s me. It’s my pussy. My sweet, delicate, desperate pussy that you’re stretching so deep" 

Her fingers worked between her legs, and he could see the slick gleam on her skin. 

"I haven’t been with a man since I met you. Only women. I’ve been the one fucking them, with a strap-on. Because I am infactuated by you, Hemant. Of all the things we can do with each other!"

Her words were a catalyst. His awkwardness vanished, replaced by a raw, primal need. His fist began moving in earnest, a tight, steady rhythm matching the filthy, wet sounds coming from her end of the call.

"I want you to take me from behind, from the top , from the side , EVERYWHERE!" 

Pranitha confessed, her back arching. 

"I want to feel all of you, just like that. HARD!"

He was close. The pressure was building, a coil winding tighter and tighter at the base of his spine. His breaths came in sharp grunts, syncing with her increasingly frantic moans. The world narrowed to the screen, to the sight of her pleasuring herself for him, to the sound of her voice pulling him over the edge.

"I’m cumming Pranitha…" he gritted out.

"Cum for me: she cried out, her body tensing. 

"Let me see it!"

With a guttural groan, Hemant erupted. Thick, pearlescent streaks shot into the air, splattering onto the hotel floor and across his stomach in hot, pulsing waves. On the screen, Pranitha’s orgasm hit simultaneously, her body bowing off the bed as a silent, open-mouthed scream seized her.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Hemant slumped back, spent, watching her slowly come down. A lazy, sated smile spread across her beautiful face.

"Mmm, look at that" she purred, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at the mess on his stomach. 


"I’m not letting a single drop go to waste next time. It’s going straight in my pussy… or my mouth. I’m going to treat your cum like sweet nectar and consume every last bit of you"

Hemant let out a breathless laugh, his body humming with satisfaction. 

"Thank you for… a much better night"

Pranitha’s smile turned wicked, a promise of things to come. 

"Oh, darling. This was just the warm-up. The real game will be so much more intense!!!!"

His brows lifted.

"We’ll see"

They exchanged goodbyes, her voice softening before the line clicked dead.

Hemant stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle.

Then he walked back into the bedroom.

Meghna lay exactly as before—quiet, unaware, unthreatening… yet now fully suspicious in his mind. He didn’t join her. He curled up on the small couch near the bed, pulling a thin blanket over himself. As he closed his eyes, he thought of betrayal. Of loyalty. Of strange women and familiar lies. Of his friends with benefits with Tamanna. Of a kiss with Pranitha. Of Sonarika’s smile at the party.

And somewhere between it all…Michael King slept with one eye open.


THE NEXT MORNING AT RAGINI'S APARTMENT


Sunlight seeped gently through Ragini’s sheer curtains, painting the room in a soft gold glow. Sonarika stirred awake on the mattress laid out on the floor, blinking slowly as she adjusted to the quiet morning. Ragini sat nearby with a cup of tea, watching her.


"You looked like you barely slept" she said softly.

"My mind… wouldn’t shut down" Sonarika rubbed her eyes. 

Ragini nodded. 

"You were thinking about him, weren’t you?"

A long breath.

"Partly. But also about Vikram" Sonarika’s voice cracked a little. 

"What about him?" Ragini raised an eyebrow.

Sonarika exhaled heavily, pulling her knees close.

"He’s… still pursuing me. Even after I told him clearly last night. He’s shifting his base to Goa. He already has a hotel there."

Ragini’s face darkened. 

"I can talk to him. Warn him. Tell him to stay away from you"

"No" Sonarika said quickly, shaking her head. 

"I’ll handle it. I made the mistakes. I’ll correct them"

Ragini searched her face—saw the sorrow, the resolve.

"Alright. Just remember, you’re not alone"

Sonarika nodded, grateful.

A few minutes later, Mouni emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, adjusting her dupatta.

"Thank you, Ragini" she said warmly. 

"Wonderful night. Much needed"

"Anytime" Ragini smiled.

Mouni hugged them both and left. The door had barely shut when another knock sounded. Ragini opened it. Rachika walked in—hair messy, makeup faded, wearing sunglasses indoors.

"Water" she croaked. 

"Please. Before I die"

Ragini laughed and handed her a glass. Sonarika watched her curiously, sensing something… off. Rachika gulped down the water, wiped her mouth dramatically, then sat on the sofa with a dreamy sigh.

"Girls… last night… I had the craziest time."

Ragini raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh? Let me guess—you ditched the slumber party and found mischief"

Rachika giggled, cheeks flushing.

"Actually… I hooked up with someone"

Ragini’s jaw dropped.

"You WHAT?" 

Rachika giggled harder.

"Don’t judge me, okay?"

Ragini burst out laughing. 

"Good for you! He must’ve been worth it if you’re glowing like this. Who was the lucky guy?"

Rachika’s giggle slowly faded. She stared at her hands. Then, voice small:

"…I had trouble breathing when I realized who it was"

Ragini leaned in. 

"Who?"

Rachika swallowed.

"Kunal"

Dead. Silence. Ragini froze. Sonarika’s eyes widened.

"K-Kunal?" Ragini repeated. 

"As in—Mouni’s husband Kunal?"

Rachika winced and nodded. 

"Yes"

"How did that even happen!?" Ragini demanded.

Rachika sighed.

"I was going back to my hotel suite. Meghna saw Kunal outside having drinks with his friend. She dragged me there, made it a double date… things escalated… and it just… happened"

Ragini blinked in shock.

"Wait. His friend? Who is this friend?"

Rachika thought for a moment.

"Umm… Hemant. Hemant Kumar. The man behind YOD Industries"

Sonarika’s face went white. Ragini slowly turned to look at her. Then back at Rachika.

"You’re sure?" Ragini asked, voice tightening.

"You’re talking about that Hemant Kumar?"

"Yes!" Rachika said cheerfully. 

"Meghna hooked up with him last night right in front of me! Actually that’s what got us all in the mood. She literally pounced on him. Locked him in the bedroom. Crazy night"

Sonarika’s heart stopped. Her stomach twisted. Her world flipped on its axis. Rachika continued casually, still unaware:

"Funny thing is, he didn’t even react much. Just sat there. Meghna was all over him. Anyway, that’s why I ended up with Kunal. The vibe just—"

But her voice faded. Because Sonarika was already standing, pale, shaking, eyes filled with betrayal and burning tears. Not because Hemant was with another woman—he had every right now. But because Meghna—the woman she trusted most— had been involved. Had touched him. Had crossed a line Sonarika never imagined she would.

Her voice was low.

Cold.

Shattered.

"I need to go"

Ragini reached out. 

"Sonarika—wait—"

But Sonarika was already at the door.

She didn’t slam it. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She walked out silently— like a woman whose last thread of belief had finally snapped.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                      (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER CONTD)

FEW HOURS LATER AT THE APARTMENT


Hemant laid collapsed on the couch of the living room. The very same couch he deemed uncomfortable. He arrived home way early all tired greeting Karan and Anjali. Now they are gone to their respective institutes for the day and Tara has gone to YOD Industries for her medical survey. Now the house had only him. No sign of Sonarika.

Hemant thought she is probably at Vikram's flat probably getting the "best sex" she didn't get from him. He knew those thoughts were wrong , but he could not help it , his mind was finding justifications for why she easily fell for another man's charm and threw her marriage in the gutter. Maybe he is well endowed. He didn't go into detail in his thoughts as those thoughts will further fuel his nightmares. And lately his nightmares have more Sonarika and Vikram rather than the threats to his life.


He barely got about ten minutes of sleep until the front door slammed open. He opened his eyes. Sonarika stood there — breath uneven, eyes blazing, face pale with fury and heartbreak. Hemant straightened. She ignored that.

"Where are Karan and Anjali?" she demanded, voice trembling with contained rage.

Hemant smirked tiredly. 

"Maybe take a look at the clock. Children leave in the morning, Sonarika. You’re late"

She clenched her teeth.

"And Tara?"

"At the factory" he replied calmly. 

"Medical check-up drive. She’ll be here after noon"

Silence. Then she exploded.

"What the hell were you doing last night!?" she shouted. 

"How could you sleep with Meghna!?"

Hemant’s eyes sharpened instantly — no fear, no guilt, just cold irritation.

"So you’re spying on me now?"

"I’m not spying!" she snapped. 

"Rachika told me. She didn’t know you were my husband"

Hemant let out a humorless laugh.

"Right. Because you never tell your friends the truth right? You lie to them as well just like you lied to me"

She flinched.

"That’s not the point!"

"It is" he countered. 

"You kept your marriage hidden from people you spend your life with. And you’re here lecturing me?"

"Hemant, stop deflecting!" she shouted, voice cracking. 

"Did you sleep with her or not!?"

Hemant finally lost patience. He stood up — calm, composed, but with a fire under his voice that silenced her.

"I am NOT bound to you anymore, Sonarika. I can sleep with whoever I want, whenever I want"

Her breath hitched — the words cut deep.

"But" he continued sharply. 

"I didn’t"

She blinked, stunned. 

"You… didn’t?"

"No" he said firmly. 

"Meghna was drunk out of her mind. We were playing chess. Something I said triggered her ego , I guess she has a power fantasy and my words felt challenging for her. She pounced on me. And then she passed out"

He shook his head in disgust.

"And you of all people know that I never — NEVER — take advantage of a woman under influence"

Her eyes widened slowly as the memory surfaced — the nights she had been tipsy, trying to initiate intimacy, and Hemant gently refusing every time.

"So… you didn’t…" She swallowed. 

"Nothing happened" he said plainly, arms crossing. 

"I moved away. She passed out. End of story"

Silence. Sonarika exhaled shakily — relief washing through her pain. But Hemant wasn’t done.

"Though I will confess....I had a little....sex talk....with a certain someone on the phone"

That confession landed on Sonarika like a bag of bricks. Her mind was a blend of anger and relief. She eventually asked.

"Who?"

Hemant stared at her with a glare as he replied.

"Its...none of your business. Just wanna be clear that nothing happened between me and Meghna. And nothing will happen!"

His assuring words made her feel happy and pride that Hemant didn't succumb to Meghna's mind game.

"And another thing" he said, voice low, controlled. 

"You need to seriously rethink your friendship with Meghna. She’s playing a game. A dark one"

He met her eyes.

"Everything about her actions last night… her behavior… her sudden interest in me… it doesn’t add up. Something’s off"

Sonarika’s expression hardened.

"I suspected something too" she whispered. 

"But I kept ignoring it. Maybe… I shouldn’t"

"Then that was your biggest mistake all along. Though Vikram comes a close second" he said.

She could see resentment in his tone when he talked about Vikram. Her anger softened into wounded resolve.

"Stay away from her" she said quietly.

"You should tell that to her. Because I am not an ignorant like you , and she will regret the day she tries to meddle in my life again"

He rubbed his forehead, exhausted.

"I’m going to sleep. Meghna’s drama didn’t let me rest all night"

Sonarika’s shoulders sagged — equal parts relief and heartbreak. She turned away, leaving the apartment in a rush of emotion — fury at Meghna, guilt in her heart, and a burning resolve:

Meghna would no longer have a place in her life. Or power over her future.

And somewhere inside her chest, just beneath the anger— A fragile, aching pain that Hemant has a special someone in his heart , someone that was taking her place!



AT MEGHNA'S APARTMENT


Meghna sat curled on her couch, one leg pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the half-finished cup of black coffee on the table. Her head throbbed. Her pride throbbed more. The first thing she noticed when she woke up at Rachika's suite is that the bed was empty. And on the desk had a note which simply wrote.

'You Need To Control Your Drinking'

Hemant had rejected her. Completely. Coldly. Without hesitation. She clenched her jaw, fingers digging into the cushion beside her.

"Unbelievable" she muttered.

"His wife fucks a bigger and better man than him and he has the balls to reject me?…..this will cost him dearly!"

But beneath the irritation, a deeper fear gnawed at her. She had overplayed her hand. Too soon. Too aggressively. Too openly. One wrong move… and years of planning could crumble. Her thoughts spiraled—calculating, rewinding, adjusting her narrative—when the doorbell rang.

A single, sharp ring.

Meghna froze.

She had a terrible feeling she knew who it was. Slowly, she walked to the door and opened it. Her breath caught. Sonarika stood there. Eyes blazing. Jaw tight. Her entire face carved in fury—the same fury Meghna had seen only once before, when Sonarika nearly strangled Sandeep for hurting Hemant.

Meghna stumbled back instinctively.

"S-Sonarika—listen, last night—"

Sonarika stepped inside before Meghna could finish, grabbed the door, and slammed it shut behind her. Her silence was louder than words. Meghna opened her mouth.

"Let me expl—"

SLAP

The sound cracked through the apartment like a whip. Meghna fell to the floor, palm pressed to her burning cheek, eyes wide in shock. She had never seen Sonarika like this. Never seen this cold, lethal version of her. Sonarika leaned down, voice low, steady, and terrifyingly calm.

"This....this is where we end our friendship Meghna. This is where we part ways"

"Listen , Sonarika. It was a mistake , okay?"

"Mistakes are when you accidentally do something harmful. But you , you tried to get physical with my husband. MY HUSBAND!"

"I am sorry it happened. When we were playing chess , he kind of said the right words that tempted me. And I lost control!"

"Which is why I am here to make it clear with you Meghna. If you can't control yourself over this , then you cannot be my friend anymore"

Meghna started to show a little anger with Sonarika's judgement.

"Are you seriously going to lecture me about morality Sonarika? Especially considering you betrayed that very husband for another man"

Sonarika's anger twitched but she replied without wasting a breath.

"Yes I am. Because there is not a moment that goes where I regret my actions. After a long time , I finally see my truth. I accept that I betrayed him and I am willing to face my consequences. But you , you don't get to play with his life like you did with mine!"

She didn’t yell. Didn’t cry. Didn’t tremble. Her rage was clean, controlled, and absolute.

"Stay away from my family. Stay away from me , and most importantly , stay away from MY HEMANT!"

Sonarika straightened, opened the door without looking back, and walked out. The door slammed shut behind her. Meghna sat on the floor, stunned, humiliated, and trembling.

Then—slowly—her expression shifted.

Shock turned to anger.
Anger turned to resentment.
Resentment twisted into something darker.

She touched her cheek, eyes narrowing.

"So that’s how you want to play it…" she whispered.

The fire inside her roared alive.

Sonarika had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Because Meghna had forgiven many things. But a slap…and a threat…from the sister who stole everything she deserved?

That, she would never forgive. Her vengeance sharpened. Her next move began forming in her mind.

And this time…she wasn’t going to hold back.


BACK AT THE APARTMENT


The apartment was quiet when Tara returned around noon. Her footsteps were soft, careful, respectful of the home she had quickly learned to navigate. She found Hemant exactly where he had left himself: half-asleep on the living room couch, one arm covering his eyes, exhaustion pulling at every line of his face.

Tara paused in the doorway.

There was something strangely vulnerable about him like this — the sharp, disciplined man, the hardened leader, the billionaire manufacturer of weapons and defense technologies… reduced to a tired father asleep on a couch too small for him. She approached gently.

"Sir" she whispered. 

"Your lunch is ready. Should I bring it here, or will you eat at the table?"

Hemant stirred, opening one eye.

"Tara… you’re back already?"

"It’s afternoon" she said with a small smile. 

"You haven’t moved an inch"

He sat up slowly.

"I didn’t sleep properly last night"

A shadow flickered across his face — memories of Meghna’s drunken chaos, the confrontation with Sonarika still echoing in his chest, and the raw act with Pranitha on the phone last night lingering like smoke. Tara took note of all of it. Quietly. Curiously. Intently.

"Come" she said softly. 

"Eat something"

She helped him to the dining table — not out of necessity, but out of a gentle assertiveness he didn’t mind. Two plates. Simple food. Warm, fragrant, comforting.

Hemant took a few bites, then leaned back.

"You look tired" Tara said.

"I am" he admitted. 

"Too much happened in one night"

She poured him water, her movements graceful yet observant.

"You carry a lot, sir" she said quietly. 

"More than people see"

She had a calming presence. Not demanding. Not dramatic. Not manipulative.

Just… steady.

"You’re good company" he said.

Tara smiled — small, polite — but in her eyes, something deeper glimmered. Not affection. Not desire. Something older. Something colder. Something curious.

Because Tara didn’t care about Hemant’s wealth, or his heartbreak, or his domestic turmoil. Tara cared about something else entirely. Something no one in this home understood. Something that lived beneath Hemant’s skin.

Michael King.

The lord of violence. The legend of fear. The shadow that once walked the underworld of three continents. Tara watched him as he ate — the way his jaw tensed, the way his eyes darkened in thought, the way he carried weight in silence.

She knew those signs. She knew the dormant storm when she saw it. He is returning, she thought quietly. Piece by piece. Hemant interrupted her thoughts.

"You’re very thoughtful today"

Tara blinked, pulling herself back.

"Just… observing, sir"

"You don’t talk much, do you?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Talking is overrated,” she replied. 

"Observation tells you more"

Hemant chuckled — the first real smile of his day.

"Well, keep observing. Maybe you’ll figure me out someday"

Her eyes lowered politely.

"I already am, sir"

He didn’t catch the tone — the layered truth hidden beneath her soft voice.

But if he had, he might have felt a chill.

Because Tara wasn’t here just to help.
She wasn’t here just to care for his son or his home.

She was here for the man behind Hemant.
The man beneath the calm.
The man he used to be.

Michael King.

And while Hemant found comfort in her steady presence, Tara’s mind whispered something far more chilling:

'The world thinks Michael King is dead. But I know better. And I’m here for him'

                                                                                                                                                                                                (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER CONTD)

FEW DAYS LATER AT YOD INDUSTRIES



The morning sunlight spilled across the polished floor of YOD Industries’ main lobby just as a Law Enforcement SUV screeched to a halt at the entrance. Security guards straightened immediately. Employees paused mid-task. From the vehicle stepped ACP Sanjana Ranawat, crisp in full uniform, holster at her side, eyes sharp as she scanned the buzzing industrial empire Hemant had built.

She walked inside with an authority that made even the most confident employees step aside. Kamya and Vaibhav froze when they recognized her.

"Manager’s office?" she asked curtly.

Kamya pointed nervously. 

"Top floor… first door to the right"

Sanjana headed up the stairs. Her boots echoed through the corridor.

Inside Hemant’s Office

Hemant was reviewing the updated development charts for the BTR project when he looked up—and his face shifted in surprise.

"Sanjana…" he muttered.

She stepped in. 

"Quite an empire you’ve built, Hemant"

Her tone was half-compliment, half-investigative.

He gestured for her to sit. 

"All the credit goes to the workers. I’m just steering the ship"

Sanjana scanned the luxurious office, the maps, the models, the surveillance feeds—everything. 

"I hope Anjali has recovered well?"

"She’s almost back to normal" Hemant replied, calm.

Sanjana nodded once. 

"Good. Because Dilawar and Rafique? Still missing. And the search is widening"

Hemant kept his expression steady. 

"I hope you find them"

Sanjana’s eyes narrowed—she had caught the subtle amusement behind his words.

"Interesting" she said. 

"Because almost everyone who crossed paths with those brothers suffered—physically or mentally. And yet you…"

She leaned forward.

"You walked away from each encounter without a single scratch"

Hemant didn’t blink. 

"You already know me, Sanjana. From college. I tend to ignore men like him"

"That’s my point" she said quietly. 

"The man I loved back then and the man sitting here now? They are not the same"

His jaw tightened. 

"You’re overthinking this because you’re a cop"

"Maybe" She stood. 

"But I am investigating the brothers’s disappearance and their trafficking network. And if my instincts lead me back here—"

Her gaze hardened.

"—I won’t come with warnings next time. I’ll come with handcuffs"

Hemant held her stare. Inside, he acknowledged the threat—but it didn’t shake him. He had faced worse. A brief silence filled the room before he spoke, voice softened with genuine regret.

"I am sorry for leaving you back then, when I left for Kashmir for my army training" he said. 

Sanjana’s eyes glistened, but she blinked the emotion away.

"So am I" she whispered.

Then she turned and walked out. Hemant allowed himself a slow exhale. Raquel Arrives. Raquel entered moments later, file in hand.

"Bhaijaan" he greeted.

Hemant straightened. 

"Did you get everything on Vikram?"

Raquel placed the file on the desk. 

"Yes. Vikram Bajaj is set to be the successor of BajajCorp. But he’s refusing the throne. Wants his sister to run the empire"

Hemant raised an eyebrow.

"So what does he want?"

"A quieter life" Raquel replied. 

"He’s taking over a small hotel division. Planning to shift base to Goa. Renovation permits already under process"

Hemant’s expression darkened.

Raquel continued.

"He’s also scouting high-end villas. Private ones. One specifically listed as suitable for… married or cohabiting couples"

Hemant looked down for a moment, jaw locked.

"So he wants to take her to Goa" he murmured.

"Start a new life with her"

For a few seconds, he said nothing. The betrayal pricked—but he forced the bitterness down. He stood up, turning cold, focused. Raquel waited. Hemant looked him dead in the eye.

"Enough about Vikram" he said. 

His voice shifted into the tone Michael King once used—the tone of command.

"How’s Operation Jewel Thief?"

"Nearly complete" Raquel answered instantly. 

"Manav has finished his work—all trucks are ready"

Hemant nodded.

"Good" he said, stepping toward the window overlooking his factory floor.

"Finish the final preparations"

His tone became razor-sharp.

"We move soon"

Raquel saluted lightly. 

"Yes, Bhaijaan"

He left. Hemant stayed still, watching his empire breathe below him—eyes cold, heart steeled.

Operation Jewel Thief was officially entering its endgame.


FEW DAYS LATER AT GURGAON


The SUV parked in the crescent-shaped driveway was unfamiliar, a hulking, black intrusion on the pristine symmetry of Ritesh’s Gurgaon villa. A long day at the corporate grind had left him drained, but the prospect of surprising his wife, Anjana, with an unexpected free evening lifted his spirits. He called her name as he crossed the marble lobby, the echo his only reply.

The silence felt… dense. He walked further in, his polished shoes clicking a rhythm of domestic anticipation. A trail of discarded clothing snaked from the foyer toward the master suite—a silk blouse, a pair of trousers that were not his own. His own pulse, a moment ago a steady drum of contentment, began to quicken.

The sound of the shower running drew him to the ensuite. Steam curled from the cracked door, carrying the faint, floral scent of Anjana’s expensive shampoo. He pushed the door open, a playful smile already forming on his lips. 

"Anjana? Surprise"

She stood behind the fogged glass of the shower stall, a blurred silhouette of curves and dripping water. She turned, her face appearing through the steam, a slight, almost lazy smile gracing her features. She held the curtain closed just below her breasts, hinting at the nude form beneath. 

"Ritesh. You’re home early"

"Wrapped up the merger. The whole day is ours" 

He said, his voice husky with sudden desire as he began to unbutton his shirt. He took a step toward the shower, toward his beautiful, wet wife.

That’s when the shape behind her moved.

The glass door slid open with a sharp hiss. A man stepped out, water sluicing off a powerful, heavily tattooed torso. Long, dark hair was plastered to his broad shoulders, a thick beard covering a jawline set with arrogant confidence. Daraaksh Zarir. A business associate Anjana had insisted was crucial to their new ventures. He was utterly, completely nude, and he looked at Ritesh not with shock, but with a smug, possessive gleam in his dark eyes. He didn’t speak. He simply walked past Ritesh, a predator dismissing prey, and left the bathroom.

Ritesh’s world tilted. The unbuttoned shirt hung uselessly from his shoulders. He could only stare, his mind refusing to process the image. His wife. Naked. In their shower. With him. Anjana’s smile didn’t falter. She stepped out, coolly wrapping herself in a plush white towel, seemingly oblivious to the water dripping from her skin onto the floor. She walked past him as if he were a piece of furniture.

His voice, when it finally came, was a shattered, reedy thing. 

"Anjana… why? What… what is this?"

She stopped at the bedroom threshold and turned. The warmth he had seen mere moments ago was gone, replaced by an expression of chilling calculation. 

"The merger isn’t the only thing that wrapped up today, Ritesh. Our little arrangement has served its purpose"

"Arrangement?" he choked out.

"Our marriage" she said, the word a mockery on her lips. 

"A brilliant performance, wasn’t it? Father always valued your dog-like loyalty to Bajaj Corp. Marrying you was the perfect way to secure my share of the empire. I needed your reputation, your dedication. And you gave it so freely" 

A cruel smile touched her lips. 

"I never loved you. Daraaksh… he is the only man who understands my ambition. The only one strong enough to stand beside me"

The raw, humiliating truth of it crashed down on him. The years, a lie. Their bed, a stage. His love, a tool. A guttural roar tore from his throat. He lunged, not at her, but at Zarir, who stood near the bed watching with detached amusement.

It was a hopeless gesture. Zarir moved with lethal grace, catching Ritesh’s swinging arm and twisting it with a brutal, practiced motion. The crack of bone was sickeningly loud. Agony blinded Ritesh for a second before a fist like forged iron connected with his jaw, snapping his head back. He was a desk-jockey; Zarir was a bruiser. The beating was swift, professional, and utterly merciless. Blow after blow rained down, a symphony of pain. Ritesh crumpled to the expensive Persian rug, his vision swimming with red.

Through a haze of suffering, he saw Zarir walk to a discarded leather jacket and pull out a long, wicked-looking hunter’s knife. Ritesh tried to plead, to beg, but only a bloody gurgle escaped his lips. Zarir’s cold eyes showed nothing—not anger, not hate, just a task to be completed. He drove the blade deep into Ritesh’s chest.

The pain was a white-hot sun, then a cold, shocking numbness. Zarir hauled him up by his armpits and hooked him over the high back of an ornate reading chair, the knife’s hilt protruding from his sternum, pinning him in place. His body spasmed, his life bleeding out onto the cream-colored upholstery.

Anjana watched it all, her expression one of mild interest. She untied her towel and let it drop to the floor. 

"Enough of him" she said, her voice flat. 

"Lets show him how a real man satisfies his woman!"

Zarir’s smirk returned. He walked to the bed, to their bed, and lay back against the pillows, his powerful body on full display, already semi-aroused again. Anjana climbed atop him, straddling his hips, her back to her dying husband.

Ritesh’s fading consciousness focused on the sight before him. The way her back muscles flexed as she moved. The sound of their skin meeting—a wet, rhythmic slap that was louder than his own struggling heart. Zarir’s large hands gripped her hips, pulling her down onto him with each deep, penetrating thrust.

“Yessss....ahhhh… just like that" Anjana moaned, her head falling back. 

"So much better....Ahhhh....much better than he ever was....Ahhhh.....So much more…...MANLY!”

Each word was a fresh wound. Each groan from Zarir was a nail in his coffin. Ritesh could feel the last of his strength ebbing away with each pulse of blood from his chest, each synchronised push of Zarir’s body into his wife’s. He was a spectator at his own execution, forced to watch the ultimate betrayal play out in the sanctuary of his own bedroom.

Anjana’s moans grew louder, more frantic. She was close. She rode Zarir with a savage hunger, her nails digging into his chest. Ritesh watched the muscles in her back tense, saw the sheen of sweat on her skin. Zarir’s thrusts became harder, more possessive, his grip on her bruisingly tight.

"I’m going to fill you up" Zarir growled, his voice a low rumble. 

"Make you mine completely"

Anjana’s cry was one of pure, unadulterated triumph as she came, her body shuddering violently above him. A final, powerful thrust from Zarir, a guttural groan, and he joined her, his own release pumping into her, claiming her in the most primal way possible right in front of her husband’s glazing eyes.

They collapsed together in a sweaty, sated heap, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room besides the faint, final rattle in Ritesh’s throat. As the last vestiges of light faded from his eyes, the last thing he saw was the curve of his wife’s smile as she lay in the arms of her lover.

Minutes later, Anjana propped herself up on an elbow, glancing dispassionately at the chair. 

"He’s gone"

Zarir followed her gaze, grunting in acknowledgment. He ran a hand possessively over her hip. 

"So, what’s next, queen of BajajCorp?"

Anjana’s mind was already calculating, the sexual haze clearing to reveal cold ambition. 

"Next? I put on a spectacular widow’s performance. The sympathy will be invaluable. The board will hand me everything on a silver platter out of pity. Especially considering Vikram has made the decision to move to Goa"

"One step closer to your rightful place Anjana. To become the ruler of the Bajaj Empire!"

"True , plus , I will be utilising this sympathy act to tempt Sonarika too"

"How?"

"The best way to entice and pull a woman is through the family attachment. I will make Sonarika come close to my mother and me , show her our vulnerable side. When she starts to connect with us as a family then she will be tempted to get close to Vikram. Vikram is chasing after her to Goa anyways"

"And you think it will work"

"If I keep my act well , then yes. Regardless , she will feel a connection to my mother anyways. Now with Ritesh's death , I can initiate a family union full of grief and condolences and Sonarika will be forced to spend time with us through Vikram"

"Interesting plan Anjana. I'll make the arrangements for his death to look like an accident"

Daraaksh said as he picked up his phone and called someone. After the call  , he turned to her.

"Let this be the beginning of our success story!"

"BajajCorp's throne is all mine now.....once Vikram leaves for Goa....I get the key to the kingdom"

Anjana says with a cold stare. Daraaksh matches her intensity as he finally declares.

"And once that is done....I will make my presence known....in Mumbai...to Michael King!"


THE DAY OF SEPARATION!


The apartment felt unusually quiet that morning. Karan was running around, excitedly stuffing action figures into his bag, while Anjali triple-checked her little diary where she had written a list titled “Delhi Summer Plans.” Their voices echoed with anticipation, innocence, and warmth.

But behind them, Sonarika and Hemant moved like shadows.

For Sonarika, every object in the living room looked like a memory — the sofa where they fell asleep watching a movie, the table where Hemant taught Karan math, the balcony where she and Hemant once planned their future. Now she was leaving this place behind. Not permanently, but long enough for it to feel like an ending.

For Hemant, every second felt like a countdown. This was the last morning he would see his family together under this roof. And though neither said it aloud, the truth sat heavily between them:

This was the day their marriage quietly broke.

He helped with the luggage silently. She avoided eye contact, fiddling with her dupatta every few seconds, twisting the fabric just to keep her trembling hands busy.

The drive to the airport was a strange blend of joy and grief. Karan and Anjali filled the car with nonstop chatter:

"Papa, Nana promised to take us to the water park!"

"And Nani said she’ll make that mango milkshake we love!"

"And we can go for cycling like we did when I was small!"

Hemant responded with soft smiles, nodding, keeping his eyes on the road. Sonarika stared out of the window, blinking too many times, swallowing too many feelings. She knew this wasn’t just a vacation.

After the summer, she would move to Goa. A new place. A new job. A new beginning. And Hemant believed she was choosing Vikram over their life. Each kilometer toward the airport felt like a string snapping between them.


The airport buzzed with crowds, loudspeaker announcements, rushing footsteps. But for them, it felt muted. Slow. Heavy. Near the departure gate, Hemant crouched and hugged Karan tightly.

"Be good, champ. When you come back, I’ll have a surprise ready for you"

Karan nodded vigorously. Anjali gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Hemant promised to call regularly. Then came the moment both dreaded.

Sonarika extended her hand. A simple handshake. Formal. Polite. Cold.

"Take care, Hemant" she whispered.

"You too"

She turned, taking a few steps, guiding the kids toward the gate. Karan and Anjali waved happily. But Hemant wasn’t looking at them.

He was looking at her.

At the woman he had once believed he’d grow old with.
The woman he still loved even after the betrayal.
The woman he thought he was losing forever.

And Sonarika… felt it.

A sob caught in her throat. No. This was not how their story ended. Not with a handshake. Not with this poisonous silence.

She spun around, her dupatta flying. She didn’t walk; she ran, weaving through slow-moving travelers, her eyes locked on him. Hemant stood where she had left him, a statue of heartbreak, his shoulders slumped in a defeat she had caused.

He looked up, confusion etching his features, just as she crashed into him.

Her hands flew to his face, her fingers gripping his jaw, pulling him down to her. And then her mouth was on his.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a desperate, hungry, claiming. It was every unsaid apology, every buried desire, every memory of his skin against hers. Her lips moved over his with a frantic intensity, pouring a lifetime of love and regret into the connection. A soft, startled sound escaped him, a gasp she swallowed greedily.

For a heartbeat, he was rigid with shock. Then, with a groan that vibrated deep in his chest and into her very core, he yielded. His arms wrapped around her, one hand splaying against the small of her back, crushing her to him, the other sliding down to grip her buttock through the thin fabric of her salwar, pulling her flush against the hard ridge of his arousal straining against his trousers. The familiar scent of him, flooded her senses, intoxicating and heartbreakingly perfect.

The world dissolved. The giggles of onlookers, the murmur of comments about the bold couple—it all faded into a distant hum. There was only his mouth, hot and demanding on hers. Only the possessive pressure of his hand on her backside, a sensation so intimately known it made her knees buckle. She clung to him, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

This. This was the inferno that had forged their son. This was the passion he thought she had given to another. She kissed him with everything she had, trying to brand the truth onto his lips. 

'I am yours. I have always been yours'

His tongue swept into her mouth, a bold, familiar invasion that tasted of coffee and longing. She met it with her own, a slick, heated dance that was as much a battle as a reunion. She could feel the frantic beating of his heart against her own, a wild, syncopated rhythm that spoke of pain and a desperate, rekindled need. The rough texture of his day-old stubble scbangd against her chin, a delicious friction that sent sparks straight to the aching, empty place between her legs. She pressed herself harder against him, wanting to feel every hard line of his body, wanting to melt into him and never leave.

Time stretched and bent. It could have been a minute; it could have been an hour. When they finally broke apart, it was only far enough to gasp for air. A thin, glistening strand of their combined saliva stretched between their swollen, bruised lips, a fragile, intimate tether that finally snapped and fell away.

Her chest heaved. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t care. She looked directly into his dark, stunned eyes, her voice a raw, desperate whisper.


"Whatever happens, Hemant… I will always love you. This is not an ending. It’s just… a path we have to walk so we can find our way back to each other"

She touched his cheek.

"You are mine. I am yours. And we will learn that truth from our life forward!"

Her eyes glistened but held a quiet strength. Then she turned, breathing deeply, straightening her dupatta, and walked back to her child and sister.

Hemant watched as she disappeared through the gate.

For the first time in weeks, a tear escaped his eye. And just beneath the hurt, for the first time in months…

A spark ignited.

Maybe someday…He would find her again. And maybe someday…They would finally return to each other.

One thing was certain. 

Their Love Wasn't Dead. Not Yet.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                 END OF CHAPTER 27