11-12-2025, 10:02 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-12-2025, 10:07 PM by heygiwriter. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Echoes of a New Beginning [18+] - Completed.
Echoes of a New Beginning
Six years later, in a cozy UK home, the early morning stillness was shattered by the creak of the bed, a storm of passion brewing.
Vikram, deep inside Pooja, their bodies intertwined in a fervent embrace, drove their lovemaking with intensity. Gasping, Pooja teased, "I married a monster—two babies aren't enough for you!"
Vikram grinned, "I need ten—marry someone else, leave me," he played along.
"They can't be," he mocked, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic sounds. As he released, they kissed in a hazy afterglow, only to drift apart when their second child's cry pierced the air. Vikram, now a devoted father of two—a lively boy and girl—adjusted to this new life, their family finally finding balance.
That afternoon, Vikram's father-in-law called, his voice warm, "Maaplai, Pooja's sister's baby warming function—we're expecting you all. Come soon!" Vikram assured, "Sure, Mama, we'll reach in four days." Pooja, fully immersed in Vikram and their kids, had let Arjun's memory fade, as had the world around her.
But for Vikram, the past lingered. He visited India often, slipping away to the guesthouse alone, recalling their shared moments. The house he once sold was now a bustling hotel hotspot, and sitting there brought him a fleeting relief. He'd murmur to himself, "I thought my love was great, but Arjun leaving us to be together proving his was true."
The day arrived, and as they landed in India, Arjun's friend called. "The guesthouse keys are with you—we're selling it. The buyer wants a beach resort." Vikram agreed, dropping Pooja at her family's home before returning alone. He sat at their old haunts, handing the keys to the friend. An old man nearby muttered, "You need to let it go—carrying it as baggage won't give you anything." The friend dismissed him as "mentally retarded," but Vikram sensed a message.
As he walked away, he resolved to release the past for his future's sake—carrying it held no meaning; loving and being loved was all that mattered.
After the function, Pooja, Vikram, and their two lively children boarded the flight back to the UK, the little ones nestled comfortably against Pooja's mother, their soft giggles filling the cabin as she soothed them with lullabies. Vikram, seated beside Pooja, felt a weight lift from his shoulders, the memories of Arjun and the guesthouse finally fading into a distant echo. He turned to her, his arms wrapping around her with a tighter, more deliberate embrace, a silent vow to release the past.
In Pooja's heart, the past—whatever it held—dissolved into irrelevance, a chapter long closed. Her world now revolved solely around Vikram, her love for him the deepest it had ever been, a flame that burned brighter than anything else.
She had forgotten Arjun, not just for the moment but for years, his memory erased by the life she built with Vikram.
Yet, she knew, without him ever saying a word, that Vikram had carried that burden—the guilt, the shadows of Arjun's sacrifice—hidden beneath his steadfast care. Her intuition, sharpened by their shared years, sensed it in the way his hold tightened, in the subtle release of tension she felt against her cheek as she pressed her face into his chest.
Her breath warmed his shirt, a quiet acknowledgment of his struggle, and her love swelled, knowing he loved her most, above all else. Vikram whispered to himself, "Love..."
the word a soft release, before speaking aloud, "I love you, Pooja." His voice carried a new purity, a devotion now devoted only to her and their children. She lifted her gaze, her eyes shimmering with tears of joy and understanding, and smiled, "I love you too," her words sealing their bond anew—a future where her heart beat only for him, and he, at last, let the past go, fully hers forever.
Vikram and Pooja landed at a bustling UK airport, pushing their luggage cart with their young son chattering excitedly beside them, a distant figure caught sight of them.
A man wearing a mask and a low cap stood frozen for a moment, his eyes widening in recognition. He quickly lowered his cap further to hide his gaze.
The woman beside him, holding a toddler boy in her arms, noticed and gently asked, "Arjun, why are you hiding your face?"
He whispered softly, "Don't forget—I don't carry that name anymore."
She glanced toward Vikram and Pooja, her eyes softening. "Are they... Vikram and Pooja?"
He nodded faintly, a quiet smile hidden beneath his mask.
She squeezed his hand. "Let's go meet them. Tell them you survived... You have a new family now."
Arjun paused, watching the happy family from afar—Pooja laughing as Vikram lifted their son onto his shoulders. He shook his head gently.
"No. Let them live happily... just as I do."
She smiled warmly, her eyes shining with affection. "The best thing I ever did in my life was meeting you at the research institute."
They held each other's hands tightly, the little boy in her arms reaching out to touch his father's face. Together, they turned and walked away into the crowd, disappearing among the travelers—two lives rebuilt, quietly intertwined, carrying forward in peace.
The Story Completed Here. PLEASE SHARE YOUR FEEDBACK
Echoes of a New Beginning
Six years later, in a cozy UK home, the early morning stillness was shattered by the creak of the bed, a storm of passion brewing.
Vikram, deep inside Pooja, their bodies intertwined in a fervent embrace, drove their lovemaking with intensity. Gasping, Pooja teased, "I married a monster—two babies aren't enough for you!"
Vikram grinned, "I need ten—marry someone else, leave me," he played along.
"They can't be," he mocked, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic sounds. As he released, they kissed in a hazy afterglow, only to drift apart when their second child's cry pierced the air. Vikram, now a devoted father of two—a lively boy and girl—adjusted to this new life, their family finally finding balance.
That afternoon, Vikram's father-in-law called, his voice warm, "Maaplai, Pooja's sister's baby warming function—we're expecting you all. Come soon!" Vikram assured, "Sure, Mama, we'll reach in four days." Pooja, fully immersed in Vikram and their kids, had let Arjun's memory fade, as had the world around her.
But for Vikram, the past lingered. He visited India often, slipping away to the guesthouse alone, recalling their shared moments. The house he once sold was now a bustling hotel hotspot, and sitting there brought him a fleeting relief. He'd murmur to himself, "I thought my love was great, but Arjun leaving us to be together proving his was true."
The day arrived, and as they landed in India, Arjun's friend called. "The guesthouse keys are with you—we're selling it. The buyer wants a beach resort." Vikram agreed, dropping Pooja at her family's home before returning alone. He sat at their old haunts, handing the keys to the friend. An old man nearby muttered, "You need to let it go—carrying it as baggage won't give you anything." The friend dismissed him as "mentally retarded," but Vikram sensed a message.
As he walked away, he resolved to release the past for his future's sake—carrying it held no meaning; loving and being loved was all that mattered.
After the function, Pooja, Vikram, and their two lively children boarded the flight back to the UK, the little ones nestled comfortably against Pooja's mother, their soft giggles filling the cabin as she soothed them with lullabies. Vikram, seated beside Pooja, felt a weight lift from his shoulders, the memories of Arjun and the guesthouse finally fading into a distant echo. He turned to her, his arms wrapping around her with a tighter, more deliberate embrace, a silent vow to release the past.
In Pooja's heart, the past—whatever it held—dissolved into irrelevance, a chapter long closed. Her world now revolved solely around Vikram, her love for him the deepest it had ever been, a flame that burned brighter than anything else.
She had forgotten Arjun, not just for the moment but for years, his memory erased by the life she built with Vikram.
Yet, she knew, without him ever saying a word, that Vikram had carried that burden—the guilt, the shadows of Arjun's sacrifice—hidden beneath his steadfast care. Her intuition, sharpened by their shared years, sensed it in the way his hold tightened, in the subtle release of tension she felt against her cheek as she pressed her face into his chest.
Her breath warmed his shirt, a quiet acknowledgment of his struggle, and her love swelled, knowing he loved her most, above all else. Vikram whispered to himself, "Love..."
the word a soft release, before speaking aloud, "I love you, Pooja." His voice carried a new purity, a devotion now devoted only to her and their children. She lifted her gaze, her eyes shimmering with tears of joy and understanding, and smiled, "I love you too," her words sealing their bond anew—a future where her heart beat only for him, and he, at last, let the past go, fully hers forever.
Vikram and Pooja landed at a bustling UK airport, pushing their luggage cart with their young son chattering excitedly beside them, a distant figure caught sight of them.
A man wearing a mask and a low cap stood frozen for a moment, his eyes widening in recognition. He quickly lowered his cap further to hide his gaze.
The woman beside him, holding a toddler boy in her arms, noticed and gently asked, "Arjun, why are you hiding your face?"
He whispered softly, "Don't forget—I don't carry that name anymore."
She glanced toward Vikram and Pooja, her eyes softening. "Are they... Vikram and Pooja?"
He nodded faintly, a quiet smile hidden beneath his mask.
She squeezed his hand. "Let's go meet them. Tell them you survived... You have a new family now."
Arjun paused, watching the happy family from afar—Pooja laughing as Vikram lifted their son onto his shoulders. He shook his head gently.
"No. Let them live happily... just as I do."
She smiled warmly, her eyes shining with affection. "The best thing I ever did in my life was meeting you at the research institute."
They held each other's hands tightly, the little boy in her arms reaching out to touch his father's face. Together, they turned and walked away into the crowd, disappearing among the travelers—two lives rebuilt, quietly intertwined, carrying forward in peace.
The Story Completed Here. PLEASE SHARE YOUR FEEDBACK
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)
