Adultery Mirna – Vikram's Innocent Hotwife

[jiivawonderland]

Update?

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 39: The Anniversary Alarm & The Past resurfacing 


Six months had slipped by like sand through fingers.

One morning in early 2026, the soft chime of the calendar alarm Vikram had set months earlier woke him. He reached for the phone, squinting at the note he’d typed long ago and forgotten:
3rd year anniversary is nearing.  


He stared at the screen, heart lurching.
How fast the first two years had gone.
Business had exploded—30 stores now, cash flowing from every direction, Krish’s financial network fully his to steer. He was entering much darker yet safer spaces—secret deals, hidden money vaults in the beach house—but he stopped himself each time for Mirnaa. Their bond had never been shaken. She was his anchor.
The biggest plus for Vikram was Mirnaa’s undemanding nature. All she wanted was for him to hear her hospital stories every night. She cooked for him early, packed lunch for herself and him, and in the evenings, they sometimes ate out, sometimes in—simple, loving rhythms.



For Mirnaa, nothing felt strange—except that one week stretch months ago when Vikram didn’t touch her. She’d worried, but he’d assured her it was stress, and it passed.
Every night, she came home and shared.


One evening, she sat beside him on the veranda, head on his shoulder.
“Today, a boy came in—eight years old, with broken legs from a fall. His family is struggling so much for financial need. The bills… they can’t afford the medicines.”
Vikram nodded, listening quietly, his arm around her.
She talked more—details of the boy’s pain, the mother’s tears, the father’s helplessness. Vikram nodded again, absorbing every word.
Next morning, he handed her an envelope—50,000 rupees.
“Give this for the medicines. Tell them it’s from a friend.”
Mirnaa’s eyes widened. She hugged him tightly,  "I love you.”


She blindly trusted him—never questioning where the money came from.
Another night: “A family today… the husband lost his job due to staying overnight in hospitals, can’t afford the burden. Their daughter needs surgery, but the costs…”
Vikram nodded, his hand stroking her hair.
Next day, he said: “Give them my card. Tell them to call—I’ll get them better jobs. Also let me pay the bills”
She hugged him again, kissed him softly on the lips. “You always know what to do. You’re my hero.”
His every action turned him into a hero before her, she found the hero she always needed just a hero who never wore a cop uniform.



He sponsored medical events too—went as guest speaker when she asked. Every time her queries were answered, she saw the love in it. For her, just being with him was love—and he had been doing more, without her knowing.


The nun from Kerala called regularly.
“How’s your health, kanna? Any news?”
Mirnaa laughed softly. “Not yet, Akka. It’s our conscious decision—to push for a few more years.”



Their sexual life had deepened gently—new positions, lace slipping over her curves, soft videos guiding her shy giggles into bolder lessons. Nothing hard, nothing brutal. Everything slow, trusting, loving. She came with soft cries, clung to him, whispered “I love you.” For her, it was perfect.
For Vikram, it was beautiful—but incomplete.



He still couldn’t unleash the aggression he’d shown Malavika. He’d ended the affair six months back—not just guilt, but a quiet realization: he thought he could explore more with Mirnaa. Yet his body never went there. He missed the raw release he’d found with Malavika. The cage held.



Then Krish called.
“Vikram,” Krish’s voice was low, urgent. “I’m returning next month. Very important. But before that, I need you to go to Trichy.”
Vikram’s grip tightened on the phone.
“The place where Sekaran anna tried that deal years back—you rescued him when you were driving. The land is key. Don’t ask why—not safe on phone. Trust me blindly. Go, buy everyone off with money. Do whatever it takes.”
Vikram felt the pull—old shadows stirring.
“I’ll go tomorrow,” he said.



He knew a deal like this could take a week. Legalities, negotiations, payoffs.
That night, he told Mirnaa.
“I have to go to Trichy for a week. Business. Call me every day.”
Mirnaa’s eyes widened slightly. Earlier trips were same-day or overnight—never seven days straight.
She nodded, trusting as always. “Be safe. I’ll call.”
Next morning, he kissed her forehead—lingering, guilty.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” she replied, smiling softly.
He left for Trichy.
The thugs Krish sent had booked him an outstation resort—30 km from his childhood village. Close enough to feel the pull, far enough to stay hidden.
As he wandered the resort parking lot that evening, he saw a familiar figure.
Vicky.
Older now, grey hair in his early thirties, clothes worn, posture slumped. No longer the fashionable rival—just a broken man.
Vikram’s rage stirred.
The first one who framed him. The one who started it all.
Vikram wanted to humiliate him. That was still pending, right?
But who was Vicky now? Why was he here?
Vikram decided to find out.



He stepped closer, voice low.
“Vicky.”
Vicky turned—eyes widening in recognition.
“You…”
The past had just walked into the present.
And Vikram felt the cage crack a little wider.

[harleyking]

amazing story,.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 40: Vikram and Malar in a room ; While Bharath and Mirna met




Vikram stepped closer in the resort parking lot, voice low and steady.
“Vicky.”


Vicky turned—eyes widening in recognition, then narrowing into that same cocky glint Vikram remembered from twenty years ago. No defeat in his posture, no slump. Just a smirk, thin and bitter.


“You,” Vicky said, almost laughing. “Still alive, huh? Thought you’d be rotting somewhere by now.”


The words hit like a slap. Vikram’s fists clenched. He’d come for the land deal Krish needed—buy everyone off, close it fast. But seeing Vicky like this—broken, ragged, yet still carrying that arrogant tilt—ignited something deeper.


Vikram wanted to prove he had everything now: better state, wealth, power. The memory flashed—Vicky fucking Malar in the store room, them not stopping even after seeing him. It still hurt.

He forgot why he was here.
“I’m going to the village,” Vikram said. “See my uncle.”
Vicky’s smirk faded slightly. “Good luck with that.”

Vikram entered his car. Vicky started his bike, shouted: “I didn’t welcome you to my home!”

Vikram drove the 30 km in silence, rage simmering.


The village looked smaller, poorer. He walked the familiar lanes to his uncle’s old house—now empty, roof sagging, walls cracked.


A neighbor—an old woman sweeping the yard—recognized him.
“Vikram? You came back?”

He nodded. “My uncle… how is he?”


She shook her head slowly. “Gone. Three years back.”
Vikram asked, “What happened?”


The lady said, “He got disease and died at the hospital three years back.”



Vikram recalled his meeting in the hospital with Malar—when he rescued Sekaran anna for treatment there. Exactly the day… the day he tore Malar’s blouse inside the store/motor room.


Vikram’s stomach dropped.


The old woman continued. “Malar’s not doing well. Vicky drinks too much, lost everything in gambling. They sold all the land, all the assets. Just two houses left—one rented, one they live in. They have a boy now—sixth standard. She works day and night to pay debts.”


Vikram excused old lady and walked towards Malar house

Vikram felt nostalgia hit like a wave—old memories of Malar’s smile, her hand in his, the life they almost had. Though rage burned, he felt bad for her.



He excused himself and moved to Malar’s house.


Malar opened the door.


She looked like a matured lady—not old, but tired. Her breasts were full, almost asking him to come and take her. Lines around her eyes, hair tied back simply, saree faded—but the moment she saw him, her face lit up with genuine happiness.


“Maamaa…”


She stepped aside. She was surprised she didnt know she will see a day when Vikram will be back and even in better bright way... 

“Come in.” She said.. 



Her pulse quicked, her legs could not stay, she ran to bring some water.


Inside, the house was bare—few pieces of furniture, a small TV in the corner. 


Vikram asked, “Nothing changed inside the house. There’s still uncle’s trace everywhere.”



Malar had a drop of tears. but she wiped it and decided to converse something else.. 

She looked at him in awe and said, “You look better now, mama. 

Last time at the hospital when we met, I saw blood on your shirt, knife in your hand… I worried your life would end that way. But I’m happy you didn’t end up as a henchman.”



“I’m better now,” he said quietly. “A businessman. Things changed.”


Vicky’s vehicle reached the house and he entered house as vikram said businessman.


Vicky sat in a chair, bottle in hand, eyes bloodshot.
Vikram stood in the doorway, as he is going to go out as soon as Vicky came in.


Malar’s eyes softened. A little smile came.
Vicky snorted from the chair. “Businessman, huh? Good for you.”
Vikram ignored him. Looked at Malar.


“I want to start a branch in Trichy. Maybe you and Vicky can handle it.”
Vicky and Malar looked at each other.


Vikram continued. “I know you are struggling. You don’t want to accept it, but just give me a chance for your revival—not doing it for you, consider I’m doing it for uncle…”


Vicky laughed—cocky, bitter. “I have no intentions.”

Vikram’s eyes stayed on Malar.
“If you respect me—your mama—come to the resort this evening. I’ll be waiting in my room.”


Vikram said this and moved.

Malar realized Vicky didn’t welcome him properly. She knew Vikram had been hurt, and Vicky was always cocky.

Vicky tensed like rock. “Don’t go.”

Vikram heard it as he reached the car.
He waited till 5 p.m.



The bell rang.
Malar stood there—alone.

She wore a better saree. Her shapes were still full. Vikram’s eyes always went to her breasts; Malar noticed it but didn’t say anything.
“What about Vicky?” he asked.
“He didn’t come,” she said softly.

Vikram smirked. He knew Vicky would follow her. He always did.



He locked the door, letting her in.


Meanwhile, same time in Chennai…


Bharath had been suspended from duty—serious charges of underworld links. It had happened just a week after he and Aadharsh met to discuss revamping the three-year-old deal. Bharath hadn’t fully agreed, but he wanted to see the potential. An informer had spoiled it, and now the informer was hiding in a hospital—the same one where Mirna worked.


Bharath wanted to catch him. Beat the pulp out of him.


As he reached the hospital entrance, a car came screeching in—emergency patient drop-off. The driver lost control. The car veered toward the entrance.
Bharath saw an old man step between the car and the crowd.
Mirna and a few others shouted, “Sir… look out!”


Bharath didn’t flinch.
He jumped—pushed the old man aside, took the impact himself. Scratches raked his arms, blood spilled, the car slammed into the wall.


No one else hurt.
The old man was saved.
Mirna ran to help the old man up.

Others rushed to Bharath—panicked, helping him stand.


He brushed them off, blood dripping from his arm, eyes scanning the crowd.

Mirna looked up—saw him.
Her eyes widened.

“Sir… are you okay?”
Bharath met her gaze—calm, steady.

“I’m fine,” he said.


Vikram was 400 km away—locked in a room with Malar—while Bharath stood at the hospital entrance, blood on his shirt, eyes on the woman Vikram married.


The cage was cracking wider.
And the shadows were moving closer.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 41: The Mask hates The Monster,  While Vikram fucked Malar


Bharath barely glanced at the nurse in the white saree asking if he was okay. His mind was fixed on the informer—blood on his arm, adrenaline still pumping, no time for small talk.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing past her without really seeing her face. She wore a mask anyway, just another hospital worker in the chaos.

Mirnaa watched him rush off, blood spots trailing on the floor from his scratches. Something about him felt familiar—strong, calm under pressure—but she pushed it aside. She turned back to the old man, helped the staff lift him onto a stretcher, then noticed the blood drops again.

She asked a co-staff to take care of the old man and decided to follow the trail.

She wasn’t aware he was a cop—or ex-cop. He looked rich, yet rough: beard, slight booze scent, clothes expensive but worn like a man who didn’t care. Almost like any normal drunk who stumbled into trouble.

The blood spots led down a quiet corridor. She heard muffled thuds—fists on flesh, grunts, a low growl.

She turned the corner.


Bharath had the informer cornered in a storage room—door half-open.

Kick after kick, punches landing on the face, the informer crumpling against the wall. Bharath’s voice was low, furious: “You spoiled it. You sold us out.”


The informer whimpered.



Bharath pulled a knife from his belt—small, sharp, glinting under the fluorescent light. He pressed it to the man’s throat.

Mirnaa froze.


What she thought was a hero moments ago—jumping to save a life—now looked like something else entirely. A monster. A henchman. The kind of man who destroyed families. The kind who haunted her nightmares from childhood—the ones who killed her parents, who took everything.


Her heart hammered. Past hurts flooded back: the henchmen who tore her world apart, the cop uncle who saved her at 15. But this man… this man was both. Hero and beast.

She backed away silently, trembling.

She rushed to security, whispered urgently: “There’s a fight in the storage room—someone with a knife.”


Then she fled to the nursing room, locked herself in a cabin, sat on the floor, breathing hard.

She wanted to forget that face.
The head nurse knocked later.

“Mirnaa? Day after tomorrow we have a big-shot gathering. They asked for staff nurses at the venue. I already informed them—you need to go. All staff will wear sarees, badges given by them. No hospital names mentioned. VIPs coming.”

Mirnaa nodded through the door, voice small.
“Sure, ma’am.”

She stayed inside a while longer, trying to steady her breathing.

But the image wouldn’t leave: Bharath with blood on his shirt, knife at a man’s throat.
Hero one minute.

Monster the next.

And she had looked right into his eyes.


Meanwhile, 400 km away …


Vikram had just locked the door with Malar.

As she turned to him and asked,

“Mama, why are you locking it?”

Vikram smiled.


He came and sat on the bed, asked her to sit beside him.

Malar hesitated but sat at the corner.


She began:


“Mama, my son will come in 2 hours from college… I should get back soon. What is the business plan you want to speak with me? How much should I invest?”


Vikram said, “So you came all the way to speak business, not to spend time with me?”


Malar laughed. “What, mama? Are we kids? I’m married and have a kid…”

Her face turned pale, realizing what he meant.


“Mama, do you still love me after what I have done?”


Vikram said, “I could not forget every single betrayal you did to me. The money you sent, the letters you gave, the umbrella we shared together… I know you loved me the same way I did. But what happened in the middle when I went to pursue college studies? How did Vicky claim you—my love, my innocence?”



Malar stood up. “Mama, those are in the past. Nothing can be changed. It doesn’t matter if I really loved you then, or if I carry the same weight, or if I never loved… Nothing matters. All that matters is I know I’m at fault, I caused you pain, and I’m at a place I need help.

I thought you would never see me—even in the hospital three years back you said you will revenge me—but now hearing my condition, you came to see me. I believe you forgot all and it’s in the past. I came against Vicky’s warning and wish… I came all the way trusting you will open a window that would end my miseries.”



Vikram laughed louder.


Malar asked, “Mama, why are you laughing?”



Vikram asked back, “So you are aware that you caused me pain, and you think now I’m good I would help you? How good am I looking now?”


Malar said, “You look good, mama—like always back then and now, even more…”



Vikram stood from the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Malar said, “Mama, what are you doing?”



Vikram said, “You said I’m looking good, right? See what I am.”


Vikram removed his shirt and turned back. Marks of so many wounds were on his back.


“Did you see that?”

Malar’s eyes melted. She touched each one.

“Can you spot the wound you caused?”

Malar searched his body…


Vikram pointed to his chest. “You caused inside. The pain, the trauma—even after my marriage I get those visuals. You and Vicky gave me that trauma!”



“I’m sorry, maama…” Malar fell on his feet.


Vikram raised her up, hands gripping her shoulders hard enough to bruise. His eyes burned into hers—cold, unyielding.



“There is one way I could get past this…”

Malar stayed silent in shock, breath catching.

Vikram’s voice dropped to a growl. “I just want Vicky to witness how I’m sexing with you.”


Before Malar could even react, Vikram sealed his lips on hers—crushing, possessive, no gentleness. He forced her mouth open with his tongue, invading deep, tasting her fear and hesitation. 


She stiffened, hands pushing weakly at his chest, but he didn’t relent. He kissed her like he was claiming back every lost second, every betrayal.



She hesitated, then went limp—resistance crumbling under the weight of his anger.


Vikram broke the kiss only to yank her saree pallu down in one violent tug. The fabric tore slightly at the seam. She gasped, looking down at her exposed blouse, breasts straining against it.



“Mama, I’m married and—”


She looked at how quickly Vikram dropped his pants—his white boxer brief shoved down, thick cock springing free, hard and throbbing with years of pent-up rage.



Before she could finish, his hands grabbed her waist, slamming her against him into another brutal kiss. Eyes closed, tongues clashing, he devoured her mouth for five full minutes—long, punishing, leaving her lips swollen and breathless.



Vikram pushed her backward onto the bed.


Malar crossed her arms over her chest—her huge breasts trying to spill out of the blouse.


Vikram stood over her, voice low and dangerous. “Twenty minutes more, your husband will be here.”


He went back to the door and unlocked it—deliberately, loudly.


“For the wounds. For the pain I endured. I’m asking you to support me so I will have a remedy. By making him watch.. Allow me to love you at least once.”


That one word sold her out.


He came on top of her—weight pinning her down—and tore open her blouse, buttons popping and scattering across the floor. She resisted—hands pushing at his chest—but it was weak, namesake, confused. He unhooked every hook with rough fingers, exposing her heavy breasts.



He removed her bra in one motion, grabbed both breasts hard, squeezing until she whimpered. “You became more sexy,” he snarled. “Never thought you would have these huge back then.”



Vikram swiftly forced her legs apart. His cock scratched her entry—rough, impatient. He leaned down, breath hot against her ear.



“This is how Vicky fucked you, right?” That day in theatre store room?


One hard push—his thick penis forced inside her in a single brutal thrust. She shouted a big “Aahhhhhhhhhhh… maamaaa!”—pain sharp, body arching off the bed.



“For our childhood love,” he growled.



He bent down, caught her neck in a tight, unforgiving grip—fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to make her gasp, her pulse hammering against his palm. His eyes locked on hers, dark and merciless, every ounce of twenty years of buried rage pouring out.


“This is for every lie,” he snarled, voice low and vicious. “Every time you chose him. Every time you let him take what was mine.”

He slammed into her harder—brutal, punishing thrusts that made the bedframe groan and the headboard bang against the wall. Their bodies shook violently with each impact, her breasts bouncing wildly, sweat already slicking their skin. 

Malar’s legs spread wider instinctively, thighs trembling as she tried to take him deeper, her hands clawing at his arm—not to stop him now, but to hold on as the pain twisted into something hotter, sharper.




Her moans grew louder—raw, broken sounds that started as protest and ended in desperate need. The bruises on her throat bloomed under his fingers, red and angry, marking her as his in that moment. He squeezed tighter for a heartbeat—enough to make her eyes flutter, her breath hitch—then released, only to grab her jaw instead, forcing her to look at him.

“Look at me,” he growled. “See who’s inside you now. Not him. Me.”

He bent lower, crashed his mouth onto hers in a deep, devouring kiss—teeth clashing, tongue forcing its way in, claiming every inch of her mouth while his hips never slowed. 

Each thrust drove deeper, hitting her G-spot with ruthless precision, sending electric shocks ripping through her core. Her walls clenched around him—tight, wet, greedy—betraying her completely.

She tried to speak—mumbled something incoherent against his lips—but he swallowed it, fucked her harder, hips snapping with punishing force. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, obscene and relentless. Her nails dug into his back, leaving red trails, urging him on even as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
He broke the kiss, rose up slightly, one hand still gripping her jaw, the other sliding down to pinch her nipple hard—twisting until she cried out, back arching off the bed.


“You feel that?” he hissed. 
“That’s what you stole from me. Now take it back—all of it.”


He slammed in one final time—deep, brutal, grinding against her clit—and she shattered. 

Her orgasm hit like a storm: walls spasming violently around him, a high, broken wail tearing from her throat, juices soaking the sheets beneath them. Her legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper as she convulsed.


Vikram followed seconds later—roaring as he buried himself to the hilt, flooding her with hot, thick spurts, filling her completely until it leaked out around his cock, dripping down her thighs. He stayed inside her, hips still twitching, riding out every last pulse, marking her in the most primal way.


He collapsed over her—sweat-slicked, breathing ragged—face buried in the crook of her neck. His cock still throbbed inside her, spent but not softening yet.
Malar’s hand came up slowly, trembling, and caressed his hair.


“You… unleashed it all,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “You’re free from the burden now. It all went out.”

Vikram lifted his head, looked down at her—tear-streaked face, swollen lips, bruised throat, breasts marked with his fingerprints, body trembling beneath him.


“I said everything,” he said quietly, 
“but missed telling you this… I loved you once. And that’s true.”


She stared at him for a long moment—eyes glassy, conflicted, vulnerable.

Then she pulled him down and lip-locked him—soft at first, then desperate, tongues tangling again like they were drowning in each other.

[jiivawonderland]

Fantastic update. finally Vikram fucked malar but Mirna hates Bharath? i didn't expect that. as usual your story is unpredictable

[heygiwriter]

Fantastic update. finally Vikram fucked malar but Mirna hates Bharath? i didn't expect that. as usual your story is unpredictable

Thanks

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 41: Vikram Panics - Mirna knows the Good Man is a Henchman 



Vikram and Malar were still embracing—nude, sweat-slicked, breathing heavy. His cock remained inside her, softening slowly, their bodies pressed tight in the aftermath. Semen leaked from her, dripping onto the sheets beneath them.

Vikram shifted, turned to lie beside her. He slid out gently—his cock slick with their juices, still half-hard, glistening. He pulled her close, arm around her waist, both of them catching their breath.
That’s when he noticed it.

A small shadow near the door—below the gap, shifting slightly, blocking a sliver of hallway light.
Vikram smiled victoriously to himself.

So Vicky is watching.

He leaned in, whispered to Malar, “Come on top of me.”

Malar shook her head weakly, voice hoarse. “No… I’m still out of it… my body’s shaking.”
Vikram’s hand tightened on her hip. “Your husband may enter now. I want you to cooperate with me.”

Malar’s eyes met his—tired, conflicted. “Mama, you’ve done everything. Enough. If you want to have sex with me, call me. I’ll give you my number. I’ll come to you wherever you are. But don’t do this.”

Vikram’s voice lowered. “Why do you worry about your marriage breaking up?”


She looked away. “No, mama. I worry about you. You came all the way here. You’re earning, you have status, you’re good… don’t turn into an animal.”


Vikram felt the care in her warning—like a ghost of the old Malar, the one who once loved him. It stung. But the rage was still there, hot and hungry.
He exhaled, released her hip. “Okay.”


He thought: All Vicky needs to know is we were at least nude. That I conquered her.

He smirked.



Twenty minutes later, Malar sat up. “Mama, my kid will come home soon. I should go.”

Vikram stopped her. “No. Wait.”



He was expecting Vicky’s presence—waiting for him to burst in, rage, fight, break. But the shadow stayed silent. No knock. No shout.
Vikram frowned. “Your husband came already. I was expecting him.”

Malar shook her head. “No. He won’t come. I’m sure. If he was here, do you think he would leave me simply fucking you?”
Vikram stared at her. Then: “Okay. At least talk with me for some time.”

Malar said strictly, “No.”


Vikram tried again. “Why? No one to take care of him or pick up your son?”
She said, “No. Vicky is there.”

Vikram said, “Then call and enquire.”
Malar sighed, took her phone, dialed Vicky.


Malar: Where are you did you picked our son
Vicky answered: “I’m home, yes i picked him on time.. How long is the business talk? Come soon.”



Vikram didn’t believe it. He decided to make her stay.
“At least bath yourself and go later. If you go now, everyone will smell.”

Malar hesitated. “Okay.”


But to delay time, Vikram stood, pulled her up with him, led her to the bathroom.
He entered the shower along with her.

Numerous kisses—hard, possessive—under the hot water. His hands everywhere: squeezing her breasts, fingers sliding between her legs again, making her gasp. He turned her around, pressed her against the tiled wall, entered her from behind—standing fuck, water cascading over them, his thrusts deep and relentless. She moaned, hands braced on the wall, head thrown back.

Another hour slipped away.


Almost 6:30 p.m.

Vikram brought her out—still nude, dripping wet—and fell on her for a second round on the bed. This time Malar came actively. She smiled, pushed him down. “Mama, wait. Let me at least play with you.”


She took his penis in her mouth—slow, deep, eyes locked on his. Her tongue swirled, lips tight, sucking him back to full hardness.
As she worked him, the phone rang.



It was Mirnaa.



Vikram panicked—froze. He slightly pushed Malar’s head off his cock.
She looked up, surprised.


Vikram answered, voice strained. “Hello?”
Mirnaa’s voice came through—soft, tired. “Vikram, how was your day?”


He swallowed hard. Malar watched him, still kneeling between his legs, lips wet.
“It’s tough,” he said. “So much work…”


Malar smiled faintly—knowing.


Vikram couldn’t even look at Mirnaa’s name on the screen. He just gulped his saliva. Lies after lies to Mirnaa.
She continued: “I missed you… especially today. I met a person who is a monster. I feel panic, the moment i know about him”
Vikram’s base shook. “Monster?”


Mirnaa answered, “Yes. At first I thought him to be a hero, but I figured out he is a henchman. I hate people like them to the core.”

Vikram’s voice blacked for a second. “What?”


Mirnaa: “Vikram? Vikram, are you there?”

His hand grabbed a piece of cloth to cover himself before he spoke. He actually struggled to find words.


Good man to henchman… did Mirnaa find out something?


Mirnaa till now has no idea that Vikram was once a Henchman, working in a dark world. All she knows about Vikram is , he is a good man and once an engineer and worked as a driver.. before becoming a business man..  


Will ,my cover blow.. Will she hate me? The question disturbed Vikram !!

[DeanWinchester00007]

MIRNA IS GOING TO FUCK BHARATH  OR GONNA FALL FOR HIM        . I am not ready for this . 

[jiivawonderland]

MIRNA IS GOING TO FUCK BHARATH   OR GONNA FALL FOR HIM        . I am not ready for this . 

Its a known one. Mirna going to be get fucked by BHARATH. but i dont know how author will write it. anyway i love his tasteful story telling especially the cheating part.. i still love how in his previous story made heroine get fucked by Rohan in Bangalore room while prem is away stuck inn meeting. It was high in erotic to me


But in case of MIRNA and Bharath, he makes it complicate by making Mirna hate Bharath right away. i was expecting them to crack a friendship a chapter before when he got wounded in hospital. Next chapter author made her hate Bharath 

[heygiwriter]

MIRNA IS GOING TO FUCK BHARATH   OR GONNA FALL FOR HIM        . I am not ready for this . 

how would i tell you :) just read with open mind.. i know sometimes we stick to the characters

[DeanWinchester00007]

Its a known one. Mirna going to be get fucked by BHARATH. but i dont know how author will write it. anyway i love his tasteful story telling especially the cheating part.. i still love how in his previous story made heroine get fucked by Rohan in Bangalore room while prem is away stuck inn meeting. It was high in erotic to me


But in case of MIRNA and Bharath, he makes it complicate by making Mirna hate Bharath right away. i was expecting them to crack a friendship a chapter before when he got wounded in hospital. Next chapter author made her hate Bharath 

It is easy . The Toxic attraction , or Maybe Bharath's domination , Mirna's nature is submissive , So He can easily dominant her . Maybe Bharath and Mirna will have heart to heart convo , Bharath explaining his side or manipulate her . Some thing must have happened to her which makes her to hate men like him but also sexually attracted to Men like him . 

I dont know , Let's see what happens next !

[heygiwriter]

amazing story,.

Thanks

[DeanWinchester00007]

how would i tell you :) just read with open mind.. i know sometimes we stick to the characters

I wont commit the same mistake twice , hahahah . The fault was seeing the story through characters not the Story . It was like reading the Story of XYZ , so the focus was  on the characters not on the whole story and which creates sympathy towards the character and an expectation that justice be done at the end .  . Now I just read the story that has  multiple characters .    So there is no Hero and No Villain and It perfectly justify the endings of your stories .

or something like that    

So , I am reading the story with an open mind , and loving it .

[heygiwriter]

I wont commit the same mistake twice , hahahah . The fault was seeing the story through characters not the Story . It was like reading the Story of XYZ , so the focus was  on the characters not on the whole story and which creates sympathy towards the character and an expectation that justice be done at the end .  . Now I just read the story that has  multiple characters .    So there is no Hero and No Villain and It perfectly justify the endings of your story .

or something like that    

So , I am reading the story with open mind , and loving it .

Then i can say you will enjoy it..

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 42: Appearances Can Be Deceiving



The call continued.
“Vikram… are you there…?”

Vikram’s grip on the phone tightened. “What happened? What monster? Who are you referring to as henchman?”

Mirnaa explained—voice low, almost whispering, still shaken.

“A car lost control at the hospital entrance. An old man was about to get hit. This man jumped in—pushed the old man away, took the scratches himself. Blood everywhere. I ran to help the old man… and then I saw him again later. He was beating someone in a room—kicks, punches, even pulled a knife. Threatening him. It was horrible. 

I got scared… ran to security. I think he’s a henchman. Some violent thug hiding in the hospital.”
Vikram’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Not me.


Still, his throat went dry. He wanted to gently steer her thoughts away from “henchman” — to inject something safer, something that would keep her trust intact.


“How do you know he’s a henchman?” he asked, voice calm, measured. “Just because he beat someone doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.”
Mirnaa paused. “Is that so?”


“Yeah,” he said, forcing softness. “There’s a popular saying: Appearances can be deceiving. Never judge too fast. Not all henchmen are bad—sometimes situations turn them. Maybe he’s someone who takes a knife for his family.”


Mirnaa didn’t argue. She agreed to his words completely.
“Okay…” she said softly.

But her past resurfaced—she couldn’t let it go entirely.
“Maybe,” she added. “But I still hate those kinds of people. Whatever the situation may be… henchmen are the ones who killed my family. I can’t forget that.”

Vikram’s chest tightened. “I know. Just… don’t assume. Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered.

A beat of silence. She sounded really tired.

“Anyway…” she continued, “the head nurse said I have to go to a big-shot event the day after tomorrow. As staff nurse. They’re sending people from different hospitals. We have to wear sarees, badges—no hospital names mentioned. Lots of VIPs coming.”


Vikram forced a smile into his voice. “Go ahead, darling. You’ll do great.”

“I miss you,” she said. 
“Especially today. The fear and panic I got today… if you were here, I would have buried my face in your chest and slept. Missed it.”

Vikram felt peace of mind and a sense of guilt together—twisting inside him.
“I miss you too,” he replied—and meant it.


They spoke a few more minutes—small things, her day, his “meetings.” Then she said goodnight.
He ended the call.

The panic was real.

He really worried—and wished—Mirnaa should never know about his real side.
Moments later, the phone buzzed again.
Krish.

Vikram answered.
“What are you doing?” Krish asked.

Vikram exhaled. “Handling something.”
Krish’s voice hardened. “Your delay in acquisition is causing issues for Sekaran. Just one day—finish it and call me.”
Vikram stared at the ceiling. Malar was still beside him—quiet, watching.

He said, “I’ll finish it.”

He hung up.

Malar stood slowly. She gathered her clothes, dressed in silence.
Before she left, she paused at the door—dropped a small piece of paper on the table.
Her mobile number.

She looked at him once—eyes soft, conflicted—then slipped out without a word.
Vikram stared at the paper.
The room felt colder.

Next day…


Vikram was not sure why Krish was so insistent and what the trouble with Sekaran anna was. His heat and revenge had shaded his eyes. He decided to set aside his heat. With his revenge completed, he wanted to pursue the matter.

He immediately contacted local thugs through Krish’s links and proceeded with the acquisition.

He dialed Mohan and tried to check on Sekaran—to which Mohan said he was not sure and had not contacted him for a long time.
The acquisition didn’t go as he thought—delay, external forces pulling back. He updated Krish, who said Aadharsh was looking to grab it, but the giver was not ready to give it; he was causing external threats.

Vikram then decided to use his previous skill set that he used when he was with Sekaran. He caught a local investor and auditor through which he found all weak links and spied the source. By evening, the actual provider came in line. Krish was surprised—the deal was made in 8 hours since his call.

That night Krish said, “Sekaran is in danger. But to save him we need to get back his network, his men.”
Vikram was shocked.


If the men they spoke about was him (he hid it).
“And where is Sekaran actually? Is he not in USA?” he asked.

Krish said, “Family played spoilsport. They said something and took him to India. Since then we couldn’t reach them.”


krish said. To keep it simple, Aadharsh wanted to capture entire network, to get that he needs Sekaran's men, His resource, including me to his side. But the politician Aadharsh linked to is so cruel. though we do dark business, we don't  do  certain things , Aadharsh willing to do it, how would we join them.

Bharath the sharp young mind is his target as well. The contacts he have is unexplainable and for him people are ready to do anything, i mean in important circle.

Aadharsh is now pressuring Bharath. Bharath is disinterested to join Aadharsh. Vikram asked, “The Bharath—the cop we met at Swathi’s father’s place?”

Krish said, “Yes”



Vikram asked, “How come he?”

Krish said, “Bharath is unlikely to join, but Aadharsh is putting pressure. He offered him big. Earlier even before Swathi issue, Bharath was about to join them—it was for the way of thanking his mentor Bharath chose our side, bringing back is hectic. But he is not seeming interested in joining us or Aadharsh—so Aadharsh used an informer to make a complaint that gets him suspended.”

Vikram said, “Oh no… 

Krish continued: Worst part is Bharath may have to succumb to Aadharsh if he keeps pressuring. Only way is activating the previous men of Sekaran.”


“Right now Sekaran might be under their control but he has not named them yet,” Krish said. “Vikram cried inside to save him, to save his life Sekaran is risking.”


Krish said, “He had spotted Sekaran’s whereabouts just few minutes back. He will be saved—not to worry.”
Vikram was not able to sleep until dawn. A message came from Krish.
Sekaran anna is safe.

That is when Vikram had gone to sleep.
He didn’t even attend Mirnaa’s call that night due to the heaviness.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 43: Mirna's Accidental tease



Next morning—the third day—Mirnaa was attending the big-shot event.


Vikram, with all his pending work finally over, relaxed in the resort room. The acquisition was complete, legalities tied up, payoffs made. He had finished what Krish demanded in record time. For the first time in days, his mind felt lighter.


He decided to call Malar.
She picked up on the first ring.


Vikram smiled. “How did you pick up on the first ring?”
Malar’s voice came soft, almost shy. “I was just looking forward to our call.”
Vikram’s tone dropped. “Come soon. I’m waiting for you.”
Malar kissed the phone—loud, playful—and cut the call.


Meanwhile, Mirnaa reached the event venue.

Almost 1,000 people participated. The main hall buzzed with speeches and networking. Medical camps were attached to the back side of the building—only important people, their staff, and bodyguards were allowed inside the main area.
Mirnaa stood near the edge, watching the politician on stage. He introduced someone: “A young talent, Aadharsh…”


Suddenly, someone rushed from the back. A few people ran in the same direction. Mirnaa saw the movement and followed—curious, concerned. Behind the building, away from the crowd’s view, a man with his face covered by cloth was being beaten and fell down.


When she came near, the watchman removed the cloth.
Mirnaa was shocked.


It was Bharath—the man she thought was a monster from the hospital the other day. Now he lay on the floor, bloodied, bruised, barely conscious.
Everyone else wanted the security officer to come in.


Mirnaa urged, “No—take him to the bed for first aid first.”

Another nurse working with her frowned. “Hey, isn’t this the same person from the hospital the other day—beating someone? Why are you trying to treat him? It’s a big-shot event. Don’t get into trouble.”


Mirnaa responded firmly, “Good man or bad, he needs to be treated. That’s why we’re on the job.”


Bharath could hear her voice—faint, distant. He wanted to see her, but the beatings were too much. He had come here to meet Aadharsh and inform him he wouldn’t bend. Aadharsh had offered a better deal, but the informer—who took the earlier beating personally—bypassed Aadharsh and caused this. Attacked from behind. Otherwise, they wouldn’t stand a chance against Bharath.


A doctor arrived. He knew Bharath was a cop. “No need to inform the security officer. I’ve done it. I’ll treat him.”


He treated him—cleaned wounds, gave IV drips.


As the crowd was full and staff nurses were adequate, the doctor asked Mirnaa to take care of him.


Mirnaa was half minded, she wanted to help him but knowing he was a bad man, She just made sure he was doing fine and decided to go away when some other nurse came to her place.


As Bharath was in deep sleep due to medicine…
Mirnaa asked a nurse to shift her place. “Wait for 2 hours.”


Meanwhile, at the resort…
The door was wide open.
Vikram and Malar kissed each other hungrily.
He locked the door and asked, “Do you miss me that much?”
Malar smiled. “Yes, I do.”


Vikram mocked, “Is this the same woman who said ‘I’m married, I have a kid, don’t turn animal’?”

Malar smiled. “Both are the same woman. Both are true.”


He said, “Explain how you justify this today.”

Malar took a deep breath. “I have wishes. I mean, most women could have—like you men. We want to enjoy sex to the fullest, and need to explore a lot. But you guys judge us, right? For instance, I tried to sit on him and ride Vicky one day. He said some bad cursing words and asked, ‘Are you a slut to have such a mind or done with someone else?’ From then on I never asked him anything. I just spread my legs whenever he wanted. The fear of what my loved one will think hurts me more. Today I have you. It doesn’t matter what you think. We have sexed once. I don’t have anything to lose, but a lot to gain. My way, I can be with you. If you judge me, I have the option to kick you and get away.”


Vikram was surprised. “Who is she? Is she my princess Malar? Can you speak this openly?”
“I can do a lot more,” she said.


She unbuttoned Vikram’s shirt and inserted her hand inside his boxer. 

“Come, let’s start. My way. I want to ride you.”


Vikram teased, “Hey, no…” He mimicked her earlier resistance, then fell on the bed.



Two hours later, a staff nurse phoned the room.

“Mirnaa, my work is done. Come in 10 minutes. I’ll hand over the file and get to your room. Also pack your things—your hospital people called back. They have many emergency cases there.”
The phone ring made Bharath awake. He could not open his eyes fully, but he stirred. The sun rays screeching in made him more irritated. He closed his eyes again.



Mirnaa saw the patient chart—the name was written as “Case 16,” no name, nothing.
Mirnaa quickly packed all her belongings she had kept there—stethoscope, notepad, small pouch of essentials—stuffing them into her bag with hurried hands. Her shift was over, emergency cases were piling up back at the main hospital, and she needed to leave fast.


Then she noticed it.



One charger—hers—still plugged into the socket above Bharath’s bed.

The doctor who’d come earlier to check on him had used it to charge his phone, and it was left dangling just out of easy reach. The plug point was mounted high on the wall, right above his headboard.


No one else was around. The other nurse had stepped out for a moment.
Mirnaa glanced at Bharath—he was still in deep sleep, medicine keeping him under, chest rising and falling slowly, bandages fresh on his arms, dried blood staining the edges.

She couldn’t leave the charger behind.

With urgency pushing her, she stepped close to the bed, leaned over him, and stretched upward.

Her body arched—waist bending, one knee pressing lightly into the mattress edge for balance. The saree, already slightly loosened from the long day, slid a little at her shoulder. The pallu dipped, the blouse stretched tight across her chest.
She reached higher—fingertips brushing the plug.


In that stretch, her breasts—full, heavy from the day, cradled in the soft cotton of her blouse—came forward and gently, unintentionally, crushed against Bharath’s face.


The weight settled first—warm, pillowy softness pressing directly over his cheek and mouth through the thin fabric. The curve of one breast molded perfectly against his lips, the other resting across his nose and closed eyes. 

The blouse was slightly damp from her sweat after the long shift, clinging just enough to outline the shape, the faint scent of her skin—hospital antiseptic mixed with her own faint jasmine—drifting down.


Bharath stirred.

His body registered it before his mind: the sudden, overwhelming softness enveloping half his face, the gentle pressure of her nipple (hardened slightly from the cool hospital air and the stretch) pressing through cotton right against his lower lip. 


The heaviness of her breasts shifted with her breathing—rising, falling—each subtle movement brushing across his skin, warm and alive.



He woke instantly.
But he didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t open his eyes.



He stayed perfectly still—feeling every detail: the way her breasts yielded against his face, the faint heartbeat thudding through them, the heat radiating from her chest, the accidental drag of fabric as she stretched higher.

One more push upward—her body leaned further, pressing her breasts even more firmly onto him, the full weight now resting, molding, the nipple sliding slightly across his lip with the motion.



A quiet, involuntary breath escaped him—hot against the cotton.

Mirnaa felt the faint exhale on her skin through the blouse. She froze for a half-second—confused, then embarrassed—realizing how close she was, how much of her chest was pressed against his face.

“Ufff…” she whispered under her breath, cheeks flushing.


She gave one final stretch, fingers closing around the charger plug, yanking it free.


The moment she pulled back, her breasts lifted off his face—slowly, reluctantly, the soft flesh dragging one last time across his lips and cheek before breaking contact.
She stepped away quickly, flustered, tucking the charger into her bag without looking back.


Bharath’s eyes cracked open—just a sliver.


He watched her retreating figure—saree slightly askew, blouse still wrinkled from the pressure, the faint outline of her nipple visible for a second through the fabric before she adjusted it.


He smirked—slow, private, dangerous.
She hadn’t noticed.
But he had.


He knew exactly who she was.
The nurse from the hospital entrance—the one who’d asked “Sir… are you okay?” while he bled. She was the same women today wanted to get him treated he assumed from voices he heard when the phone comes minutes before.

And now he knew how soft she felt.
How heavy.
How warm.


Bharath lay back, eyes half-lidded, the smirk lingering.
The pain in his body was nothing compared to the new hunger stirring.


Mirnaa hurried out of the room— she had to catch her rest of the team—completely unaware that the man she had just mistaken for a monster had just tasted her innocence by accident.


And he wasn’t going to forget it.

[jiivawonderland]

Chapter 43: Mirna's Accidental tease



In that stretch, her breasts—full, heavy from the day, cradled in the soft cotton of her blouse—came forward and gently, unintentionally, crushed against Bharath’s face.


The weight settled first—warm, pillowy softness pressing directly over his cheek and mouth through the thin fabric. The curve of one breast molded perfectly against his lips, the other resting across his nose and closed eyes. 


His body registered it before his mind: the sudden, overwhelming softness enveloping half his face, the gentle pressure of her nipple (hardened slightly from the cool hospital air and the stretch) pressing through cotton right against his lower lip. 


The heaviness of her breasts shifted with her breathing—rising, falling—each subtle movement brushing across his skin, warm and alive.



Mirnaa felt the faint exhale on her skin through the blouse. She froze for a half-second—confused, then embarrassed—realizing how close she was, how much of her chest was pressed against his face.

“Ufff…” 

They are yet to meet and get introduced properly to each other . But even before that Mirna and Bharath looks spicy together in this

HOT HOT HOT... SUPERB UPDATE   

[heygiwriter]

They are yet to meet and get introduced properly to each other . But even before that Mirna and Bharath looks spicy together in this

HOT HOT HOT... SUPERB UPDATE   

Thanks

[Muralimm]

Well written script man superb writing

Vikram is transforming, story plot has gripped now

Its really like a well action crime thriller