06-08-2025, 12:05 AM
(CHAPTER CONTD)
TWO WEEKS LATER
Hemant adjusted the cuffs of his steel-gray blazer as he stepped into the open patio of Emerald Palace, a breeze from the helipad gently ruffling his hair. The city skyline shimmered in the afternoon sun, but nothing glimmered more than the legacy of the Mehta family, whose empire stood tall behind him. The last time he’d come here, he was nothing more than a sharp but struggling employee, tagging along with Pranitha Mehta. Now, he was the founder of YOD Industries — the man behind the revolutionary Alignment Knots — and had just successfully completed a flawless deal with Simon Nadar, a shell holder of REGAL CORP. This time, he wasn’t here as a guest’s guest. He was here on Simon’s invitation, with a reputation of his own.
Hansraj Mehta, the patriarch of the empire, sat on a sun-lounged chair by the edge of the patio, sipping tea with the calmness of a man who had seen fortunes rise and fall. As Hemant approached, Hansraj stood up with a grace that belied his age.
"Hemant" he said, offering his hand with a slight smile.
"You’ve outdone yourself. I hear Simon can’t stop singing praises."
Hemant bowed his head respectfully.
"Your words mean a lot, sir. I’ve tried to live up to the trust people like Simon and—"
His pause was intentional
"—Pranitha once placed in me."
Hansraj chuckled softly and waved him over to sit.
"I think you're just getting started. Siddharth was impressed with your approach — not many can impress him that way and to some extent your business practice reminds me of my old days"
The compliment struck deeper than Hansraj knew. The last time Hemant met Siddharth Mehta, the meeting had ended in awkward silence and a humiliation. But today, he was being acknowledged by the man who mattered the most. The two talked business lightly — trends, logistics, expansions — before Hansraj's phone buzzed. After glancing at the screen, he stood up.
"Business calls, Hemant. But I’ll be watching your journey. Closely."
As the tycoon walked off, Hemant exhaled with a sense of quiet triumph. He had turned his reputation around in the very place where he once felt small.
Just then, laughter echoed from behind. Rony — all tanned skin and confidence — strutted into the patio wearing nothing but shorts and an air of vanity. His model-esque physique seemed perfectly sculpted for attention.
"Hemant!" Rony beamed and pulled Hemant into a friendly hug.
"You’re making waves, man!"
Hemant smiled politely, his eyes flicking to Rony, whose smirk was smug and knowing.
"Rony" Hemant said stiffly.
Rony stretched like a cat and winked
"Didn’t expect to see you here. Heard you're making quiet some name in the celebrity wing!"
"Am I?"
"Indeed. You really think a Manish Malhotra photoshoot will go unnoticed. I am definitely picking up the first edition when it arrives to pull your leg"
"Well good luck finding me. I'll be lost in one page in that whole magazine filled with Mrunal Thakur"
Before Hemant could continue, she walked in — Pranitha. The white shorts hugged her hips, the unbuttoned linen shirt casually framing the black sports bra beneath. Her hair was tied in a loose bun, damp from what looked like a recent workout. Hemant’s breath caught involuntarily, and he looked — just a second too long.
"Hemant" Pranitha called out, loud enough for all to hear.
"You do realize your eyes are still on me, right?"
Hemant coughed and looked away instantly, heat creeping up his neck.
"Don’t flatter yourself" he said, but his voice was low.
"Old habits, I guess" She raised an eyebrow, grinning.
"Your loss gentleman. You shouldn't have married early" Pranitha teased him.
Rony laughed first, Simon joined in next.
"Come on, Hemant, don’t go shy on us" Rony teased.
"You’re famous now, aren’t you? Little harmless staring never hurt anyone"
Hemant tried to smile it off, but there was a stiffness to his body.
"Sorry if that was inappropriate" he said, looking at Pranitha.
But she didn’t miss a beat.
"It’s okay" she said coolly.
"Matter of fact you're just the best example for a man that cannot be perfect. Despite all the good things , there are some things that are off about you. Judging me, leering, and then pretending you’re above it all"
Her voice wasn’t angry — it was worse. Detached. She turned slightly toward Rony and added,
"Anyway, some people are actually capable of seeing me as a human, not a spectacle"
Hemant stood awkwardly, his mind spiraling between anger, regret, and confusion. He wanted to speak, to tell her he hadn’t meant to look that way, to remind her of their silent falling out some time ago — the verbal argument in the phone where he’d accused her of getting close to Rony again.
But the words didn’t come. Rony, meanwhile, had gone oddly quiet, his eyes flicking between Hemant and Pranitha as if something about her sudden flirtatiousness unsettled even him. They began walking away, her hand grazing Rony’s arm in a way that made Hemant’s stomach churn. Pranitha looked back at Hemant with a glare that could burn him. Hemant only gave an assuring smile hoping that this smile tells her mind that he is sorry.
"Let’s not stay here" Simon said gently, clapping Hemant on the back.
"Let’s hit our favorite bar, yeah? I want to celebrate your success properly"
Hemant nodded, still watching Pranitha’s retreating figure. The glamour of Emerald Palace, the weight of its gold-and-glass halls, suddenly felt heavy. He came here with a quiet mission — to be recognized, to stand tall. And he had. But he also realized that even in triumph, there were wounds that fame couldn’t heal — and as his mind was converged with thoughts of his hidden motives and agendas. He had only one regret , to not have that friendly bond with Pranitha anymore.
SOMEDAYS LATER IN MUMBAI
The sunlit glass panels of the studio bathed the space in a soft golden hue as Hemant stepped inside, adjusting the cuff of his designer sherwani. The grand set was already buzzing with crew members, photographers, stylists, and assistants dashing across the room. He was early, as always. Nervous energy fluttered in his chest—this was far from a boardroom or a product launch, and the idea of posing for a fashion magazine made him feel distinctly out of his element. But he had promised Manish Malhotra, and a promise to Manish was not something you broke lightly. He looked around the studio, noting the intricate floral arrangements and mirror-laden archways designed for the bridal theme. Then, he saw her—Mrunal Thakur—dbangd in a deep maroon lehenga, radiant and poised.
She noticed him almost instantly and gave a short wave, stepping away from the camera setup.
"Well, well… look who decided to dabble in modelling"
Mrunal said playfully, her eyes glinting with amusement as she approached.
Hemant laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I’m already regretting it. I feel like a well-dressed mannequin waiting to be shoved into a showcase"
She chuckled.
"You look good, Hemant. Relax. And besides, you’re not exactly unknown anymore. Your business is on fire. The Mehta tie-up, the market boom—everyone’s talking about you.”
Her tone was warm, not flattering—just real. Hemant smiled appreciatively.
"I’ve been lucky, really. Right place, right people. The Mehtas have been good to me. Pranitha especially"
As they moved closer to the camera setup, Mrunal leaned toward him slightly, her voice lowering conspiratorially.
"I also heard about your grand entrance at this year’s Malhotra party. Alone, confident, a certified star. And apparently getting all chummy with Ananya and Janhvi, hmm?"
Hemant raised an eyebrow, grinning.
"News travels fast. But for the record, neither of them tried to kiss me that night"
He paused for dramatic effect, then added slyly.
"Unlike someone I know"
Mrunal’s eyes widened before she let out a short gasp, smacking him lightly on the arm.
"Oh my God. You didn’t just say that!"
Immediately, Hemant held up both hands in mock surrender, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
"Okay, okay… first and last attempt at flirting, I promise"
Still smiling, Mrunal shook her head.
"That was a decent line. But don’t forget you’re married, Mr. Flirt"
"Please don’t tell my wife" Hemant said with exaggerated fear.
"She’ll kill me. In designer couture, no less"
Mrunal laughed, her voice echoing softly in the high-ceilinged studio.
"I won’t. But maybe you should sharpen your flirting skills—for her. Who knows, maybe soon we’ll be hearing about a sibling for little Karan"
Hemant’s face softened at the mention of his son, and a genuine smile spread across his face.
"That… doesn’t sound like the worst idea"
The photoshoot continued seamlessly after that—Mrunal dazzling in every frame, Hemant gradually relaxing into his poses. When it was finally a wrap, they changed out of their costumes and met once more by the exit, both looking fresh-faced and lighter than when the day began. Mrunal extended her hand.
"Good luck with the YOD expansion. I’ll be watching"
"And good luck with the film awards season" Hemant said, taking her hand with a smile.
"Don’t throw up on anyone else"
She laughed again, shaking her head.
"Only if they’re giggolos"
They parted with an easy smile and a casual wave. Two lives moving in different orbits, briefly intersecting under bridal lights and camera flashes—leaving behind a moment that neither would soon forget.
MEANWHILE AT TANISHQ
Sonarika wore her favorite cream saree and walked into the TANISHQ office, greeted her colleagues, and smiled at clients like nothing was amiss. But every moment alone behind her desk, her thoughts would drift to Jabalpur—Vikram’s voice, his hands, their nights. Stop it, she told herself. But the guilt pressed on her chest like a stone, heavier each day. Hemant had called her two times that afternoon—once to ask if she wanted fish for dinner as he will be home early, and once just to say.
"I miss you" That last one made her cry silently in the washroom for fifteen minutes.
That night she had a hard time sleeping. The weight of her secret had begun to fracture her sleep. She woke up in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling fan, its slow rotation mocking her indecision. Hemant was beside her, snoring lightly, his arm slipping across her waist out of habit. She froze, wondering what he would do if he knew where that body had been some time ago ago. That night, she sat up at 3 a.m., lit a candle on the windowsill, and whispered to herself.
"He deserves the truth"
One day brought a moment of quiet desperation. Meghna was out of the city for some work commitments so Sonarika had that relief in her life right now. But right now she felt Meghna was the least of her worries, she was more dredding as each day passed and she needed to find the time to tell him. At the lunch table in the office, her colleague Pragya spoke of infidelity in a distant friend’s marriage.
"You know, it’s not just about the act" Pragya said thoughtfully,
"It’s about betraying someone’s blind faith in you"
The words hit Sonarika like a slap. She barely touched her food. That evening at home, she watched Hemant make Karan's science model.
"You always show up" she said to him out of nowhere.
He looked up, puzzled.
"Where else would I be?" he asked, smiling.
You don’t know, she thought. You have no idea who I’ve become.
The Sunday that came was quiet. They went out to a bookstore, then a cafe. Karan insisted on sitting between his parents. Hemant kept brushing his hand against hers, smiling warmly. She held his hand back, tighter than usual.
"I need to tell you something" she said once, softly, as they walked to the car.
He turned to her, curious. But then Karan called out from behind and the moment passed. Sonarika looked up at the sky. There were no stars that night. Only clouds.
That evening at the beach. The sea was louder, or maybe her thoughts were. She stood alone on the shore while the others laughed behind her. She knew what she had to do. Not because she wanted redemption. But because Hemant deserved truth. Because a marriage without truth is a slow death. She looked back at him—smiling, patient, his arm around Karan. She had betrayed that smile. But soon, she would tell him. Not for forgiveness. But for freedom—from this guilt, from this aching deceit.Very soon, the healing, or the end, would begin.
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
Hemant adjusted the cuffs of his steel-gray blazer as he stepped into the open patio of Emerald Palace, a breeze from the helipad gently ruffling his hair. The city skyline shimmered in the afternoon sun, but nothing glimmered more than the legacy of the Mehta family, whose empire stood tall behind him. The last time he’d come here, he was nothing more than a sharp but struggling employee, tagging along with Pranitha Mehta. Now, he was the founder of YOD Industries — the man behind the revolutionary Alignment Knots — and had just successfully completed a flawless deal with Simon Nadar, a shell holder of REGAL CORP. This time, he wasn’t here as a guest’s guest. He was here on Simon’s invitation, with a reputation of his own.
Hansraj Mehta, the patriarch of the empire, sat on a sun-lounged chair by the edge of the patio, sipping tea with the calmness of a man who had seen fortunes rise and fall. As Hemant approached, Hansraj stood up with a grace that belied his age.
"Hemant" he said, offering his hand with a slight smile.
"You’ve outdone yourself. I hear Simon can’t stop singing praises."
Hemant bowed his head respectfully.
"Your words mean a lot, sir. I’ve tried to live up to the trust people like Simon and—"
His pause was intentional
"—Pranitha once placed in me."
Hansraj chuckled softly and waved him over to sit.
"I think you're just getting started. Siddharth was impressed with your approach — not many can impress him that way and to some extent your business practice reminds me of my old days"
The compliment struck deeper than Hansraj knew. The last time Hemant met Siddharth Mehta, the meeting had ended in awkward silence and a humiliation. But today, he was being acknowledged by the man who mattered the most. The two talked business lightly — trends, logistics, expansions — before Hansraj's phone buzzed. After glancing at the screen, he stood up.
"Business calls, Hemant. But I’ll be watching your journey. Closely."
As the tycoon walked off, Hemant exhaled with a sense of quiet triumph. He had turned his reputation around in the very place where he once felt small.
Just then, laughter echoed from behind. Rony — all tanned skin and confidence — strutted into the patio wearing nothing but shorts and an air of vanity. His model-esque physique seemed perfectly sculpted for attention.
"Hemant!" Rony beamed and pulled Hemant into a friendly hug.
"You’re making waves, man!"
Hemant smiled politely, his eyes flicking to Rony, whose smirk was smug and knowing.
"Rony" Hemant said stiffly.
Rony stretched like a cat and winked
"Didn’t expect to see you here. Heard you're making quiet some name in the celebrity wing!"
"Am I?"
"Indeed. You really think a Manish Malhotra photoshoot will go unnoticed. I am definitely picking up the first edition when it arrives to pull your leg"
"Well good luck finding me. I'll be lost in one page in that whole magazine filled with Mrunal Thakur"
Before Hemant could continue, she walked in — Pranitha. The white shorts hugged her hips, the unbuttoned linen shirt casually framing the black sports bra beneath. Her hair was tied in a loose bun, damp from what looked like a recent workout. Hemant’s breath caught involuntarily, and he looked — just a second too long.
"Hemant" Pranitha called out, loud enough for all to hear.
"You do realize your eyes are still on me, right?"
Hemant coughed and looked away instantly, heat creeping up his neck.
"Don’t flatter yourself" he said, but his voice was low.
"Old habits, I guess" She raised an eyebrow, grinning.
"Your loss gentleman. You shouldn't have married early" Pranitha teased him.
Rony laughed first, Simon joined in next.
"Come on, Hemant, don’t go shy on us" Rony teased.
"You’re famous now, aren’t you? Little harmless staring never hurt anyone"
Hemant tried to smile it off, but there was a stiffness to his body.
"Sorry if that was inappropriate" he said, looking at Pranitha.
But she didn’t miss a beat.
"It’s okay" she said coolly.
"Matter of fact you're just the best example for a man that cannot be perfect. Despite all the good things , there are some things that are off about you. Judging me, leering, and then pretending you’re above it all"
Her voice wasn’t angry — it was worse. Detached. She turned slightly toward Rony and added,
"Anyway, some people are actually capable of seeing me as a human, not a spectacle"
Hemant stood awkwardly, his mind spiraling between anger, regret, and confusion. He wanted to speak, to tell her he hadn’t meant to look that way, to remind her of their silent falling out some time ago — the verbal argument in the phone where he’d accused her of getting close to Rony again.
But the words didn’t come. Rony, meanwhile, had gone oddly quiet, his eyes flicking between Hemant and Pranitha as if something about her sudden flirtatiousness unsettled even him. They began walking away, her hand grazing Rony’s arm in a way that made Hemant’s stomach churn. Pranitha looked back at Hemant with a glare that could burn him. Hemant only gave an assuring smile hoping that this smile tells her mind that he is sorry.
"Let’s not stay here" Simon said gently, clapping Hemant on the back.
"Let’s hit our favorite bar, yeah? I want to celebrate your success properly"
Hemant nodded, still watching Pranitha’s retreating figure. The glamour of Emerald Palace, the weight of its gold-and-glass halls, suddenly felt heavy. He came here with a quiet mission — to be recognized, to stand tall. And he had. But he also realized that even in triumph, there were wounds that fame couldn’t heal — and as his mind was converged with thoughts of his hidden motives and agendas. He had only one regret , to not have that friendly bond with Pranitha anymore.
SOMEDAYS LATER IN MUMBAI
The sunlit glass panels of the studio bathed the space in a soft golden hue as Hemant stepped inside, adjusting the cuff of his designer sherwani. The grand set was already buzzing with crew members, photographers, stylists, and assistants dashing across the room. He was early, as always. Nervous energy fluttered in his chest—this was far from a boardroom or a product launch, and the idea of posing for a fashion magazine made him feel distinctly out of his element. But he had promised Manish Malhotra, and a promise to Manish was not something you broke lightly. He looked around the studio, noting the intricate floral arrangements and mirror-laden archways designed for the bridal theme. Then, he saw her—Mrunal Thakur—dbangd in a deep maroon lehenga, radiant and poised.
She noticed him almost instantly and gave a short wave, stepping away from the camera setup.
"Well, well… look who decided to dabble in modelling"
Mrunal said playfully, her eyes glinting with amusement as she approached.
Hemant laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I’m already regretting it. I feel like a well-dressed mannequin waiting to be shoved into a showcase"
She chuckled.
"You look good, Hemant. Relax. And besides, you’re not exactly unknown anymore. Your business is on fire. The Mehta tie-up, the market boom—everyone’s talking about you.”
Her tone was warm, not flattering—just real. Hemant smiled appreciatively.
"I’ve been lucky, really. Right place, right people. The Mehtas have been good to me. Pranitha especially"
As they moved closer to the camera setup, Mrunal leaned toward him slightly, her voice lowering conspiratorially.
"I also heard about your grand entrance at this year’s Malhotra party. Alone, confident, a certified star. And apparently getting all chummy with Ananya and Janhvi, hmm?"
Hemant raised an eyebrow, grinning.
"News travels fast. But for the record, neither of them tried to kiss me that night"
He paused for dramatic effect, then added slyly.
"Unlike someone I know"
Mrunal’s eyes widened before she let out a short gasp, smacking him lightly on the arm.
"Oh my God. You didn’t just say that!"
Immediately, Hemant held up both hands in mock surrender, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
"Okay, okay… first and last attempt at flirting, I promise"
Still smiling, Mrunal shook her head.
"That was a decent line. But don’t forget you’re married, Mr. Flirt"
"Please don’t tell my wife" Hemant said with exaggerated fear.
"She’ll kill me. In designer couture, no less"
Mrunal laughed, her voice echoing softly in the high-ceilinged studio.
"I won’t. But maybe you should sharpen your flirting skills—for her. Who knows, maybe soon we’ll be hearing about a sibling for little Karan"
Hemant’s face softened at the mention of his son, and a genuine smile spread across his face.
"That… doesn’t sound like the worst idea"
The photoshoot continued seamlessly after that—Mrunal dazzling in every frame, Hemant gradually relaxing into his poses. When it was finally a wrap, they changed out of their costumes and met once more by the exit, both looking fresh-faced and lighter than when the day began. Mrunal extended her hand.
"Good luck with the YOD expansion. I’ll be watching"
"And good luck with the film awards season" Hemant said, taking her hand with a smile.
"Don’t throw up on anyone else"
She laughed again, shaking her head.
"Only if they’re giggolos"
They parted with an easy smile and a casual wave. Two lives moving in different orbits, briefly intersecting under bridal lights and camera flashes—leaving behind a moment that neither would soon forget.
MEANWHILE AT TANISHQ
Sonarika wore her favorite cream saree and walked into the TANISHQ office, greeted her colleagues, and smiled at clients like nothing was amiss. But every moment alone behind her desk, her thoughts would drift to Jabalpur—Vikram’s voice, his hands, their nights. Stop it, she told herself. But the guilt pressed on her chest like a stone, heavier each day. Hemant had called her two times that afternoon—once to ask if she wanted fish for dinner as he will be home early, and once just to say.
"I miss you" That last one made her cry silently in the washroom for fifteen minutes.
That night she had a hard time sleeping. The weight of her secret had begun to fracture her sleep. She woke up in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling fan, its slow rotation mocking her indecision. Hemant was beside her, snoring lightly, his arm slipping across her waist out of habit. She froze, wondering what he would do if he knew where that body had been some time ago ago. That night, she sat up at 3 a.m., lit a candle on the windowsill, and whispered to herself.
"He deserves the truth"
One day brought a moment of quiet desperation. Meghna was out of the city for some work commitments so Sonarika had that relief in her life right now. But right now she felt Meghna was the least of her worries, she was more dredding as each day passed and she needed to find the time to tell him. At the lunch table in the office, her colleague Pragya spoke of infidelity in a distant friend’s marriage.
"You know, it’s not just about the act" Pragya said thoughtfully,
"It’s about betraying someone’s blind faith in you"
The words hit Sonarika like a slap. She barely touched her food. That evening at home, she watched Hemant make Karan's science model.
"You always show up" she said to him out of nowhere.
He looked up, puzzled.
"Where else would I be?" he asked, smiling.
You don’t know, she thought. You have no idea who I’ve become.
The Sunday that came was quiet. They went out to a bookstore, then a cafe. Karan insisted on sitting between his parents. Hemant kept brushing his hand against hers, smiling warmly. She held his hand back, tighter than usual.
"I need to tell you something" she said once, softly, as they walked to the car.
He turned to her, curious. But then Karan called out from behind and the moment passed. Sonarika looked up at the sky. There were no stars that night. Only clouds.
That evening at the beach. The sea was louder, or maybe her thoughts were. She stood alone on the shore while the others laughed behind her. She knew what she had to do. Not because she wanted redemption. But because Hemant deserved truth. Because a marriage without truth is a slow death. She looked back at him—smiling, patient, his arm around Karan. She had betrayed that smile. But soon, she would tell him. Not for forgiveness. But for freedom—from this guilt, from this aching deceit.Very soon, the healing, or the end, would begin.
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
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