Adultery Love Sex And War Part 1 : Age Of Darkness

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                             (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT FATEFUL DAY!


Soon the day arrived , it was a Wednesday. Things were all happy and vibrant in the house at morning as everyone went to their respective works. Sonarika by afternoon , got the courage to finally do it. She didn't speak to Vikram since Jabalpur , never called Meghna. She had to do it. He deserves the truth. This thought kept going in her mind. 

Eventually she picked her phone and dialled Hemant. Hemant picked it up in the second ring itself.

"Hey Sona , is everything okay?"

"Its all fine , I was wondering whether you're free for the day"

"Uhh yeah sure"

"Then why don't we go somewhere , just us"

"Sure but where?"

Sonarika thought for a few seconds. And her mind could only think one place, one place that held significance. The very place Hemant took her for their first date. At the Gateway of India.

"At the Gateway?"

"OHHHH....Interesting....cannot wait"

"See you there"

As she ended the call. She noticed the excitement in Hemant's voice when he heard the Gateway. Sonarika was overwhelmed with emotions for few seconds knowing that she will be walking into an eye of a storm , a storm that is going to wreck her life in unimaginable ways. But there was a strong will in her ,  a will to do something right with him this time. She fixed herself and made her journey to that place which will hold witness to the most important moment of her life.

SOME TIME LATER.......AT THE GATEWAY OF INDIA

The sea breeze was unusually soft that afternoon, brushing gently against the stone walls of the Gateway of India, where Hemant stood waiting. The historical monument stood tall, watching over the lapping waters and distant ferries, but Hemant’s eyes were fixed on the path leading from the road. He saw her. Sonarika. Still radiant, still the woman he had fallen in love with over a decade ago. She smiled faintly as she approached.

"You’re early" she said softly, adjusting the scarf around her neck.

Hemant smiled. 

"Old habits die hard. You know I can’t ever be late for you"

They both chuckled lightly, a nostalgic warmth passing between them. It felt, for a moment, like nothing had changed. They both smiled faintly. It wasn’t the first time they had come here. It was the first place they had met, and now, by a cruel twist of irony, they were here again—under vastly different skies.

She looked around. 

"Still smells of salt and city noise. You remember? I had lost my phone, and you helped me fight that cabbie"

"You were yelling in English. He didn’t understand a word" Hemant chuckled. 

"I had to translate your rage"

"That’s when I called you my ‘angry saviour.’" Her smile faded slightly. 

"You always saved me, Hemant. Even from myself"

He looked at her then—really looked. Something was fragile in her smile. Fleeting. He pushed the thought away.

"How’s YOD Industries doing?" she asked, turning back to face him. 

"Saw your company's banner in King's Circle last week"

"Its a steady progress. Recently completed the deal with Mehtas. Didn't I tell you?"

"No" she said, surprised. 

"That’s amazing. You’ve built it with your bare hands, Hemant. I’m proud" Sonarika meant it.

"And you never stopped working with diamonds. TANISHQ still devouring your soul?"

"Its easy going for now. Got some new clients and they are still trying to milk my dedication"

"How’s Karan? Did he have any issues with his yesterday's homework?"

"He’s seven, Hemant. He says “math is evil” and keeps asking Anju for help"

"He’s got his mother’s attitude" Hemant laughs.

"And your stubbornness" Sonarika joins his laughter with her own.

"Anjali’s still floating in a trance since her excellent results of her exams last week"

"She deserves it. She’s worked so hard"

But Hemant sense something was off. Sonarika never beat around the bush in her conversations like this. Hemant decided to cut to the chase.

"But that’s not what you brought me here to talk about, is it? You're stalling"

She looks at him, startled. Her eyes flicker with fear, shame. She sighed deeply and stepped back slightly, as if creating a little space between them would cushion the blow.

"I know , I just......I just don't know where to start"

"Speak like you normally speak , no need for theatrics Sona"

"There’s no easy way to say this, Hemant" She began, voice low and uncertain.

Hemant now started to show concern , wondering what is bothering her.

"Is everything okay in TANISHQ?" Hemant asked.

"Everything is fine"

"Is Anju ok?"

"Nothing's wrong in the family Hemant....its just....."

"Then tell me Sona.....what's bothering you"

Sonarika maintained the gap between them. And then with a deep breath she confessed.

"I've lied to you Hemant.....I've been lying to you for some time!" 

Hemant realized at that moment that this was definitely something serious. He has never seen Sonarika appear this nervous.

"I just want you to know....that despite everything.....I am saying not because of just honesty....but also to show that I still love and care for you and I don't want you to be kept in the dark"

Hemant was getting a bit disturbed now.

"Okay Sona , you're scaring me now. What's wrong?"

"I want you to listen it all Hemant. I want you to hear everything. Then I am willing to face whatever punishment you deem fit"

Hemant felt an uneasy feeling. He stood there as Sonarika said.

"Do you remember Vikram Bajaj?"

Hemant definitely remembers him from that party where he first met Kunal and Mouni and seeing Vikram

"Yeah , I've met him at your party where we first met Kunal. Plus he was there on TANISHQ's founders day function"

Sonarika's face darkened as she remembered those days.

"I will be honest with you Hemant.....I really wished I never met that man in my life"

That uneasy feeling was building inside Hemant as he awaited what Sonarika had to say.

"When I first met him he was just a mild mannered kind hearted businessman. But eventually our occasional meetings ended up with us having light hearted conversations outside work...He was a good man , always keeping manners and chivalry at front....and then after being with Mouni's friend circle....we ended up being good friends outside work....but everything changed at that Manali trip.....when we went to that hill station and.....in that rain....when we were caught up in the moment.....he kissed me.....I was shocked and devastated.....he apologized then and there saying I reminded him of his own love he has lost long ago....."

Hemant literally went pale. He had a feeling what she was going to confess. Heartbreak was not the first time that happened to him , but he wished , he seriously wished that Sonarika would end her confession there. That this whole confession was only about an accidental kiss between her and Vikram. But she continued and that is when his heart started to sink.

"I don't know what it was.....maybe it was his energy....or a strange connection.....I still believe it was the unexpected distance between us......and Vikram.....he was getting in my head.....and I......I was getting tempted......then on his hotel's inauguration night. Everything changed......he was like a magnet.......And I...I....I was lost in his charms....he engulfed me when I was in my most vulnerable.....and....I succumbed to it"

Tears were forming in Hemant's eyes as he wished Sonarika didn't say what he thought she was going to say. He wished she doesn't say it. But fate had other plans as Sonarika finally confessed.

"I slept with him Hemant.....and.....I've been sleeping with him ever since......I even broke it off when things got personal.....but the recent trip to Jabalpur.....it ended up rekindling what we had......I had chosen us over him....for our family......I was finally happy with my family.....with you.....but this guilt...this pain.....its been eating me alive Hemant......every day I slept beside you knowing that I've committed the worst kind of betrayal a woman could........your honest unconditional love doesn't deserve a betrayer like me......Vikram ruined me Hemant.....he claims he brought out my true side but I know the deep dark truth.......he ruined me and brought me back to the same pit you picked me from......I am willing to accept whatever punishment you want to give Hemant....I have betrayed us.....our beautiful family......I don't deserve a wonderful man like you......but despite all this I can still say that I love--"

As Sonarika turned to complete the sentence , she stopped abruptly. Because she could not fathom the sight before her. Hemant , her Hemant , was no longer standing there with his vibrant smile. Instead he was standing there , tears falling continously from his eyes , broken , shambled to pieces. 

He was crying , her Hemant was crying , crying from the immense pain that has just been caused by her. She watched her perfect husband break apart in front of her , his trust , his faith , his dreams , his love , most importantly his love shattering to smitherines. Sonarika couldn't help but be overhwhelmed by her own emotions as she knew this would happen , she predicted it. But now she was witnessing it , she was watching her husband's heartbreak before her own eyes.

Silence fell between them. Even the bustling crowds around the monument felt muffled now. She was crying quietly. Hemant’s tears began to flow freely. He didn’t say a word. She stepped closer, sobbing. 

"I’m telling you this because I want to be clean. To own what I did. And take whatever punishment you choose. Even if it means you never want to see me again"

He stared at her. A decade of love, laughter, trust—and betrayal—all flashing before his eyes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came. The pain was too large for language.
His body began to shake, lips quivering. She reached out to hold his hand. 

"Hemant, please—say something"

He slowly pulled his hand away. Not violently. Just… finally. Then he turned around, eyes still pouring, and began to walk.

"HEMANT!" 

She screamed behind him, her voice breaking, drawing the attention of a few tourists nearby. He didn’t look back. Just walked, slower. Each step sounded like a goodbye. She ran a few steps after him, but then stopped. Her knees gave in. She dropped to the stone pavement near the railing, holding her face, sobbing uncontrollably.

Hemant climbed into his SUV, still crying. Still broken.

As he drove off, merging with the Mumbai traffic, Sonarika felt something snap inside her. The car disappeared from view, but in her heart, she knew—Hemant hadn’t just driven away from the Gateway. He had driven away from her. And as her tears fell, her world collapsed, piece by piece, in front of hundreds of strangers and the sea that once bore witness to their love.

Hemant’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, his knuckles pale against the leather. The SUV glided through Colaba Causeway, past vendors and rickshaws, but he saw none of it. His ears still echoed with her voice.

"I slept with him Hemant.....and.....I've been sleeping with him ever since"


A sound escaped him—half grunt, half sob. He hated himself for it. His throat was raw. Eyes swollen. The ache in his chest radiated like a wound that kept tearing every time he blinked.

He had cried before. Many losses in his life , his breakup with Sanjana , loosing a friend in the battlefield , Kira breaking his heart , loosing Ashnoor , loosing the Rustom family. But never like this. Never because the foundation of his world had been pulled out from under him.

He pulled into an empty alley near Marine Lines and killed the engine. And for the first time in hours, silence surrounded him. But inside? Inside was war.

Ten years.



Of breakfasts made with sleepy smiles. Of holidays planned with Karan’s scribbled drawings. Of Sunday mornings tangled in bedsheets and laughter.



Gone. Rewritten. Poisoned.


Hemant leaned forward, forehead resting against the steering wheel. He remembered Manali. She had sent photos—selfies with friends, shots of snow. And he had smiled like a fool, thinking, God, she looks happy.

Was there more? Was she in love with him? The betrayal didn’t just sting—it dismantled. And worst of all was Karan. What would he tell their son? That his mother had loved another man? That his father walked away like a coward? But Hemant wasn’t a coward. He just couldn’t breathe around her anymore.

Everything about Sonarika—her perfume, her laughter, her fingers brushing his hand at dinner—now burned with betrayal. He hated her. He missed her. He hated that he missed her.

"Why?" he whispered, wiping his face. 

"What was my mistake Sona…"

And yet, deep down, he still saw her crying on the steps of the Gateway—her silhouette blurred by regret. He could still feel her hand reaching out. He hadn’t held it. Not this time.

Sonarika sat on the cold marble floor of her living room, knees drawn to her chest. The pain hadn’t stopped. It had followed her home like guilt—unshakable, unrelenting. She hadn’t changed out of her dress. The fabric clung to her like punishment. The moment Hemant walked away at the Gateway replayed in a torturous loop. His face—broken. His silence—deafening. He didn’t even curse her. She almost wished he had.

The house was too quiet. Karan was with her sister Anjali for the day, and for once, she was grateful. She couldn’t let her son see her like this—falling apart. She walked into their bedroom. Their bed was still made, pillows neatly fluffed the way Hemant liked them. She reached out and touched his side of the mattress. Still faintly warm.

She collapsed onto it, burying her face in his pillow. His scent lingered—woodsy, crisp. She broke into sobs that rattled her bones.

“I’m sorry, Hemant… I’m so sorry…”

She had prepared for anger. For screaming. For accusations. She hadn’t prepared for silence. His walking away spoke louder than any outburst. And now she faced what came next.

She walked to her closet and pulled out a small wooden box. Letters. Mementos. Anniversary cards. The ticket stub from their first movie. A dried rose from their honeymoon in the Kerala backwaters.

All of it now lay on the floor.

Sonarika knew now that consequences weren’t always punishments. Sometimes, they were just the echo of absence. And in that echo, she would live—alone, accountable, and grieving for the life she broke with her own hands.


HOURS LATER IN THE EVENING


The sky had long dimmed to a dusky charcoal by the time Sonarika stood by the balcony of their home, her eyes wondering about the time , Hemant should be home by now. Her heart thudded beneath a chest wrapped in guilt and dread. She hadn’t changed out of her dress from earlier, the same one she wore when she confessed to Hemant at the Gateway of India — a place that was once an important part of their love story, now turned into the site of emotional devastation. 

"I broke him" she whispered to herself, gripping the curtain tightly. 

"God, what have I done…" 

She could still see the image in her mind — Hemant turning away from her, his shoulders trembling, his hand covering his face, the weight of her betrayal making him stagger like a wounded man.

Inside the dining room, Anjali was clearing up after dinner, while little Karan sat on the couch playing with his toy truck, unaware of the emotional chasm tearing through his mother. 

"Didi" Anjali asked as she returned from the kitchen. 

"Bhaiya didn’t even call? It’s so late" Sonarika quickly masked her grief with a rehearsed smile. 

"No, he messaged earlier. Something came up at the factory. A machine failure or something" 

She lied. The words left her mouth like shards of glass. She turned away before her sister could see the tears welling up. She hadn’t told Anjali. She hadn’t told Karan. How could she? How does one tell their child that their mother shattered their father’s heart?

As night deepened and the silence grew heavier, Sonarika found herself standing before the altar in their bedroom — the one where Hemant used to draw curtains every morning to wake her. She pressed her palms together and bowed her head, praying feverishly. Please bring him home… let him be safe. Let me undo this, if that's even possible. Just don't let him be harmed... 

Her throat burned from holding back sobs all day. Regret had taken root in her bones. The affair with Vikram, once a secret temptation, now felt like a curse she had willingly embraced and unleashed upon her family. 

"He didn’t deserve this" she murmured. 

"He was the best person any woman could have" 

She imagined him wandering the streets, grief-stricken, maybe even drinking — and her mind spiraled into darker fears. What if he never comes back? Just as she was about to collapse onto the floor, the phone rang — loud and shrill, slicing through the silence. She lunged for it, heart pounding. 

"Hello?" she gasped.

"Are you Mrs. Hemant Kumar?" a calm but urgent voice asked from the other end.

"Yes, this is…"

"You need to come to Sanjeevani Hospital. Your husband has suffered a stroke"

The phone nearly slipped from her hand. Her world tilted. 

"What— what did you say?" 

She stammered, but the voice had already begun giving her directions. Her mind went blank. Everything she had feared was now real. She turned, wide-eyed, toward Anjali, who noticed her paling face.

"Didi? What happened?"

Sonarika's lips trembled, but no words came out. She could only grab her purse and keys, her legs already moving. 
All she could think was Please… don’t take him away from me… Not like this…

THAT AFTERNOON IN SHANGHAI CHINA

The humid stillness of the afternoon in Shuangqiao Nancun shattered with the staccato rattle of automatic gunfire. Ricky Tan, the iron-fisted proprietor of The Golden Yang hotel and a feared red pole of the Sun On Yee Triad, was reviewing security ledgers in his office when the chaos erupted outside. Cries of panic and shattering glass echoed from the market street below. He peered through the heavy dbangs of his office window, heart steady but eyes narrowing in focus, and saw sheer pandemonium. Civilians fled in every direction, stalls overturned, smoke curling into the air. Marching through the smoke were masked young men, their strides calm and methodical, rifles in hand and katanas glinting on their backs. These weren’t mere thugs. This was an execution squad.

Without hesitation, Ricky barked commands into his encrypted comms unit, ordering his guards to lockdown the hotel. Muscle-bound enforcers in black suits surged into the lobbies and corridors, drawing pistols, but they were no match for what was coming. The assailants moved with surgical precision. Gunfire tore through the ornate entrance as bullets chewed into marble columns and decorative lanterns. Screams of hotel staff and foreign guests filled the air as blood stained the luxury carpets. One by one, Ricky’s men were gunned down, some trying to shield guests, others caught mid-counterattack. The invaders pressed on relentlessly, showing no distinction between the guilty and the innocent. It was not a raid — it was a massacre.

The heart of The Golden Yang, once the jewel of Ricky's empire, had become a slaughterhouse. Amid shattered glass and the scent of gunpowder, the assailants finally breached Ricky’s private suite on the top floor. Leading them was a man with cold eyes and a scar that traced his jaw like a mark of fate. Lai Tong — the younger brother of Tong, the infamous torture specialist executed years ago under mysterious orders. Ricky stood defiant, the last man alive, blood spattered across his white shirt. Lai raised his katana slowly, his voice steady as he asked. 

"Any last words?" Ricky simply smiled, fearless to the end. 

"I know my end when I see it. But don’t worry. Whatever you do to me now, Michael will do to you far, far worse" 

The name hit Lai like a slap. He hissed. 

"I will avenge my brother" Ricky’s final taunt sliced deeper than any blade 

"Do not worry, you will see your brother… when you meet Michael"

The katana whistled through the air and met its mark with brutal finality. Ricky’s head rolled across the blood-slicked marble, his body slumping forward with eerie grace. Silence fell over the ruined suite for a beat — then Lai turned, chest heaving, fury still unquenched. He crossed to Ricky’s blood-stained desk, scanning documents and surveillance photos hastily strewn during the attack. One photo arrested his attention: a candid image of a man in a black coat, in London. Hemant — also known in the shadows as Michael King, the man whispered to have a legacy of destruction and fear in the past and the person responsible for Tong’s death. Lai’s jaw clenched as he recognized the face. With a savage growl, he plunged his katana through the image. Ricky’s blood, still fresh on the blade, seeped into the paper, turning Hemant’s face crimson.

Outside, Shuangqiao Nancun was a smoldering war zone. Emergency sirens wailed in the distance, too late to matter. The Golden Yang was no longer a symbol of Triad power but a monument to vengeance. Civilians whispered the name Lai Tong with dread, a ghost reborn in blood. And far away, across oceans and borders, a storm was brewing — for the man in the photo had felt the ripple. 

Michael King would come. And when he did, vengeance would meet judgment in a final reckoning that would bring down empires.


                                                                                                                                                                                                       END OF CHAPTER 19