Adultery Love Sex And War Part 1 : Age Of Darkness

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                  CHAPTER 21

The morning sun filtered into the apartment, casting golden light over the walls. Birds chirped outside, and the hum of traffic rose faintly from the streets of Mumbai. It was the kind of day that once brought comfort to Sonarika, but now the sunlight only mocked the darkness inside her heart.


Hemant sat at the dining table with Karan, patiently helping him untangle a puzzle cube before college. 

"You almost had it" he said, his deep voice gentle. 

"Remember—it’s about patterns, not speed" 

Karan grinned, soaking up his father’s encouragement.

Anjali walked through with her textbooks, hair tied up in a messy bun. 

"Bhaiya, you promised to quiz me on anatomy later" she reminded him.

He smiled faintly. 

"I didn’t forget. Tonight, after dinner" 

His presence still anchored the household, and to Karan and Anjali, he was the same affectionate Hemant.

Only Sonarika knew the truth—that once dinner was over, Hemant would slip away again to YOD Industries, telling Karan he had “night shifts.” In reality, he slept in his private office room, unable to share a bed with her after the betrayal she confessed weeks ago.

That morning, however, something felt different. He had lingered longer than usual after the children left for college. The silence that followed their departure stretched heavy, and Sonarika’s heart thudded with an intuition she couldn’t ignore.

Hemant finally turned toward her. His face was calm, not harsh, but his eyes carried the weight of sleepless nights. 

"Sonarika" he said quietly. 

"We need to talk"

She froze where she stood, clutching the edge of the counter. For days she had dreaded these words, yet hoped for them too. 

"Now?" she asked, her voice faltering.

"Now" he confirmed. 

They moved to the sofa, the same space where years of memories lingered—Karan learning to walk, late-night movies, whispered confessions of dreams. Today, it became the place where a marriage was put on trial. Hemant’s voice broke the silence. 

"Why did you need him?" 

His tone was not cruel, but it cut her deeper than any accusation could. His eyes didn’t waver.

Sonarika’s lips trembled. For a moment she wanted to deny it, to take back her words at the Gateway of India, to make the betrayal vanish. But lies would be meaningless now. 

"Because I felt alone, Hemant. Even when you were here… I felt invisible"

His brows furrowed. 

"Invisible? I was right here. With you. With Karan. With Anju" 

His voice carried more confusion than anger, as though trying to piece together a puzzle with missing parts.

"No, Hemant" she said, her voice breaking as tears blurred her vision. 

"You were always chasing tomorrow. Always promising me a future, always saying, ‘One day we’ll have everything, one day it’ll all fall in place.’ But while you were building that dream, my present was empty. I needed you then, not someday"

Her chest heaved as the words poured out. 

"And Vikram… he was there. He saw me, in that moment. He didn’t talk about tomorrow. He made me feel alive then. That’s why I succumbed. Not because I stopped loving you, but because I couldn’t keep living in promises while my present slipped away"

Hemant sat still, the sunlight outlining his weary face. For a moment, his silence was crushing. Then, quietly, he said. 

"And yet you came back to me. Why?"

"Because you changed" she whispered. 

"You rebuilt yourself, found your fire again. You became the man I had fallen for. I thought we could begin again"

He gave a faint, bitter smile. 

"But you went back to him"

Her tears spilled freely now. 

"Yes. Because I was torn. With Vikram, there was poetry, dance, nights that made me feel wild. With you, there was safety, tenderness, love. I wanted both. And it destroyed us"

Hemant leaned back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

"So to escape the weight of promises, you made one you could never take back"

"Do you know the cruelest part?" she asked, her voice trembling. 

"It was only at the divorce lawyer’s office that I learned the truth. That while I was accusing you of chasing tomorrows in my mind, you had already built it. You revealed the truth about the Villa. The dream house we always talked about. The future I thought was only words was right at the doorstep all along. And I—" 

She broke down, covering her face. 

"I betrayed the man who loved me beyond time"

For a moment, Hemant’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Hemant thought of the Silver Beach villa. He had walked its empty halls in the initial renovation phase that started weeks ago with hope, picturing family breakfasts, birthday parties, laughter echoing in its rooms. Now it stood waiting, a hollow monument to a future that would never be. A family laughter that might never come.

He finally asked, his voice low. 

"Do you still love him?"

She froze, her body trembling. 

"I don’t know" she admitted. 

"I don’t know what I feel for him anymore. But I know I’ve wounded you deeper than anyone else ever could"

Hemant rose slowly, his frame carrying the weight of years compressed into moments. He walked toward the door, each step heavy with decision.

Panic surged in her chest. 

"Don’t you have anything to say?" she cried. 

"Don’t you hate me? Don’t you want to scream? Please, Hemant, say something!"

He turned, his eyes meeting hers one last time. 

"No. Because the woman I loved is gone. What stands before me is someone else—a woman who chose another man when her husband was fighting for their future. And it’s best we eventually go our separate ways"

With that, Hemant stepped into the brightness of the morning, leaving Sonarika collapsed on the sofa, the warmth of the sun unable to soothe the cold despair now consuming her.


FEW HOURS LATER


The factory floor of YOD Industries buzzed with the rhythm of machines, the clang of steel, and the hum of engines. Hemant walked among his workers, clipboard in hand, pretending to take notes. To them, he was their founder, their leader, the man who had built something from nothing. But beneath that mask, his mind was elsewhere. He paused at a workstation where young engineers calibrated one of his Alignment Knots. 

"Good. Keep the tolerances tight" he said absently. 


The engineers nodded eagerly, unaware that their boss’s voice was hollow, his eyes glassy. Work was supposed to distract him. That was why he had buried himself here, sleeping in his private office instead of the apartment. Yet, every gear turning, every spark of welding seemed to ignite memories he wanted to bury.



He leaned against a railing, watching a machine press steel into shape. Suddenly, the sound of hissing steam transformed into the echo of clinking glasses. The workshop dissolved in his mind, replaced by music, laughter, and glittering chandeliers. He was back at the TANISHQ party years ago, the night he first saw Vikram Bajaj. The millionaire had walked into the hall with that effortless confidence, drawing eyes like a flame draws moths. Hemant had thought nothing of it then.


He remembered standing by the buffet, filling his plate, while Sonarika and Vikram spoke across the room. At the time, it was polite conversation, just business. Now, in his mind, it shifted, warped. He saw her laughing too freely at Vikram’s words, leaning closer, brushing her hair back. Then suddenly—she wasn’t just talking. She was kissing him. Their lips locked hungrily, hands roaming as if they had waited a lifetime for this moment.


Hemant’s heart pounded as the hallucination intensified. He saw Sonarika pressed against a wall, Vikram’s hand cupping her face, her body arching into him. Gasps and moans drowned out the music as passion took hold. In the hallucination, they didn’t care about the party anymore. They were lost in each other, moving with a desperate hunger until her cries rose, sharp and unrestrained. Hemant staggered, his knuckles white against the railing, feeling every betrayal as though it were happening before his eyes.

 
"Sir? Are you alright?" A worker’s voice brought him back for a moment.


Hemant blinked, but the hallucination’s grip was too strong. He muttered a vague reply and walked off, his chest tight, breath shallow. The factory floor blurred again. This time, music swelled—not party music, but the rhythmic beat of drums. Lights illuminated a stage. Hemant blinked and found himself at TANISHQ’s Founder’s Day. He remembered that night too well. Sonarika and Vikram had been called to perform a special dance. He had smiled, clapping politely, even prideful at her talent. The crowd cheered, whistles filling the air. Meghna’s grin had been wide, too wide.



But in his mind’s replay, the dance turned carnal. Their bodies pressed too close, movements no longer choreographed but primal. Sonarika’s eyes burned with desire as Vikram spun her, pulled her in, and kissed her deeply under the stage lights. The crowd didn’t recoil—they roared. The applause turned into chants. 


"More! More!" 


Meghna clapped furiously, her laughter sharp and cruel, her eyes darting at Hemant. The hallucination intensified. Clothes loosened, hands wandered. On that very stage where employees once cheered, Sonarika moaned into Vikram’s ear, surrendering as though the audience wasn’t even there. Hemant’s fists clenched as the stage scene warped into a nightmare. Meghna stepped forward, smirking, whispering directly into his ear though she was yards away. 


"Look at her, Hemant. She’s free. She’s alive. She never belonged in your dull, miserable arms"


He tried to look away, but his eyes refused. Sonarika and Vikram were lost in the throes of passion, movements frantic, breathless, culminating in cries of release. The audience clapped wildly, Meghna’s laugh rising above it all. She leaned in, her voice mocking and venomous. 


"Move on, Hemant. You’re alone now. She’s happy where she belongs—with him. Not with you"


The mocking laughter grew louder, echoing, rising to a crescendo that shook his very bones. Hemant clutched his head, staggering as the scene reached its climax—cheers, moans, laughter swirling in a cacophony of betrayal.


"Sir?" A worker’s hand touched his arm. 


"Sir, are you okay? You’re sweating…"


Hemant blinked hard, the hallucination snapping apart like glass shattering. The stage, the crowd, Meghna’s mocking face—all gone. He was back on the factory floor, the whir of machines in his ears, his workers staring at him in confusion.

"I’m fine" 

He muttered, waving them off, though his voice cracked. He forced his legs to move, each step heavier than the last, until he reached the stairs to his office. Inside his private room, he shut the door, leaning against it, his breath ragged. His reflection in the glass pane showed sweat on his brow, his eyes hollow.

Finally, he let go. His fists slammed against the desk. A guttural cry escaped him, torn from somewhere deep, somewhere wounded beyond repair. He sank into his chair, head in his hands, the hum of the factory muffled behind the door. The visions still lingered at the edge of his mind, taunting him. And in that solitude, Hemant finally admitted what he had avoided for days—the woman he had loved unconditionally was gone, and nothing he built, no matter how grand, could bring her back.


The afternoon sun poured through the glass walls of YOD Industries, streaking the concrete floors. Hemant sat in his office chair, the echoes of his hallucinations still gnawing at him. He rubbed his temples, exhausted, when a knock came at the door.

"Come in" he muttered, his voice low.

The door opened, and Kunal stepped inside. Dressed in a tailored grey suit, his presence carried the poise of a businessman—but his eyes were warm with concern. 

"Hemant" he greeted softly. 

"I came straight from the airport. I heard you weren’t yourself these past days"

Hemant stood slowly, managing a faint smile. 

"Kolkata, wasn’t it? Big project?"

Kunal nodded. Hemant gestured for him to sit. The two men faced each other, silence stretching before Hemant finally let out the words he had carried like lead in his chest. 

"Sonarika has been having an affair"

"What?" Kunal’s eyes widened. 

"With Vikram Bajaj" Hemant continued, his tone steady but hollow. 

"She told me herself. At the Gateway. I thought I knew what betrayal felt like… but I had no idea until that moment. It shook me. Broke me"

Kunal leaned forward, his face heavy with guilt. 

"Hemant, no… I should’ve stopped this. I should’ve kept Mouni away. You know how she talks, how she poisons the air around Sonarika. Maybe she pushed her into this. If I had—"

"Stop" Hemant said firmly, raising a hand. His eyes softened. 

"Don’t blame yourself, Kunal. If anything, your friendship is one of the only good things left in my life. Don’t taint it with guilt"

"But—" Kunal swallowed hard. 

"No" Hemant interrupted gently. 

"This was me. My failure. I was never true to myself. I promised Sonarika futures, but I left her present barren. That’s on me, not you, not Mouni. Not anyone else"

Kunal’s gaze searched him. 

"Hemant… you’ve always been a good man. Strong. Kind. I don’t believe you’ve failed her"

Hemant leaned back in his chair, a bitter chuckle escaping him. 

"Good man? Kunal, there’s something you don’t know. Something I’ve hidden from everyone, including you. But maybe… maybe it’s time you learned the truth about me"

"What are you saying?" Kunal frowned. 

Hemant stood, walking slowly to the window. He looked out at the busy factory floor, the men and women working tirelessly on his designs. His reflection in the glass seemed foreign to him.

Hemant looked away, his jaw tightening as though fighting an old war within himself. 

"If I tell you… it will change everything you think you know about me"

"Then tell me" Kunal said firmly. 

"Whatever it is, I want to know. You’ve carried me through storms when I was drowning in shame. Let me share your burden"

Silence fell. Hemant stared at the floor, then at the wall clock ticking. 

"It will take time" he murmured. 

"And you’ll wish you hadn’t asked"

"Then I’ll sit here until I hear it" Kunal leaned back, resolute. 

Two hours later, the office was dim with the fading sun. Kunal sat slumped in the chair, his face pale and damp with sweat. His eyes were wide, glassy with disbelief. He looked as though the weight of a thousand worlds had been dropped on him. Hemant sat across from him, silent, his expression calm yet tired. He had finally spoken truths buried for decades—truths that would never escape this room again.

Kunal ran a trembling hand through his hair. 

"Michael King…" he whispered, almost afraid to say the name aloud. 

"All these mayhem , all this violence....and you....you endured it?"

He laughed bitterly, the sound almost hysterical. 

"London, Shanghai, the States… the whole world thinks Michael King is dead. And here you are, changed from the pain and trauma , trying to find a different reason in life to live ,  living as a husband, a father, a friend. Building something real"

His laughter died into silence. Tears rimmed his eyes as he leaned forward. 

"The pain you told me, the loss you carried… I can’t even imagine how you bore it. No man should’ve had to"

Hemant’s voice was steady but soft. 

"That’s why I buried Michael King, Kunal. I chose to become my real self Hemant Kumar , make a name to my own biological identity. To build YOD. To raise my son. To love Sonarika. I thought I’d escaped Michael King. But destiny…” 

He trailed off, looking down at his hands. 

"Destiny sometimes can be a dirty game"

Kunal swallowed hard, his throat dry. 

"Hemant… tell me what I can do. Please. I owe you my life—you helped me when my marriage fell into disgrace, when everyone mocked me for what I allowed with Mouni. You pulled me out of that abyss. Tell me how I can return even a fraction of what you gave me"

Hemant gave a small, broken smile. 

"Be here. That’s all I’ll ask of you. Because soon, I’ll be more alone than I’ve ever been. And when that happens… I’ll need someone who remembers I was once more than Michael King. I was Hemant. A husband. A father. A friend"

Kunal’s chest tightened as he looked at the man across from him. 

"You’ll never be alone as long as I’m breathing" he swore. 

"If you fall, I’ll stand beside you. Always"

Hemant’s eyes glistened faintly, though no tears fell. He nodded, his voice soft but resolute. 

"Then that will be enough, Kunal. That will be enough"

He embraced Kunal knowing that there will be someone that will be close to him. Hemant eventually asks one last thing.

"But I need your word. More than that I need a promise"

"Whatever you need Hemant.....whatever you need"

"Then promise me Kunal.....promise me that no matter what happens.......you will never tell my truth to Sonarika........never...."

"But why Hemant? She needs to know this. She can truly understand you with this"

"No Kunal , I don't need her to. She has a new man in her life , let her make her choice and live on. I should never be part of her world anymore"

"Then what about Karan? Are you going to abandon him too?"

"Never , its never about abandonement Kunal. Sonarika loves someone else , and my truth will only hurt her further. She is already overwhelmed with the separation. I know it , I've seen her many times in recent days crying for what she has lost. I don't want her to burden her further , if Vikram can give her the happiness she needs. Then that is what she deserves"


The words seemed to pierce Hemant, but he didn’t flinch. He simply nodded. 

"Yes. I still love my Sona. And I always will. But love… love has only been suffering for me. Every time I’ve given my heart, I’ve only found loss waiting at the end. Sonarika is no different. I’ve accepted it now— I don't think there is a place for me in her heart anymore"

The room felt heavy, as though the walls themselves were listening. Kunal swallowed hard, his own heart aching. Hemant continued, his voice softening. 

"My faith in love… it’s broken, Kunal. I won’t go searching for it again. Not in this lifetime. The only love I still hold… is for Karan, my son. For Anjali, my sister in law who will always be my sister in heart. And for my friends. For you.”

Kunal’s chest tightened. He had seen Hemant as a pillar, a man who bore storms without flinching. To hear this quiet surrender broke something inside him. He stood, walked to Hemant, and without hesitation embraced him tightly. 

"Don’t lose hope brother" he whispered. 

His voice trembled. 

"The universe has strange ways. One day… one day it will give you true happiness. And when that moment comes, you will finally be at peace"

Hemant closed his eyes in the embrace, allowing himself for the first time in days to lean on someone else’s strength. His arms wrapped around Kunal with the weight of a man carrying years of buried sorrow.

"Thank you" he whispered back. 

"I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But today… having you here makes it bearable"


They hugged again, stronger this time, the embrace less of comfort and more of brotherhood—an unspoken vow between two men scarred by love and life, yet unwilling to let each other fall. The sun outside had dipped lower, golden light spilling into the office. In its glow, the two friends stood as though time itself had paused, two lives bound by pain, trust, and a fragile thread of hope that someday, somewhere, peace might come.



THAT NIGHT


The house was unnervingly quiet that night. Karan had fallen asleep early after a day of play, his small snores drifting down the hallway. Anjali too slept after a lengthy Viva Hemant conducted on her on the subject of Anatomy , a promise he fullfilled. Hemant was gone to his factory for his sleep. But Sonarika lay on their bed—no, her bed now—staring at the ceiling in the dim yellow light of the bedside lamp. Every shadow seemed to stretch longer, as if the walls themselves were pulling away from her. She couldn't help but think about him , a man who was her beacon was no longer present near her at her most vulnerable. She couldn't do anything but sink into the mattress and let the hours bleed into each other.


On the nightstand sat the wedding photo—its glass reflecting the light in such a way that the younger Hemant’s smile almost looked like a cruel reminder. She picked it up, tracing the curve of his jaw in the picture with a trembling finger. The lawyer's office meeting replayed in her mind over and over. The coldness in his voice. The way he wouldn’t even look at her when he spoke of the divorce. And then… the gut-wrenching revelation about the Silver Beach villa.


Her body curled inward as a sob forced its way up her throat. She pressed the photo to her chest, as if holding it could hold back the truth. 

"You loved me so much" she whispered into the darkness. 

"And I destroyed it"


The memories began to spill—long drives to Lonavala and Matheran on certain weekends, him waking her with coffee on Sundays, his laugh when Karan took his first steps. Even the silly fights about what movie to watch now felt precious, like fragments of a world she had shattered with her own hands. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. For a moment, she thought—hoped—it was Hemant. But the screen lit up with Vikram’s name. Her chest tightened with something between deeper feelings and regret. She silenced the call and turned the phone face down.


She realized, bitterly, that she didn’t want to talk to Vikram at this moment. Not now. Not after seeing what Hemant had been planning for their family. What he had been willing to give, and give up, for her. Her eyes landed on the wardrobe. She knew inside were still the clothes Hemant had bought her over the years—saris in colors he loved, the black dress he said made her look 'dangerous' 


She remembered the way his eyes used to light up when she wore them. She got up, almost in a trance, and pulled the black dress from its hanger. She held it against herself in the mirror, but it only made her feel emptier. She didn’t see the woman Hemant loved in the reflection—she saw someone else entirely. Someone who had traded devotion for momentary thrill.


Dropping the dress onto the bed, she sat on the floor and hugged her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her chest ached, not just from grief, but from the dawning realization that she couldn’t undo what had been done. Her mind wandered to the cooling period the lawyer mentioned. Ten months. Ten months to rethink. Ten months to hope. But then she remembered Hemant’s eyes when he said, Get used to this new norm. That didn’t sound like a man waiting to be convinced.


She thought of Karan, and the shared custody agreement. The idea of not seeing him every day, of him packing a bag to go stay with his father—it felt like someone had taken a knife to her soul. The weight of guilt pressed so hard she could barely breathe. She whispered into the silence. 

"I’m sorry… I’m so sorry" as if the walls, the ceiling, the photo frame could carry her words to him.


But deep down, she knew that sorry wasn’t enough. Hemant had loved her fiercely, and she had shown him that his love wasn’t safe with her. She had proven his faith in her wrong. Her body shook with another wave of sobs. She curled onto the bed, clutching the black dress in one hand and the wedding photo in the other, her tears soaking into both.


The villa kept coming back into her mind—she could almost see it, hear the ocean outside its walls, imagine Karan running through the rooms. And then it twisted into a darker vision: Hemant there, alone, living in the dream they once shared but with no place for her in it. She wondered if Vikram could ever give her something like that. The answer came instantly, on paper—yes.After all he is a millionaire , if he wants , he will build a palace for her , like he used to say , treat her like a queen. And now in that moment , no visions of Bali or Jabalpur dared to step in her mind. Because more than the feeling of being loved and cherished in her life , right now her mind was filled with the certainty of all the things she will loose. Yes , she has some strange feelings for Vikram , especially after the closeness they had , but it didn't hold a candle to what she felt for Hemant right now at the moment. Vikram knew her. Because he didn’t know her the way Hemant did. Because he hadn’t built a life with her from scratch.


That was the moment Sonarika remembered what Hemant said. He could not see his Sona. And he was right , Sonarika was not the same woman , not anymore. Vikram and the insane passion she felt changed her , awakened something in her , something Hemant never saw. She had become bold , passionate , something that was part of her life not so long ago. But she fixed herself with a little help from Hemant to forge something new , better and much more different. Hemant built her to the confident woman she was until now. Because Hemant's words , it looked at her like the real truth. That Sona , the hardworking , focused , committed Sona was lost in the throes and chasm of passion she jumped in with Vikram. Now a more dependant , passionate but a more submissive version of herself. A version Rocky absolutely loved had came out of her. Sonarika acknowledged the truth now seen before her.


She thought of calling Hemant, of telling him she didn’t want the divorce, that she’d do anything to fix it. But another thought stopped her: maybe she didn’t deserve to fix it. Outside, the wind rattled the balcony door, and for a brief moment, she could almost hear Hemant’s voice telling her to close it before things in the room fall. She closed her eyes, letting herself pretend it was real.


When she opened them, the emptiness of the room struck her again. This was her reality now—nights without him, mornings without his quiet 

"Good morning, Sona"


She finally lay down, curling toward his empty side of the bed, the sheets still faintly carrying his scent. She breathed it in like a lifeline, afraid it would fade before the cooling period even ended. The tears slowed, but the heaviness didn’t lift. It settled in her bones, in her heartbeat, in the silence between breaths. She knew sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. Her last thought before drifting into a restless half-dream was simple and devastating: she had taken her great love and traded it for nothing.


In the darkness, the photo on the nightstand caught a sliver of moonlight. The couple in it smiled, frozen in a moment where forever still felt possible. But in the bed below, only one of them remained—awake, broken, and unsure if she’d ever feel whole again.


THE NEXT MORNING



The morning light crept reluctantly through the curtains. Sonarika hadn’t truly slept—just drifted in and out of shallow dreams that always ended the same way: Hemant walking away from her. Her head ached from the night’s tears, and her eyes felt heavy, swollen. She considered staying in bed all morning, but the faint thud-thud of little feet in the hallway pulled her back to reality.


Karan appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up at odd angles, still in his dinosaur pajamas. 

"Mumma" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Are you making breakfast?"

She forced a smile, one she hoped didn’t look as brittle as it felt. 

"Of course, sweetheart. Give me five minutes"


Down in the kitchen, she moved mechanically—spreading butter on toast, pouring milk into a glass. Karan sat at the table, swinging his legs, humming a tune from one of his cartoons.


"Did Papa not come yet?" he asked suddenly, breaking the rhythm of the clinking utensils.

The question made her hand pause mid-air. She swallowed, forcing her voice steady. 

"Papa has extra work today baby....he will be here a little late"

Karan frowned. 

"But it’s Saturday. He always squashes my favorite juice on Saturday.”


She felt the sting of tears threatening again. 

"He’ll do it next time" she said softly, pushing the toast toward him. 

"Eat up before it gets cold"


But her son wasn’t convinced. 

"Mama… did you and Papa fight?" 

His tone was hesitant, careful, the way children test the waters when they know something is wrong but can’t name it. She crouched beside him, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. 

"No, baby. We just… need some space right now. Grown-up stuff"


"Space?" he echoed, confusion clouding his small face. 

"Like when I go to my room and you tell me to think about what I did?"

Her lips trembled into a sad smile. 

"Something like that"

He stared at her a moment longer, then whispered. 

"I don’t like space. I like it when we’re all together"


The words landed like a knife. She hugged him tightly, burying her face in his hair so he wouldn’t see her tears. 

"Me too, baby. Me too"


They stayed like that for a long moment, the kitchen silent except for the hum of the refrigerator. When she finally let go, she ruffled his hair and tried to inject some cheer into her voice. 

"How about we go to the park after breakfast? Just you and me"

He brightened instantly. 

"Can we get ice cream after?"

"Absolutely" 

She said, grateful for the distraction, even if her heart still felt like it was splintering in slow motion.


As Karan ate, she leaned against the counter, watching him. For a moment, she let herself imagine the villa at Silver Beach—the three of them having breakfast there, Karan’s laughter mixing with the sound of waves outside. But the image dissolved quickly, replaced by the memory of Hemant’s cold expression in the lawyer’s office.

Karan looked up from his plate. 

"Mama?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"When Papa comes home… can we all go to the beach?"

She managed to nod, even though deep down she feared the day would never come. 

"We’ll see, baby" she whispered. 

"We’ll see"


Some time later , as Anjali arrived in the kitchen freshened up. She noticed the paleness in Sonarika.

"Didi , are you okay"

"I am fine Anju" Sonarika said trying to mask her sorrow.

"You don't look okay"

"Trust me , I am fine"


The phone buzzed for the sixth time since the morning. Sonarika sat curled on the sofa, her face pressed into the cushion, eyes raw from hours of tears last night. She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to speak to anyone—not even him. But when the screen lit up with Vikram’s name once more, something in her broke. She slid her thumb across the screen.

"Soni…" Vikram’s voice came through immediately, trembling with urgency. 

"Thank God. I thought I lost you. I called and called—why didn’t you pick up?"

Her throat tightened at the sound of his worry. 

"I… I couldn’t. I was grieving. I’m still grieving. I am in deep pain Vicky. Everything is slipping away from me"

"That’s exactly why I needed to hear your voice" he pressed gently. 

"You don’t have to go through this alone. Let me be there for you. Please, Soni… can we meet now?"

Silence stretched for a moment. Her heart warred with itself. Finally, she whispered, 

"Skyview Garden. In half hour from now"

                                                                                                                                   (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)