Adultery Love Sex And War Part 1 : Age Of Darkness

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                             (CHAPTER CONTD)

SOMETIME LATER AT SKYVIEW GARDEN


When Sonarika arrived there, the garden was quiet, the air thick with dew and the faint fragrance of blooming marigolds. Vikram was already waiting near a stone bench beneath a gulmohar tree. His eyes widened as soon as he saw her. Sonarika’s face was swollen, her lids puffy, lips trembling. She didn’t even attempt to hide the wreck she had become. The moment she reached him, she collapsed into his arms, and her body shook violently as sobs poured out of her.

Vikram held her tightly, stroking her hair, letting her weep against his chest. 

"Shhh… let it out. I’ve got you. I’m here"

She clung to him as if he were her last tether, her tears soaking his shirt. For a long time, neither spoke—only the sound of her muffled cries filled the quiet garden. Finally, when her sobs softened to uneven breaths, Vikram pulled back slightly, cupping her face. 

"What happened? Tell me"

Sonarika bit her lip so hard it almost bled. Then the words spilled out in a rush. 

"I told him. Hemant. Everything. About us. About what I’ve done"

Vikram froze. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing in disbelief. 

"You… told him?" His voice was both shocked and pained. 

"Soni, that was reckless. I told you. I told you the reaction could be severe"

Her eyes welled again. 

"I know! But I couldn’t keep living a lie. He deserved the truth. And now… now it’s all shattered"

She dropped her gaze to the ground, her fingers twisting into knots. 

"He couldn’t handle it Vicky. He suffered a stroke. Do you understand? My truth broke him"

Vikram’s hands tightened on her shoulders, his voice heavy with a mix of anger and compassion. 

"My God… Soni. That could have killed him. You should have waited. Planned this out. But…" 

He stopped himself, exhaling slowly, softening. 

"But I know why you did it. You couldn’t bear the guilt anymore"

She nodded, tears streaking her face. 

"And now… he’s filed for divorce. Out of court settlement. Just like that, Vikram. My family… it’ll never be the same again"

Vikram pulled her back into his arms, pressing her against his chest. 

"Listen to me. This was inevitable. If not now, then later. You couldn’t keep living with half your heart in one world and the other half in another. It had to break. At least now… you can begin again"

Sonarika shook her head desperately. 

"You don’t understand. My family—Hemant, Karan, our home—it was my place of peace. And now it’s gone. I feel like part of me is dying"

He stroked her back slowly, soothing. 

"Then let me help rebuild you. You can start a new family. With me. I can give you peace too, Sonarika. Maybe a different kind, but no less real"

Her eyes lifted to his, glistening with pain. 

"I am still struggling with the feelings I have for you Vicky , I am still trying to understand it. But right now… it feels so inappropriate. Hemant is leaving me, and that part of my heart is breaking. How can I talk about new beginnings when I’m standing over the ashes of my old life?"

"Because you’re not standing alone" Vikram whispered. He brushed away her tears with his thumb. 

"And about Karan—don’t think for a second I’d ever come between you two. He’s your son. I’d protect that bond with everything I have. I’d safeguard it for you"

Her lips trembled as she stared at him, searching his face. For the first time in days, she felt a thread of relief—a breath of safety in the storm. 

"You really mean that, don’t you?"

He nodded firmly. 

"With all that I am" 

Slowly, he lifted her chin, his eyes locked on hers. Then, tenderly, he kissed her. At first it was soft, almost hesitant, but the weight of their emotions deepened it quickly. It grew more passionate, raw, an outlet for everything left unsaid. But just as his hands tightened on her waist, Sonarika pulled back, shaking her head. 

"No. Not now. Please. I appreciate it, Vicky, I do… but intimacy isn’t what I need right now. My heart isn’t ready. Not like this"

Vikram’s eyes softened, his breath still ragged. He nodded, pressing his forehead to hers. 

"That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. When this storm settles, I’ll still be here. Maybe that’s what destiny wants for us—to survive this fire and begin anew"

Sonarika closed her eyes, leaning into his embrace once more. They sat quietly on that park bench, her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For the first time since her world had shattered, she allowed herself to breathe without breaking. For a long time, neither of them spoke. Sonarika sat pressed against Vikram’s chest, her hands limp in her lap, staring at the scattered petals on the ground. The stillness of the morning made her feel like she was caught between two worlds—one that had already ended and another she was too afraid to step into.

"Do you regret it?" Vikram finally asked, his voice quiet, careful. 

"Not telling him, but… us. Do you regret me?"

Sonarika’s head jerked up slightly, her swollen eyes flashing with hurt. 

"Don’t say that. Don’t diminish what we have. It was never a mistake. You…" 

She trailed off, breath trembling. 

"You woke something in me, Vicky. Something that had been buried for years. You reminded me I was alive"

Vikram’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. He cupped her cheek again, tracing her jawline with his thumb. 

"That’s all I needed to hear. Because I swear, Sonarika, no matter how heavy this gets, I’ll carry it with you"

She lowered her gaze, torn. 

"But how do I carry myself? Hemant was my anchor, my compass. Even when he was distant, even when I felt neglected, he was… safe. He was my home. And now that home is burning to the ground, I don’t know where to stand"

Vikram shifted closer, their knees brushing. 

"Then stand here. With me. Let me be your ground. It won’t erase the pain, but it’ll give you somewhere to rest"

Sonarika bit back another sob. 

"You make it sound so simple, but it isn’t. My heart doesn’t work like that. Part of it will always love him. And that part is broken beyond repair now. Do you understand what that feels like? To feel for two people in such different ways, and lose one forever?"

Vikram nodded slowly, his eyes searching hers. 

"I do. And maybe that’s why I’m not asking you to erase him. I’m asking you to allow yourself to keep living despite the break. Even broken hearts can still beat, Soni. I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to"

The words lodged deep in her chest, making her shiver. She pulled back slightly, staring at him with a raw vulnerability. 

"Why are you so patient with me? Why not walk away? Most men would"

Vikram gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. 

"Because I already tried walking away, remember? Tried keeping my distance. And it damn near killed me. I can’t unlove you, Sonarika. Even if it means waiting through your grief, even if it means accepting that part of you still belongs to him—I’ll take whatever you give me"

Her tears threatened again, but this time she fought them back, studying him intently. 

"You make it sound noble. But what if all I ever give you is half a heart? Would that really be enough for you?"

"If it’s yours" Vikram said firmly. 

"Then yes. Because half of your heart is still more than the whole world to me"

Sonarika let out a broken laugh, shaking her head. 

"You say things like that, and you make me want to believe in us. But then the guilt rises again. I see Karan’s face, I see Hemant’s eyes the moment I told him… and I feel like I destroyed everything good in my life"

Vikram leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against hers again. 

"No. You didn’t destroy yourself. You chose honesty, painful as it was. Hemant’s choices are his. Your love for Karan is untouched. And me? I’ll never stop seeing the good in you, no matter how much you try to bury it beneath guilt"

She closed her eyes tightly, her fingers curling into his sleeves. 

"Sometimes I wish I could just vanish. Stop existing in this chaos. Stop hurting everyone I love"

His arms tightened protectively around her. 

"Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare, Sonarika. You are not a burden. You are not poison. You are a woman who dared to seek something real, something alive. That doesn’t make you evil—it makes you human"

A long silence followed, her breathing ragged but slowly calming under his embrace. The weight of his words sank into her bones, easing some of the suffocating self-loathing. Finally, she whispered. 

"Do you ever wonder… if this is destiny? Or just us making selfish choices?"

Vikram exhaled slowly, brushing his lips against her temple. 

"Maybe both. Maybe destiny doesn’t write in straight lines. Maybe it bends, twists, forces us into choices that look selfish until we realize they were survival. Maybe you and I were meant to find each other in the ruins"

Sonarika tilted her head back slightly, her eyes catching his. 

"And if these ruins are all I have left? If tomorrow never gets better?"

Vikram smiled sadly but with quiet certainty. 

"Then we’ll build a life out of ruins. Together. Stone by stone. And even if it’s imperfect, even if it’s scarred, it’ll still be ours"

A shuddering breath escaped her lips, and for the first time since everything collapsed, Sonarika felt something stir faintly in her chest—hope. Fragile, trembling, but alive. She leaned into him again, resting her cheek against his shoulder. They sat like that as the morning light grew stronger, filtering through the gulmohar leaves above them. The world carried on around them—birds calling, gardeners sweeping pathways—but inside their shared silence, time seemed to pause. And in that pause, Sonarika allowed herself to imagine, just for a heartbeat, that maybe she wasn’t only losing—but also beginning again.



The minutes stretched into nearly an hour, and Sonarika felt the trembling in her body finally still. Vikram’s presence was steady, like a hand resting on broken glass—not fixing it, but holding it together long enough so it wouldn’t shatter further. She shifted slightly, drawing back, though her hands lingered on his arms as though afraid he might disappear if she let go. 

"I should go" she murmured, her voice weary. 

"Karan will wonder. I have plans with him for the day. I can’t stay here forever, no matter how much I want to"

Vikram gave a small nod, though his eyes betrayed the ache of wanting to keep her close. 

"I know. But before you go…" 

He glanced around and then leaned down, plucking a single gulmohar blossom that had fallen on the grass near them. Its petals were bright, fiery red, almost too vibrant against the weight of the moment.

He held it out to her, not in grand gesture but quietly, almost shyly. 

"Keep this. It won’t last long. It’ll wither in a day, maybe two. But maybe… it can remind you that even fragile things have beauty. Even fleeting moments can matter"

Sonarika’s eyes softened as she took the flower. Her thumb brushed the delicate petals, and for a moment, the corners of her mouth curved into the faintest smile. 

"You always know how to make something small feel like it means everything"

Vikram leaned back on his heels, studying her as if committing her to memory. 

"That’s because to me, you mean everything. Even when you’re breaking, even when you’re pushing me away"

She inhaled sharply, feeling the weight of his words sink into her chest. Part of her wanted to hush him, to remind him of the impossibility of their situation. But another part—the part that still longed for warmth in a cold, collapsing world—simply held the flower tighter. Rising slowly, she brushed the grass off her saree and extended her hand toward him. 

"Walk me to the gate?"

He rose with her, their hands brushing but not intertwining—both aware of the invisible line between comfort and intimacy she wasn’t ready to cross. Yet the silence between them felt thick, charged with everything unspoken. As they reached the edge of the garden, Sonarika slowed. She turned to him, eyes shimmering again but steadier than before. 

"Thank you, Vicky… for not letting me drown in this. For being patient, even when I don’t deserve it"

He tilted his head, his expression tender but resolute. 

"You don’t need to thank me. Just… don’t give up on yourself, Soni. Even if Hemant walks away, even if the world judges you—I’ll still be here, waiting on the other side"

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, she reached up impulsively and brushed her fingers against his cheek—a fleeting, delicate touch that spoke louder than any confession. Then she pulled back quickly, almost afraid of her own boldness. Vikram didn’t move to catch her, didn’t press for more. He only gave her a look of quiet promise, one that told her she wasn’t alone.

With the gulmohar bloom still clutched in her hand, Sonarika finally turned and walked toward the waiting cab at the street outside the park. Each step felt heavy, but there was also something new beneath the grief—a faint, almost imperceptible thread of hope pulling her forward. Vikram remained where he stood, watching until the car pulled away and vanished into the morning traffic. Only then did he exhale, running a hand through his hair, the taste of her sorrow and resilience lingering in his chest. He whispered to himself. 

"One day… she’ll come back not just broken, but whole. And when she does, I’ll be ready"


Back in the cab, Sonarika pressed the flower gently to her lips. For the first time in days, her tears didn’t fall from despair—but from the fragile possibility that maybe, just maybe, a future could be rebuilt, even out of ruins.


SOME TIME BACK AT YOD INDUSTRIES


While Sonarika sat in that quiet garden, Hemant was elsewhere—inside his cabin at YOD Industries, staring blankly at the window looking at the green and silent corner of the Mumbai port. The city seemed alive, buzzing with horns, laughter, and urgency, and it was far from here but loud enough to be audible making it a unique blend of silence and chaos, yet his heart beat in a void where sound barely reached.

His desk was littered with untouched paperwork, contracts, and proposals. Normally, he would have devoured them, analyzed every clause with surgical precision. Today, they were blurred shapes, irrelevant in the shadow of the fracture inside him.

Kunal had left him only an hour ago after another friendly talk. Their conversations yesterday of confessions, drinks, and silence still echoed in Hemant’s chest. He had revealed everything—Michael King, the empire, the blood-soaked legacy buried under a new name. And in Kunal’s exhausted silence afterward, Hemant had seen the reflection of his own truth: he was no longer just Hemant.

But even knowing that, even baring his darkest history, he felt no relief. Only the ache of Sonarika’s absence, and the cold finality of her love slipping away. He wished the anger in him would burn away his insecurities and it worked ,  but it couldn’t burn away the memories: her face as she told him about Vikram, her eyes filled with tears but steady with conviction.

"She doesn’t love me anymore" 

He whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud might dull the sting. 

"And she never will"

The words made something in him collapse, but at the same time, something else began to rise. If there was no love left to protect, no vows left to honor, then what bound him anymore? What shackled him to loyalty, to chastity, to sacrifice? He turned to the shelves behind him where framed photos of him and Sonarika once stood. He had already removed most of them, locking them away in a drawer. Only one remained—a family portrait with Karan smiling brightly between them. Hemant touched the frame, his thumb tracing over his son’s face.

"For you" he murmured softly. 

"I will still be a father. That doesn’t change" 

But when his eyes shifted to Sonarika’s image beside him, his voice hardened. 

"But for her… it’s over. Whatever part of me belonged to her is dead"

That realization didn’t heal him. It broke him further. Yet, paradoxically, it also freed him. Like a prisoner whose cell door had been unlocked—not by mercy, but by abandonment. Later that day, Simon dropped by—his newly trusted business colleague and confidant. They sat together in the newly constructed executive lounge of YOD, sipping dark liquor for Simon and coke for Hemant under dim lights. Simon cracked jokes, talked about new ventures, but even he could sense Hemant wasn’t the same.

"You’re colder" Simon finally said, studying him with a wary eye. 

"It’s like the warmth’s gone. What happened to you, Hemant?"

Hemant gave a dry, humorless chuckle. 

"The warmth was an illusion. It belonged to someone who thought love could save him. But love doesn’t save—it destroys"

Simon didn’t press further, but he nodded slowly, as if he has gone through some serious emotional turmoil. In that moment, he saw not Hemant, the ambitious businessman, but a shadow of someone else—something sinister. He believed Hemant was falling victim to the side effects of doing business with the Mehta's as he too is engulfing himself in this dark business.

Before the evening, Hemant let Kunal drag him out to their old haunt—an Irish pub tucked in the lanes of Colaba. The familiar clink of glasses, the sound of old rock ballads from the jukebox, and the warm oak scent of the bar filled him with a strange nostalgia. Here, he didn’t feel like a husband grieving betrayal. He felt like the man he once was—reckless, sharp, untethered. The amber drink in his hand tasted different in this space. It wasn’t drowning sorrow anymore; it was fuel.

A pair of women at the bar eyed him, their smiles flirtatious. Years ago, he would have politely ignored them, claiming his marriage, wearing his loyalty like armor. But at this moment, his gaze lingered back. Not with hunger, but with a dangerous kind of curiosity. He didn’t approach them. Not yet. But in his mind, a door had opened—one that had been locked shut for years by vows that no longer held weight.

As time passed, laughter circled their table, Kunal already tipsy, Simon deep in conversation with another patron. Hemant sat slightly apart, swirling his glass, watching the play of lights and shadows across the room. He realized he wasn’t obsessed with Sonarika anymore. But there was also a realization that Sonarika will forever be embedded to him. Now whether she stays a wound in his life or something less painful is something he has to figure out. The ache was still there, a wound raw and bleeding—but it wasn’t pulling him back. Instead, it was pushing him forward, shoving him into the arms of a world he had once known too well. 

A world of glamour, danger, temptation, and freedom. A world where Michael King thrived.

He thought of Tamanna briefly—her long-ago crush on him, her innocent admiration. He thought of Pranitha too—the kiss she gave him in the hospital, unspoken affection in her eyes. And then of all the faces he had brushed past in Bollywood’s glittering corridors, women who once looked at him with curiosity, respect, and maybe something more. Before, he had shielded himself from them, built walls around his chastity because Sonarika was his anchor. But the anchor was gone, cut loose, sinking into another man’s ocean. He was adrift now, free—or cursed—to float where the currents took him.


His phone buzzed with a new message. Another invite—this time to a Bollywood afterparty hosted by a well-known producer. Normally, he would decline. Tonight, his finger hovered over the yes. He wasn’t seeking love. He no longer believed in it. But escape? Distraction? A night where pain could be drowned in neon lights, laughter, and perhaps someone else’s arms? That, he could consider.


And as the night folded into the promise of tomorrow, Hemant finally admitted something to himself he had long resisted: his life no longer revolved around Sonarika.


THAT EVENING


Karan enthusiastically asked Hemant for a trip to the beach. Hemant was reluctant but he didn't want Karan to be disappointed with this. The drive was quiet, filled mostly with Karan’s chatter about what he wanted to do first. Hemant’s hands stayed fixed on the steering wheel, his gaze unwavering on the road. Sonarika stole glances at him, her heart aching at the wall between them.


At Juhu Beach, Karan darted off the moment his feet touched the sand, running toward the waves, laughing as the salty wind whipped at his hair. Hemant followed slowly, hands in his pockets, his figure tall and restrained against the backdrop of the horizon. Sonarika trailed behind, her saree catching in the wind, eyes fixed on Karan’s joy.


For a moment, they were side by side again, standing shoulder to shoulder as they watched their son chase the tide. Neither spoke. The silence was thick, but when their hands brushed accidentally, Sonarika’s chest tightened. Hemant didn’t flinch, but he didn’t pull away either. Later, Karan begged them to help him build a sandcastle. Reluctantly, Hemant knelt beside him, pressing the damp sand into towers. Sonarika crouched on the other side, smoothing the walls with careful hands. Their fingers met more than once, each touch a reminder of the bond they once shared.


Sonarika felt it deeply—that intimacy in the smallest things. She remembered when they once built dreams together with the same synergy. Now, the sandcastle stood fragile between them, a mirror of their broken marriage. Karan was oblivious. He ran to fetch seashells to decorate the towers, calling his parents to admire his work. Hemant smiled faintly, clapping his son on the back. Sonarika caught the rare softness in his face, a softness she hadn’t seen in weeks. As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, they sat together on the sand, letting the waves kiss their feet. For Karan, it was bliss. For Sonarika, it was bittersweet. For Hemant, it was endurance.


Eventually, they returned home. The evening air carried the smell of roasted corn and sea salt, but the silence in the car was heavier than the waves they left behind. Anjali greeted them at the door, arms full of shopping bags, her cheeks flushed from her outing with friends. 


"Oh, you all went to the beach? I missed it!" she laughed. 


Her energy softened the atmosphere, and for a while, the house felt alive again. Dinner was wholesome—simple dal, rice, vegetables, but filled with conversations thanks to Karan and Anjali. They spoke of the institute, friends, and silly anecdotes. Hemant listened quietly, answering when needed. Sonarika observed, her heart torn between the comfort of family and the storm inside. After dinner, as the children settled in, Hemant turned to Sonarika in the hallway. 

"If you don’t mind… I’ll stay the night here" he said, his tone neutral.

Her breath hitched. She looked at him, bothered by the casualness of it, but also unable to protest with sincerity.

"No need to say that Hemant.....this is your house"


Later, Hemant emerged from the washroom, changed into a black tank top and soft grey pyjamas. The fabric clung to his frame, showing the well-toned muscles he had rebuilt over months of discipline. Sonarika caught herself staring—her eyes tracing the lines of his arms, his chest, his shoulders. She cursed herself for noticing. They slipped into bed, each lying on opposite ends, the silence suffocating. Sleep evaded them both. Finally, Hemant broke the silence. His voice was steady, but beneath it lay years of ache. 

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes" Sonarika turned toward him in the dark.

"What made him attractive to you?" Hemant asked bluntly. 

"What did Vikram have that I didn’t?"

The question sliced into her. Not because she hadn’t thought about it—but because speaking it aloud meant hurting him all over again. 

"Hemant…" she whispered, pained.

"Answer me" he pressed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

After a long pause, she whispered. 

"We found common ground in poetry and dance. We shared the same favorites, the same passions. That’s how it started. It was never meant to… grow the way it did"

Hemant absorbed it in silence, but then asked the most searing question: 

"Was he better than me? In bed"

"I won’t answer that" Sonarika stiffened. 

"Your silence says enough" Hemant chuckled bitterly. 

"No" she said firmly, turning toward him. 

"Don’t compare. Please. I’ll be honest with you, Hemant. You always held back with me. And I… I wished you wouldn’t. I craved for you to take me, to dominate me, to… rock my world. But you never did"

Tears filled her eyes. 

"Still, you gave me something Vikram never could—a deeper meaning to intimacy. You taught me that sex isn’t about power. It’s about sharing, about connecting. I was always satisfied with you… but I always wanted all of you. And you never gave me that"

Hemant lay still, her words echoing in his mind. 

"You never gave me all of you" 

It stung like no bullet or betrayal ever had. He realized that the good parts of himself—the passion, the wildness, the dominance—he had buried with Michael King, never allowing Sonarika to see them. Slowly, he turned his face toward her. In the dim glow of the night lamp, he saw her eyes glistening, searching for him. His voice cracked faintly as he asked. 

"Do you… do you miss what we had once?"

Sonarika’s lips trembled. 

"Every single day" She gestured around the room. 

"This room once echoed with our laughter, our whispers, our giggles, your grunts, my moans. It was alive. Now it only hears my cries"

Her words shattered the last of his defenses. Tears stung his eyes as he reached out, pulling her into his arms. Sonarika collapsed against his chest, sobbing into him, her body trembling as though she had been waiting for this embrace forever. He held her tighter than he had in years, his hands moving over her back with desperation. She clung to him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, feeling again the peace she had lost.

When they finally pulled back, their faces were only inches apart. Hemant’s breath was ragged, his heart hammering. He stared into her eyes, and in that moment, he stopped fighting what he felt. He kissed her. Hard. Fierce. All-consuming. His lips crashed onto hers with a hunger he had never allowed himself to show. Sonarika gasped against his mouth, shocked at first, but then surrendering as the wildfire spread through her. She felt his tongue invade, wrestling with hers, his teeth biting at her lower lip. It was raw, it was wild, it was everything she had once begged for.


For the first time in her life at that moment, she didn’t think of Vikram. She didn’t think of betrayal, or divorce, or the ruin of her family. Her mind, her body, her spirit—all screamed Hemant’s name. She could feel his muscles tense beneath her touch, feel the inferno of his passion surge through every movement. It was as though the man she once loved had finally unleashed the part of himself he had locked away. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands clutching his shoulders, urging him closer. The fire between them was undeniable, uncontrollable.

But then, abruptly, Hemant pulled away. His chest rose and fell violently as he broke the kiss, his face torn with conflict. Sonarika’s eyes widened, her lips swollen, her breath unsteady. 

"Why did you stop?" she demanded, frustration lacing her voice.

Hemant closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

"I can’t. Not like this"

"Not like what?" she shot back, her voice breaking.

He looked at her, pain etched into every line of his face. 

"Knowing there’s another man in your heart. I can’t give myself to you while you’re still his too"

Sonarika’s eyes flooded. 

"Vikram is not replacing you, Hemant! Don’t you see? I still love you. I still—"

"No" he cut her off sharply. 

"This should not happen. We made a choice to separate for a reason"

Her voice rose, trembling. 

"We didn’t make a choice—you did! You’re the one ending our marriage, not me!"

Hemant’s expression hardened. 

"Listen to yourself. Do you even hear how hypocritical you sound? You brought him into our lives. You betrayed me. And now you want to claim love?"

Sonarika sobbed, clutching her chest as though her heart were breaking all over again. 

"I know I’m messed up. I know I’ve ruined everything. But don’t you dare think I don’t love you. Because I do, Hemant. Despite everything, I always will"

For a moment, his eyes softened, but he forced the feeling down. He turned onto his side, away from her. 

"Don’t do this again. Don’t make me feel something that shouldn’t exist anymore"

"Hemant—" She reached for him, desperate.

"Go to him tomorrow" Hemant muttered bitterly. 

"Maybe he can satisfy the hunger you crave. Maybe he can give you the dominance you always wanted"

His words cut deeper than knives. Sonarika covered her mouth to muffle the sob that escaped. She turned away, tears streaming silently onto her pillow. And so, the once-loving couple lay inches apart, yet worlds away. Facing opposite directions, their tears soaked into the same bed—a bed that had once been their sanctuary, now their battlefield. Sleep came to them both, not as peace, but as an exhausted surrender after a night of love, fire, and sorrow too heavy to bear.


THE NEXT MORNING



Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, soft and golden, cutting through the heavy silence that had lingered after their bitter night. The smell of fresh parathas and tea filled the air as Sonarika busied herself in the kitchen, her eyes swollen from crying but her hands determined to carry the day with some semblance of normalcy. Karan bounded in, hair messy from sleep, his voice carrying the unfiltered cheer of childhood. 

"Mumma! Papa! Come on! Breakfast time!" 

He tugged at Hemant’s arm, who was sitting at the dining table staring absently at his phone. Hemant looked down at his son, a faint smile breaking his tired face. 

"Alright, champ, I’m coming" 

He ruffled Karan’s hair, and for a brief second, the darkness inside him lightened. Anjali entered soon after, still in her casual outfit from last night, stretching her arms. 

"Something smells amazing, Didi. You’re spoiling us"

Sonarika forced a smile. 

"Only because you all deserve it" 

She set the dishes on the table—hot parathas, a bowl of curd, pickles, and tea.

They sat together as a family, the four of them, just like old times. Karan, oblivious to the distance between his parents, kept chatting excitedly about the institute, cricket practice, and how he wanted to go to the beach again. Hemant chuckled faintly at his son’s antics. 

"Didn’t you drag us there just yesterday?"

"Yes! But it was fun! Papa was there, Mumma was there. I want more days like that" 

Karan insisted, stuffing paratha into his mouth. Sonarika’s eyes softened at the boy’s words. She glanced at Hemant, who avoided her gaze, but she caught the twitch of his jaw—the silent ache he tried to bury. Anjali leaned back in her chair. 

"Honestly, it felt like old times last night. Just us. Together. I miss that"

The words hung heavily. Hemant cleared his throat. 

"Life changes, Anju. But we’ll always be here for each other, no matter what"

After breakfast, Karan ran to pack his cricket bag, and Anjali got ready to head out with friends again. Sonarika lingered at the sink, washing plates slowly, her heart thudding with the dread of being left alone with Hemant. Soon enough, the kids left. The door closed, and silence returned. Hemant leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching her as she wiped her hands on her saree.

"You didn’t hold back last night" 

Sonarika said finally, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, cautious, but honest. Hemant’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. 

"You’re right. I didn’t. And if I hadn’t stopped, I would’ve gone all the way with you" 

He exhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead. 

"But the thought of you giving your love to another man… it messed me up. I couldn’t escape it"

Sonarika’s eyes welled again. 

"I don’t love him, Hemant. I… I do have unexplained feelings for Vikram, yes, but it's not love"

Hemant let out a bitter laugh. 

"Oh, of course. Not love. Just… what then? Obviously, he’s some sex machine in bed, isn’t he? That’s why you’ve got these so-called ‘deeper’ feelings for him"

She shook her head, hurt. 

"Don’t reduce it like that. Yes, he awakened something in me, something I didn’t even know was missing. I can’t deny that. But even with that, he has never replaced you in my heart"

His lips curled into a cruel smirk. 

"Your heart? Don’t make me laugh, Sonarika. Your heart is less a place of love and peace and more like a two-bedroom apartment complex. One for me, one for him. Maybe you’ll rent out more space if someone else comes along"

Sonarika staggered back as if slapped. Tears spilled instantly. 

"Why do you hate me so much?" she whispered, clutching her chest.

Hemant’s expression hardened into stone. 

"I don’t hate you. I hate what you’ve turned us into. I hate that I can’t look at you without seeing him"

She tried to step closer, her hands trembling. 

"Please… don’t push me further away. Last night—"

"Last night was a mistake" Hemant cut her off coldly. 

"I shouldn’t have stayed. I won’t do that again"

"Hemant…" Her lips trembled. 

He grabbed his bag from the corner, not meeting her eyes. 

"I’ll keep sleeping at the factory until the new house is ready. At least there, I don’t have to drown in this… mess"

Sonarika broke down, tears falling freely as he walked to the door. 

"Don’t go like this… please…"

He paused for a moment, his back stiff, as though torn between staying and leaving. But he didn’t turn. 

"Goodbye, Sonarika"

The door shut, leaving her in the empty apartment, her sobs echoing off the walls. She slid to the floor, her body curling in on itself. Maybe Vikram will be her peace, she thought bitterly. Maybe he can be her strength. But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true. Deep down, she knew the difference between the two men in her life. And so she accepted the truth in her heart—she may never again find the peace she once found in Hemant. That place of safety, of unconditional love, was gone, and no one could ever replace it.

                                                                                                                                              (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)