06-09-2025, 11:26 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-09-2025, 11:54 PM by Harry Jordan. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
CHAPTER 22
The air at the isolated docks of Mumbai Port carried a salty heaviness that matched the weight in Hemant’s chest. The steel corridors of YOD Industries’ factory echoed with the sound of grinding machines and welding sparks as workers assembled Alignment Knots destined for Private and Military Contractors and for a robust future. Yet, amidst the hum of production, Hemant felt detached, his mind ensnared in a storm of memory and dread. He had built all of this—an empire carved not through violence, but through vision and resilience—yet the ghost of Michael King, the persona he buried, whispered in the dark corners of his conscience. And now, that whisper grew louder, for his past was clawing its way back to him in the form of another Zarir.
He leaned against a railing overlooking the assembly line, staring down at the men in hard hats and grease-stained uniforms. They worked with discipline, loyalty, and faith in him, their leader. For them, he wasn’t Michael King, the vigilante of blood and fire; he was Hemant—the founder, the provider, the visionary. But inside him the tremors were undeniable. Zarir’s return was not merely the resurfacing of an old enemy; it was the reawakening of every scar, every scream, every crimson night that Michael King had painted when vengeance was his only creed. He wondered whether these men, these loyal workers, could ever imagine the blood-drenched shadows that still stalked their leader’s soul.
He remembered Father Dominic’s voice from decades past, calling him Michael the Archangel, the soldier of God. At the time, the name was a weapon, a holy armor to justify the carnage he unleashed on evil men around the world. But when he closed his eyes now, he saw the faces of Manush Rustom’s family—the innocent lives extinguished before him, the cries that tore at his humanity. It wasn’t their killers’ blood on his hands that haunted him most, but the helplessness of not saving the ones who mattered. And now, with the Zarir name rising, the old guilt sharpened into a new blade pressing against his chest.
His personal life was already in ruins. Sonarika’s betrayal had left a canyon of emptiness within him. Divorce cooling period had reduced their marriage to a dystopian world, and Karan, his son, was caught in the middle of it. Hemant swore his son would never feel abandoned, but what if this Zarir conflict's shadow consumed him once again? What if Michael King returned and devoured Hemant, leaving behind a man Karan could no longer recognize? His heart ached with the dual torment of broken love and resurfacing vengeance, two forces threatening to fracture him entirely.
Anjali’s Garuda ring pressed firmly against his finger, warm with symbolism. She had told him it was a reminder that he was more than just a husband, more than just a businessman—he was destined for something greater, as Garuda was to Vishnu. On his other hand, the Archangel ring glistened under the factory’s dim lights, a relic of Michael King’s reign. Together, the two rings felt like anchors, pulling him in opposite directions yet urging him toward a synthesis. Perhaps he need not choose between Hemant and Michael. Perhaps he could be something more—a force forged from both identities, purified of their weaknesses, honed into a man capable of striking down Daraaksh and the AZRAEL syndicate without drowning in bloodlust.
He thought of Roy Harper’s words: Never go back, only forward. Harper, seasoned by wars across continents now part of ANVIL, had seen men destroyed by nostalgia for their darker selves. Hemant knew his friend was right. If he became Michael King again, he would fall into that same darkness, confirming the enemy’s belief that he was nothing more than a relic of vengeance. But if he remained only Hemant, the soft-hearted family man who had once been deceived under his own roof, he would never survive what was coming. The truth was clearer now than ever—he needed to merge the fire of Michael with the resolve of Hemant, becoming something neither of them could be alone.
As he walked deeper into the factory, the machines roaring around him like war drums, he felt his turmoil harden into resolve. His empire was no illusion; YOD Industries was his fortress, his people his army. He had Raquel, sharp and loyal, by his side. He had Harper, the hardened soldier, and ANVIL’s resources at his call. He had the blessing of Anjali’s faith and the symbol of Father Dominic’s christening. He was not just a common man standing at the edge of despair. He was Hemant Kumar—the amalgam of past and present, family and vengeance, creation and destruction. And when the time came to face Zarir and the syndicate of AZRAEL, he would not rise as Michael King nor remain as Hemant alone. He would ascend as something new, something inevitable: a primordial force of order and justice born from fire, betrayal, and more than human.
SOME TIME LATER AT A LOCATION OUTSIDE MUMBAI
The test ground on the landscape of Karjat buzzed with anticipation. The sprawling patch of rugged terrain had been chosen carefully—it had swamps, uneven rocky paths, and deep trenches, the perfect crucible for the first trial of YOD Industries’ new armored All-Terrain Vehicle. Soldiers in fatigues and engineers in factory overalls stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the dark steel beast gleaming under the morning sun. Hemant arrived with his security and Raquel at his side, his face carrying a calmness that concealed the storm inside. Today wasn’t about personal wounds or ghosts from the past; today was about proving that his empire had real weight in the defense of the nation.
"Impressive machine you’ve built here, Hemant"
The deep, authoritative voice of Brigadier Rajat Sharma was heard as he approached. His presence commanded respect, a soldier of decades of wars and discipline. Hemant turned and saluted instinctively, though he was not in uniform.
"Sir, it’s an honor to have you here" Hemant replied, his voice steady.
"This vehicle… it’s the culmination of everything we’ve been working on at YOD. Our engineers, our design teams, they’ve poured everything into this"
Brigadier Sharma placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"The Army doesn’t hand out opportunities like this lightly. You’re being tested not just for your machines, but for your intent. Remember that"
The trial began with a low rumble as the prototype roared to life. Its armored plating gleamed, and its massive wheels crushed the ground beneath. Soldiers cheered lightly as it powered through the swamp without slowing, then climbed a rocky incline with ease. Engineers noted down performance stats, every bounce, every stress point. Hemant watched silently, heart pounding—not with fear, but with the pride of a creator watching his vision come alive.
"Next, the ammunition test" announced one of the defense officials.
A turret mounted on the vehicle swiveled into position, loading a heavy round. With a thunderous crack, the shell fired into the testing range, obliterating a mock target bunker in a cloud of dust and smoke. The recoil was absorbed seamlessly by the vehicle’s stabilizers. Then came the rapid-fire sequence: machine guns rattled off controlled bursts, striking every marked target with precision. One official, Colonel Bhagat, whistled under his breath.
"That’s not just efficient, that’s elegant. Your balancing of armor weight with maneuverability… it’s leagues ahead of anything we’ve tested locally"
Brigadier Sharma turned toward Hemant, raising an eyebrow.
"And you designed this with private military operations in mind as well, didn’t you?"
Hemant nodded.
"Yes, sir. The specifications allow interoperability with ANVIL and other military forces. But make no mistake—this design was tailored first and foremost for the Indian Army. Its spirit lies here, defending our soil"
The brigadier studied him for a long moment, then cracked a rare smile.
"Good answer"
As the vehicle completed its firepower demonstration, maneuvering across steep terrain while unleashing calculated rounds, the officials murmured among themselves.
Finally, Brigadier Sharma raised his hand, silencing the chatter.
"Gentlemen, I don’t need a second trial. This vehicle has surpassed our expectations. Its adaptability, firepower, and durability are of the highest order. On behalf of the Indian Army, I am sanctioning an exclusive license for YOD Industries to begin production. The government contract is yours, Hemant"
There was an audible stir among the gathered men. Engineers clapped each other on the back, soldiers nodded approvingly, and Raquel allowed herself a proud smile. Hemant, however, stood still for a moment, absorbing the weight of the words. This wasn’t just a business victory—it was validation, proof that his empire was built on more than shadows of his past.
"Thank you, Brigadier" Hemant finally said, his voice heavy with gratitude.
"You have my word—this contract won’t just be a business venture. It’ll be a responsibility. YOD will serve the nation with everything it has"
Brigadier Sharma looked him in the eye.
"See that you do, Hemant. Success brings power. Power brings enemies. But it also brings purpose. Never forget which of the three is worth holding onto"
As the officials began drafting papers and the engineers continued to inspect the vehicle, Hemant felt something unfamiliar in the chaos of his broken life—a warmth spreading through his chest. It wasn’t the hollow pride of Michael King’s victories, nor the fleeting happiness of his once-perfect family. It was the steady, grounding strength of success born from creation, not destruction. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps he could rise above the ruins of betrayal and vengeance. Perhaps, after all, this was the beginning of the man he was meant to become.
The factory floor at YOD Industries was alive with celebration that evening. Word of the government contract had spread like wildfire, and workers were gathered in clusters, buzzing with excitement. Hemant stood on the mezzanine, looking down at the men and women who had made this day possible—the welders, the machinists, the engineers, the designers, every pair of hands that had contributed to the armored vehicle’s success. When he descended the stairs and stepped into the crowd, silence fell almost instantly, all eyes turning toward him.
"You’ve all worked harder than anyone could ask for"
Hemant began, his voice carrying through the vast hall.
"This victory doesn’t belong to me—it belongs to every one of you who put your sweat, your skill, and your loyalty into building what we achieved today. The Indian Army’s trust is not mine alone to bear, it is yours too. And today, I want you to know how much I value you"
With a nod to Raquel, crates were brought out—boxes filled with gifts, envelopes, and cash bonuses. Workers gasped, their faces lighting up as they realized what was happening.
One of the older workers, gray streaking his beard, stepped forward hesitantly.
"Sir, no one has ever treated us this way. We work because it is our duty, but today… you’ve made us feel like family"
The words were met with murmurs of agreement, heads nodding, and even a few moist eyes in the crowd. Hemant reached out, clasping the man’s shoulder.
"This company is nothing without you. If I am to lead, then it will be by standing with you, not above you"
The hall erupted in cheers, workers lifting their gifts high, clapping and chanting Hemant’s name. It was not the reverence born of fear, as Michael King had once commanded, nor the shallow respect of business circles that only cared for profits. This was something purer—loyalty earned through care and humility. Hemant allowed himself a rare smile, a genuine one, as he stood among his people, feeling for the first time in weeks that he belonged somewhere.
As the celebration carried on, Hemant leaned against a steel pillar, watching his employees laugh, sing, and embrace. For a brief moment, the nightmares of Sonarika’s betrayal and his enemies’s looming vengeance were pushed into the background. This, he realized, was his true strength—not vengeance, not fear, but the ability to create, to inspire, to give. And as long as moments like these existed, he knew he could endure the shadows of his past and forge something greater in the future.
THAT EVENING AT HOME
The apartment smelled faintly of craft glue and vinegar as Hemant stepped inside, the sound of bubbling and laughter drifting from the living room. Karan was crouched on the floor with a cardboard volcano, paint streaked on his cheeks, while Anjali sat beside him with a mixing bowl.
"Papa! Look!" Karan exclaimed, waving his hands.
"We’re going to make the lava flow tonight!"
Hemant dropped his briefcase by the door, the tension of the day melting just a little as he watched his son’s eyes sparkle.
"Ah, a science project" he said, crouching beside Karan.
"Let me guess—baking soda and vinegar eruption?"
Karan grinned.
"Yes! But Anju Didi says we need to add food coloring so it looks like real lava. Can you help me mix it?"
Hemant nodded, rolling up his sleeves as Anjali smiled warmly at the two of them. For a moment, the apartment didn’t feel like a fractured household—it felt whole, alive, and innocent.
From the kitchen doorway, Sonarika stood silently, holding a cup of tea. She watched as Hemant carefully guided Karan’s small hands to pour the vinegar without spilling. Her lips trembled slightly, but she steadied herself. Two weeks of therapy with Neha Bharadwaj had given her a kind of fragile clarity. She knew she had broken something that might never be repaired, but seeing this—her son with his father—reminded her what she still had left to preserve. Anjali, glancing up at her sister, caught the distant look in her eyes. For days, doubts had been simmering inside her—whispers of a tension between Hemant and Sonarika that no one would name. Still, she smiled and encouraged Karan.
"Careful, little scientist. Not too much, or your volcano will blow up the house"
The mixture fizzed violently, red foam spilling out of the cardboard crater. Karan clapped his hands, eyes wide with amazement.
"It works! It really works!"
Karan shouted, hugging Hemant tightly. Hemant chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair.
"Of course it works. You’re a natural engineer, just like your Papa’s team at YOD"
Sonarika stepped closer, her voice soft.
"You’re good with him… always have been"
Hemant looked up at her briefly, their eyes locking for a moment too long before he looked away.
"He deserves better than what life has thrown at him"
Hemant replied, his tone quiet but firm. The words were aimed at the air, yet Sonarika felt their sting. Later that night, the apartment had quieted. Karan slept peacefully, curled up with his toy dinosaur, while Hemant and Sonarika lay side by side on the same bed yet worlds apart. For days they had shared this silence, a gulf stretching wider with every night. But tonight, she spoke first.
"I heard about the government contract. Anju told me. I… I’m proud of you, Hemant"
His breath caught, then released.
"It feels good" he admitted slowly, staring at the ceiling.
"To be seen. To be appreciated. Especially now, when my life is a ruin"
She bit her lip. That awkward silence between them stayed for some time. After which it was Hemant's turn to break it.
"How's the therapy?"
"The therapy… it’s helping. Neha gave me books, exercises. I’m… finding ways to hold myself together"
Hemant turned his head toward her, his eyes shadowed.
"I don’t know if I should be glad or furious when I hear that"
"Why furious?" Her brows furrowed.
"Because the man in me who still loves you feels relief that you’re healing. But the man you betrayed… hates that you aren’t suffering more"
His voice broke on the last word, rawer than he wanted. Tears pricked her eyes. Instead of recoiling, she nodded slowly.
"I understand that. Because I hate myself too, Hemant. For what I’ve become. For throwing away the love you carried for me. I was blind. Ungrateful. I destroyed what we built with my own hands. And no matter what I do now, I can’t undo the damage. Not to you. Not to us"
Silence hung between them, broken only by the faint hum of the ceiling fan. Finally, he whispered,
"So… have you given up on us completely?"
Her chest tightened.
"A part of me wants to fight for us. But the truth I’ve begun to see in therapy is… I’m not the woman I once was. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Until I find her again, I can’t pretend to be the partner you deserve. Right now, I am poison to you. And yet—”
Her voice trembled.
“You were always the best man I could have had. If I ever heal, if I ever find myself again, it will only be because of you"
His throat burned, but he forced the words out.
"My heart… it’s broken beyond repair, Sonarika. I can’t imagine love anymore. I have Karan. That’s all I need"
She wept silently into the dark.
"Then let our love live through him. Promise me, Hemant—no matter how deep this rift becomes—we will never let him feel abandoned. Never let him believe his parents failed him"
Hemant turned toward her, his face hard but his eyes softening. Slowly, he extended his hand.
"I promise"
Her fingers slipped into his, trembling, and for the first time in weeks they held each other—not as lovers, not as husband and wife, but as two shattered souls clutching at the only light left between them. And in that moment, the silence was not empty—it was full of grief, guilt, and a fragile pact to protect the boy who was the last echo of their once-beautiful love.
Hemant stirred awake in the morning, the weight of the previous night still pressing against his chest. Sonarika was already sitting up, her hair falling loosely across her shoulders as she folded Karan’s institute uniform on her lap. She didn’t look at Hemant, not immediately. For a moment, the silence was so delicate that it almost felt like peace. Almost.
Karan’s small footsteps broke the quiet as he burst into the room, holding a half-finished drawing. "Papa! Mumma! Look, I drew the volcano from last night! It even has lava!"
He climbed onto the bed, thrusting the paper forward with a proud grin. Hemant smiled faintly, pulling his son into his lap.
"It’s perfect. A true scientist and an artist"
Sonarika watched the two of them, her chest tightening at the sight. She forced a smile and reached over to adjust Karan’s collar.
"You’ll be the smartest in your class today" she said softly.
For a flicker of a second, the three of them looked like a family untouched by betrayal, untouched by bitterness.
"Papa, are you coming to see my project at institute later?"
Karan asked, eyes wide with expectation. Hemant hesitated, glancing toward Sonarika. She met his eyes, a silent plea resting there, urging him not to fail their son.
"Of course I’ll come" Hemant finally said, stroking Karan’s hair.
"I wouldn’t miss it for the world" The boy squealed with joy, hugging him tightly.
After Karan ran off to the bathroom to wash up, the air between Hemant and Sonarika grew heavy again. She folded the uniform with deliberate precision, avoiding his gaze.
"He still believes in us" she whispered, almost to herself.
"He sees us as whole"
Hemant leaned back against the headboard, his jaw tightening.
"That’s why we can’t let him see the cracks. Not now. Not ever"
His tone was sharp but resolute, carrying both love and pain. She looked up at him then, her eyes glistening.
"I don’t know how long I can keep pretending, Hemant. But I’ll do it. For him. He deserves at least that much"
For a moment, Hemant’s face softened. He wanted to say something—anything—that could bridge the abyss between them, but the words died in his throat. Instead, he simply nodded.
"We promised last night, didn’t we? We’ll hold the line for him. Whatever it takes"
Karan reappeared, his face wet from washing, his tie dangling awkwardly around his neck. Sonarika laughed faintly, the sound brittle yet genuine, as she knelt to fix it for him. Hemant watched quietly, remembering the woman she used to be—the one who laughed like that all the time, who filled the room with warmth. For a heartbeat, he almost believed she could be that woman again. As the three of them stepped out together—Hemant carrying Karan’s bag, Sonarika holding her son’s hand—the neighbors in the hallway smiled at the picture they made. To the world, they were still a family, still whole. Only inside their hearts did the fractures ache.
Hemant lingered by the door as Sonarika walked ahead with Karan. For all the betrayal, for all the hurt, a single thought rooted itself in his mind as he watched his son skip happily: This… this is why he cannot break. This is why he must endure. He closed the door gently behind him, the faintest whisper escaping his lips, unheard by either of them:
"For him, I’ll carry it all"
The institute's yard was alive with chatter and excitement, children running in circles with their half-finished projects clutched in small, eager hands. Cardboard solar systems, hand-drawn charts of plants, and crude models of bridges filled the classrooms. Hemant stood just outside the door of Karan’s classroom, adjusting his cufflinks as if they were armor. He wasn’t used to this world—the world of PTA meetings and childhood science fairs—but today he had promised. And Hemant never broke promises to his son.
Inside, Karan stood proudly beside his volcano, the paint still bright from the night before. His classmates whispered and pointed, impressed by the towering cardboard mountain. Sonarika sat quietly at the back of the room, her hands folded in her lap. Her heart raced when she saw Hemant step inside, the tall frame of him filling the doorway. Karan’s face lit up instantly, brighter than anything she’d seen in weeks.
"Papa! You came!" Karan shouted across the room, his teacher smiling at the enthusiasm.
Hemant gave a small wave, his stern expression softening into something almost childlike when he approached his son’s desk.
"Of course I did. I said I wouldn’t miss it, didn’t I?" he said, crouching down to Karan’s level.
The presentation began. Karan carefully explained the eruption, his small voice shaking at first, but strengthening when he glanced at his father.
"When vinegar mixes with baking soda, it makes carbon dioxide, which makes the volcano explode! Just like a real one!"
At that, the red foam bubbled up and spilled across the cardboard, drawing gasps and claps from his classmates.
Sonarika’s eyes blurred with tears. The look on Karan’s face—the pride, the joy—was something she thought she’d ruined forever. Yet here it was again, rekindled by Hemant’s presence. She caught herself staring at him, at the way his hand rested gently on their son’s shoulder, grounding him, steadying him. For a moment, she saw the man she had once fallen in love with, before ambition, betrayal, and heartbreak had corroded everything between them.
After the applause, the teacher approached Hemant.
"Your son has a brilliant mind. He explained everything so well. You must be proud, Mr. Kumar"
Hemant glanced at Karan, then at Sonarika at the back of the room. His voice was quiet, but firm.
"Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it"
When the class was dismissed, Karan rushed to both his parents, grabbing their hands in his small fists.
"Did you see? Did you both see? Everyone clapped for me!"
His joy was uncontainable, his laughter pure. Hemant and Sonarika exchanged a look over their son’s head—wordless, heavy, but not hostile. It was a look that said: For him, we will stand together, even if only in shadows. On the walk back to the car, Karan skipped ahead, humming to himself. Sonarika walked a step behind Hemant, finally breaking the silence.
"He shines the most when you’re there. You’re… the anchor he leans on"
Hemant’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look at her, but his words were steady.
"Then we’ll make sure he never feels that anchor slip. No matter what we’ve done to each other, he will never carry our sins"
Her voice trembled.
"I don’t deserve the grace you show me, Hemant. But I will give everything I have left to keep that promise with you. He deserves at least that much"
At that, Hemant finally turned to her, his eyes dark, wounded, but resolute.
"This isn’t about grace. This is about survival. For him"
Sonarika lowered her gaze, her throat tight, but for the first time in weeks she didn’t feel defensiveness or denial—only acceptance. Walking side by side, the fractured couple watched their son dart ahead, his small figure glowing in the morning sun. And in that fragile moment, both of them realized: Karan was not only their bond, he was their only redemption.
That night, the apartment was quieter than usual. The echoes of Karan’s laughter from the science fair still lingered in Hemant’s memory like a bittersweet song. His son had gone to bed early, exhausted from all the excitement, and Anjali had retired to her room. The living room was dimly lit by the glow of a single lamp, and the silence between Hemant and Sonarika was heavy enough to suffocate.
Hemant sat on the couch, a glass of water untouched in his hand, staring blankly at the shadows on the wall. Sonarika stood near the balcony, her arms crossed, as if bracing herself against an unseen wind. Finally, she broke the silence.
"He was so happy today" she said softly.
"I don’t remember the last time I saw him that alive"
Hemant’s voice was low, almost hoarse.
"Because for once, we were both there. Together. He doesn’t see the cracks yet. To him, everything is still whole"
He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking on her.
"But we know better"
Her lips trembled.
"Yes. We do" She paused, then whispered.
"It kills me, Hemant. Seeing him like that, knowing what I’ve done to us. Knowing how I destroyed the one thing that mattered most to you"
Hemant clenched his fist around the glass until his knuckles turned white.
"You didn’t just destroy us, Sonarika. You destroyed the part of me that believed love could survive anything. I look at you, and sometimes I want to remember the woman I fell in love with… but then I see the one who chose someone else over me. And it tears me apart"
Her eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t look awayShe finally spoke, her voice trembling, yet firm with the weight of confession.
"Hemant… I don’t see Vikram as a mistake" she said.
"He was someone who… filled the void I felt when you chased the future, when you chased the empire you’re building. He connected with me in my vulnerabilities, in the things I couldn’t speak out loud. With him, I felt seen. And in that connection… I lost myself in the passion of it"
The words struck Hemant like daggers. He lifted his eyes, hollow and pained, meeting hers. His voice came out sharp, almost mocking.
"So tell me then, Sonarika. What was I? A placeholder? A shadow you tolerated until your savior showed up?"
His voice cracked, bitter irony spilling out.
"Did I even exist in you at all?"
Tears welled in her eyes, but she shook her head.
"Don’t twist it that way. I always loved you, Hemant. Always. If Vikram had walked into my life in our early days, I wouldn’t even have looked at him. Back then, I was happy—fulfilled—living with you, in your love, in our world. But somewhere down the line, we were vulnerable and distant to each other. And in that distance, Vikram came near and reached me"
Hemant let out a hollow laugh, his lips curling in cruelty masking agony.
"And then he fulfilled you even more, isn’t it?"
The sting of his words made her chest tighten, but she steadied herself.
"No. Don’t say that. Vikram is Vikram, and you are you. There is no comparison. The fault isn’t in either of you—it’s in me. I am the culprit. I am the one who failed"
His face hardened, a deep shadow in his gaze.
"So is that why you’re leaving me for him? Because you’ve decided I’m the stronger one, the one who can handle the abandonment?"
At that, Sonarika broke, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Leaving you is the last thing I want, Hemant. Don’t you understand? I still love you. But I know, deep down, you’re stronger than Vikram. You’re mature, you’re resilient. If anyone can survive me, it’s you"
She choked on her words.
"I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish I could undo everything. But life doesn’t give us that mercy"
Hemant’s voice trembled, his pain boiling to the surface.
"And now you’re telling me to be open to love again? That maybe some other woman will come, make me whole again? Give Karan the sibling we planned for?"
His voice broke at the word sibling, a knife twisting deep in his chest.
"Do you know what that does to me, Sonarika? That was our dream. Our family. And now you throw it like it’s nothing but a consolation prize"
Her sobs grew heavier, guilt gnawing at her from within.
"It’s not nothing. It’s everything I destroyed. I still love you, Hemant. I want to fix us. But I’ve accepted—I can’t just wipe away the mess. It will take more than love to heal what I’ve broken. I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to what we had"
Hemant’s fists clenched as he tried to contain his rage.
"And yet Vikram is still in the picture. Still haunting us. Still holding a piece of you"
Her head dropped, her voice faint.
"In my last conversation with him, he told me he was willing to love me with half a heart… because even half a heart can beat. And those words—"
She faltered, pain etched across her face.
"—those words made me realize how broken I’ve become. How much I’ve allowed myself to shatter everything"
Hemant rose suddenly, towering over her, his face etched with fury and devastation.
"So that’s it, then? You admit you still hold him inside you? That after everything, you’d rather cling to the man who offered you half a heart than the one who gave you his entire soul?"
His voice broke.
"When you start a life with him, Sonarika, give me a fair warning. Because I’ll need to prepare myself for the next storm you’ll unleash"
Her knees nearly buckled under the weight of his words, her tears flowing freely.
"Hemant…" she whispered.
"I know I’m ruining you further. I know. And I can’t bear it. But still, I beg you—don’t close your heart forever. Don’t become a broken man for life. Not for me. Not for my sins"
Hemant turned away, his body trembling. He forced the words out, sharp with anger.
"Worry about your man, Sonarika. Not me"
She stepped closer, voice fragile but steady.
"You don’t understand… for me even right now , my man is you , it is still you!”
For a long moment, silence filled the space between them—thick, suffocating, unyielding. Finally, Hemant walked back to the bedroom, the weight of his pain dragging with him. Sonarika followed quietly, both of them lying down on opposite sides of the same bed, worlds apart, yet tied together by their son. In the darkness, their breaths were uneven, heavy with sorrow. And as they drifted into a restless sleep, the broken couple buried their pain beneath the fragile pact they made—for Karan, and only for him.
As the morning brightened the sky. The alarm buzzed, but Hemant was already awake, staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes. Beside him, Sonarika shifted, her back still turned to him, her breathing uneven—half-asleep, half-drifting in her thoughts. Their silence from the night before still clung to the air, heavy and unspoken. The sound of small footsteps broke the weight of the atmosphere. Karan, clutching his institute project in both hands, peeked into the bedroom.
"Papa? Mumma? Wake up! I want to show you how the volcano looks in the morning light!"
His voice carried the kind of unfiltered joy only a child could muster. Hemant forced a smile, sitting up.
"Coming, champ" he said softly, though his throat felt tight.
Sonarika turned too, wiping her eyes quickly so Karan wouldn’t notice. She pushed herself up and followed Hemant out of the room. In the dining area, Anjali was already preparing breakfast, humming faintly. She glanced at the couple and noticed the distance in their expressions, but she didn’t pry. Instead, she focused on Karan, who was busy placing his little volcano on the dining table.
"Look, Papa, Mumma! When I pour the red liquid, it looks real!" Karan exclaimed with pride.
Hemant crouched beside him, ruffling his hair.
"That’s brilliant, Karan. You’ve done a wonderful job"
His voice carried genuine warmth, the kind of love that no amount of heartbreak could erase. Sonarika bent down as well, her smile tender.
"I’m so proud of you, beta. You’re going to amaze everyone in college"
For a moment, both parents were side by side, their admiration for their son pulling them together despite the chasm in their hearts. Karan beamed at them.
"We should do more projects together! Papa, Mama, and me. Then it will always be fun"
His innocent words sliced through the tension. Hemant’s smile faltered for the briefest second, but he masked it quickly.
"Of course, champ. Always"
He said, though inside he wondered if 'always' was a lie he was telling his son—or himself. Breakfast began soon after, with Anjali serving parathas and tea. Karan chattered endlessly about his project, about how he wanted to build a bigger volcano next time, maybe even a solar system model. Sonarika laughed softly, engaging with him, while Hemant listened in silence, his eyes fixed on Karan but his mind adrift.
At one point, Karan turned to him and asked.
"Papa, will you come to the science fair next week? Mama already said yes"
The question hung heavy in the air. Hemant swallowed hard, nodding.
"I’ll be there, Karan. No matter what"
Across the table, Sonarika glanced at him. The weight of his words carried more than just a promise to his son—it was a vow, silent but clear, that despite everything between them, Hemant would never fail Karan. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and though filled with pain, there was also a fragile understanding. Anjali noticed the exchange, her suspicion quietly growing, but she kept her silence. Instead, she asked Karan about the institute, giving Hemant and Sonarika a chance to hide the storm behind their carefully chosen smiles. As breakfast ended, Karan ran off to pack his bag, leaving the two adults in the dining room with their unspoken truths. Sonarika touched the rim of her teacup, her voice low.
"He really brings us back, doesn’t he?"
Hemant nodded, his jaw tightening.
"He’s the only thing holding us together"
The words carried both comfort and sorrow, a truth neither of them could deny. In the quiet that followed, they shared one last look—two broken souls tethered by their child, trying to hold themselves together for the sake of his innocence.
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
He leaned against a railing overlooking the assembly line, staring down at the men in hard hats and grease-stained uniforms. They worked with discipline, loyalty, and faith in him, their leader. For them, he wasn’t Michael King, the vigilante of blood and fire; he was Hemant—the founder, the provider, the visionary. But inside him the tremors were undeniable. Zarir’s return was not merely the resurfacing of an old enemy; it was the reawakening of every scar, every scream, every crimson night that Michael King had painted when vengeance was his only creed. He wondered whether these men, these loyal workers, could ever imagine the blood-drenched shadows that still stalked their leader’s soul.
He remembered Father Dominic’s voice from decades past, calling him Michael the Archangel, the soldier of God. At the time, the name was a weapon, a holy armor to justify the carnage he unleashed on evil men around the world. But when he closed his eyes now, he saw the faces of Manush Rustom’s family—the innocent lives extinguished before him, the cries that tore at his humanity. It wasn’t their killers’ blood on his hands that haunted him most, but the helplessness of not saving the ones who mattered. And now, with the Zarir name rising, the old guilt sharpened into a new blade pressing against his chest.
His personal life was already in ruins. Sonarika’s betrayal had left a canyon of emptiness within him. Divorce cooling period had reduced their marriage to a dystopian world, and Karan, his son, was caught in the middle of it. Hemant swore his son would never feel abandoned, but what if this Zarir conflict's shadow consumed him once again? What if Michael King returned and devoured Hemant, leaving behind a man Karan could no longer recognize? His heart ached with the dual torment of broken love and resurfacing vengeance, two forces threatening to fracture him entirely.
Anjali’s Garuda ring pressed firmly against his finger, warm with symbolism. She had told him it was a reminder that he was more than just a husband, more than just a businessman—he was destined for something greater, as Garuda was to Vishnu. On his other hand, the Archangel ring glistened under the factory’s dim lights, a relic of Michael King’s reign. Together, the two rings felt like anchors, pulling him in opposite directions yet urging him toward a synthesis. Perhaps he need not choose between Hemant and Michael. Perhaps he could be something more—a force forged from both identities, purified of their weaknesses, honed into a man capable of striking down Daraaksh and the AZRAEL syndicate without drowning in bloodlust.
He thought of Roy Harper’s words: Never go back, only forward. Harper, seasoned by wars across continents now part of ANVIL, had seen men destroyed by nostalgia for their darker selves. Hemant knew his friend was right. If he became Michael King again, he would fall into that same darkness, confirming the enemy’s belief that he was nothing more than a relic of vengeance. But if he remained only Hemant, the soft-hearted family man who had once been deceived under his own roof, he would never survive what was coming. The truth was clearer now than ever—he needed to merge the fire of Michael with the resolve of Hemant, becoming something neither of them could be alone.
As he walked deeper into the factory, the machines roaring around him like war drums, he felt his turmoil harden into resolve. His empire was no illusion; YOD Industries was his fortress, his people his army. He had Raquel, sharp and loyal, by his side. He had Harper, the hardened soldier, and ANVIL’s resources at his call. He had the blessing of Anjali’s faith and the symbol of Father Dominic’s christening. He was not just a common man standing at the edge of despair. He was Hemant Kumar—the amalgam of past and present, family and vengeance, creation and destruction. And when the time came to face Zarir and the syndicate of AZRAEL, he would not rise as Michael King nor remain as Hemant alone. He would ascend as something new, something inevitable: a primordial force of order and justice born from fire, betrayal, and more than human.
SOME TIME LATER AT A LOCATION OUTSIDE MUMBAI
The test ground on the landscape of Karjat buzzed with anticipation. The sprawling patch of rugged terrain had been chosen carefully—it had swamps, uneven rocky paths, and deep trenches, the perfect crucible for the first trial of YOD Industries’ new armored All-Terrain Vehicle. Soldiers in fatigues and engineers in factory overalls stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the dark steel beast gleaming under the morning sun. Hemant arrived with his security and Raquel at his side, his face carrying a calmness that concealed the storm inside. Today wasn’t about personal wounds or ghosts from the past; today was about proving that his empire had real weight in the defense of the nation.
"Impressive machine you’ve built here, Hemant"
The deep, authoritative voice of Brigadier Rajat Sharma was heard as he approached. His presence commanded respect, a soldier of decades of wars and discipline. Hemant turned and saluted instinctively, though he was not in uniform.
"Sir, it’s an honor to have you here" Hemant replied, his voice steady.
"This vehicle… it’s the culmination of everything we’ve been working on at YOD. Our engineers, our design teams, they’ve poured everything into this"
Brigadier Sharma placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"The Army doesn’t hand out opportunities like this lightly. You’re being tested not just for your machines, but for your intent. Remember that"
The trial began with a low rumble as the prototype roared to life. Its armored plating gleamed, and its massive wheels crushed the ground beneath. Soldiers cheered lightly as it powered through the swamp without slowing, then climbed a rocky incline with ease. Engineers noted down performance stats, every bounce, every stress point. Hemant watched silently, heart pounding—not with fear, but with the pride of a creator watching his vision come alive.
"Next, the ammunition test" announced one of the defense officials.
A turret mounted on the vehicle swiveled into position, loading a heavy round. With a thunderous crack, the shell fired into the testing range, obliterating a mock target bunker in a cloud of dust and smoke. The recoil was absorbed seamlessly by the vehicle’s stabilizers. Then came the rapid-fire sequence: machine guns rattled off controlled bursts, striking every marked target with precision. One official, Colonel Bhagat, whistled under his breath.
"That’s not just efficient, that’s elegant. Your balancing of armor weight with maneuverability… it’s leagues ahead of anything we’ve tested locally"
Brigadier Sharma turned toward Hemant, raising an eyebrow.
"And you designed this with private military operations in mind as well, didn’t you?"
Hemant nodded.
"Yes, sir. The specifications allow interoperability with ANVIL and other military forces. But make no mistake—this design was tailored first and foremost for the Indian Army. Its spirit lies here, defending our soil"
The brigadier studied him for a long moment, then cracked a rare smile.
"Good answer"
As the vehicle completed its firepower demonstration, maneuvering across steep terrain while unleashing calculated rounds, the officials murmured among themselves.
Finally, Brigadier Sharma raised his hand, silencing the chatter.
"Gentlemen, I don’t need a second trial. This vehicle has surpassed our expectations. Its adaptability, firepower, and durability are of the highest order. On behalf of the Indian Army, I am sanctioning an exclusive license for YOD Industries to begin production. The government contract is yours, Hemant"
There was an audible stir among the gathered men. Engineers clapped each other on the back, soldiers nodded approvingly, and Raquel allowed herself a proud smile. Hemant, however, stood still for a moment, absorbing the weight of the words. This wasn’t just a business victory—it was validation, proof that his empire was built on more than shadows of his past.
"Thank you, Brigadier" Hemant finally said, his voice heavy with gratitude.
"You have my word—this contract won’t just be a business venture. It’ll be a responsibility. YOD will serve the nation with everything it has"
Brigadier Sharma looked him in the eye.
"See that you do, Hemant. Success brings power. Power brings enemies. But it also brings purpose. Never forget which of the three is worth holding onto"
As the officials began drafting papers and the engineers continued to inspect the vehicle, Hemant felt something unfamiliar in the chaos of his broken life—a warmth spreading through his chest. It wasn’t the hollow pride of Michael King’s victories, nor the fleeting happiness of his once-perfect family. It was the steady, grounding strength of success born from creation, not destruction. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps he could rise above the ruins of betrayal and vengeance. Perhaps, after all, this was the beginning of the man he was meant to become.
The factory floor at YOD Industries was alive with celebration that evening. Word of the government contract had spread like wildfire, and workers were gathered in clusters, buzzing with excitement. Hemant stood on the mezzanine, looking down at the men and women who had made this day possible—the welders, the machinists, the engineers, the designers, every pair of hands that had contributed to the armored vehicle’s success. When he descended the stairs and stepped into the crowd, silence fell almost instantly, all eyes turning toward him.
"You’ve all worked harder than anyone could ask for"
Hemant began, his voice carrying through the vast hall.
"This victory doesn’t belong to me—it belongs to every one of you who put your sweat, your skill, and your loyalty into building what we achieved today. The Indian Army’s trust is not mine alone to bear, it is yours too. And today, I want you to know how much I value you"
With a nod to Raquel, crates were brought out—boxes filled with gifts, envelopes, and cash bonuses. Workers gasped, their faces lighting up as they realized what was happening.
One of the older workers, gray streaking his beard, stepped forward hesitantly.
"Sir, no one has ever treated us this way. We work because it is our duty, but today… you’ve made us feel like family"
The words were met with murmurs of agreement, heads nodding, and even a few moist eyes in the crowd. Hemant reached out, clasping the man’s shoulder.
"This company is nothing without you. If I am to lead, then it will be by standing with you, not above you"
The hall erupted in cheers, workers lifting their gifts high, clapping and chanting Hemant’s name. It was not the reverence born of fear, as Michael King had once commanded, nor the shallow respect of business circles that only cared for profits. This was something purer—loyalty earned through care and humility. Hemant allowed himself a rare smile, a genuine one, as he stood among his people, feeling for the first time in weeks that he belonged somewhere.
As the celebration carried on, Hemant leaned against a steel pillar, watching his employees laugh, sing, and embrace. For a brief moment, the nightmares of Sonarika’s betrayal and his enemies’s looming vengeance were pushed into the background. This, he realized, was his true strength—not vengeance, not fear, but the ability to create, to inspire, to give. And as long as moments like these existed, he knew he could endure the shadows of his past and forge something greater in the future.
THAT EVENING AT HOME
The apartment smelled faintly of craft glue and vinegar as Hemant stepped inside, the sound of bubbling and laughter drifting from the living room. Karan was crouched on the floor with a cardboard volcano, paint streaked on his cheeks, while Anjali sat beside him with a mixing bowl.
"Papa! Look!" Karan exclaimed, waving his hands.
"We’re going to make the lava flow tonight!"
Hemant dropped his briefcase by the door, the tension of the day melting just a little as he watched his son’s eyes sparkle.
"Ah, a science project" he said, crouching beside Karan.
"Let me guess—baking soda and vinegar eruption?"
Karan grinned.
"Yes! But Anju Didi says we need to add food coloring so it looks like real lava. Can you help me mix it?"
Hemant nodded, rolling up his sleeves as Anjali smiled warmly at the two of them. For a moment, the apartment didn’t feel like a fractured household—it felt whole, alive, and innocent.
From the kitchen doorway, Sonarika stood silently, holding a cup of tea. She watched as Hemant carefully guided Karan’s small hands to pour the vinegar without spilling. Her lips trembled slightly, but she steadied herself. Two weeks of therapy with Neha Bharadwaj had given her a kind of fragile clarity. She knew she had broken something that might never be repaired, but seeing this—her son with his father—reminded her what she still had left to preserve. Anjali, glancing up at her sister, caught the distant look in her eyes. For days, doubts had been simmering inside her—whispers of a tension between Hemant and Sonarika that no one would name. Still, she smiled and encouraged Karan.
"Careful, little scientist. Not too much, or your volcano will blow up the house"
The mixture fizzed violently, red foam spilling out of the cardboard crater. Karan clapped his hands, eyes wide with amazement.
"It works! It really works!"
Karan shouted, hugging Hemant tightly. Hemant chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair.
"Of course it works. You’re a natural engineer, just like your Papa’s team at YOD"
Sonarika stepped closer, her voice soft.
"You’re good with him… always have been"
Hemant looked up at her briefly, their eyes locking for a moment too long before he looked away.
"He deserves better than what life has thrown at him"
Hemant replied, his tone quiet but firm. The words were aimed at the air, yet Sonarika felt their sting. Later that night, the apartment had quieted. Karan slept peacefully, curled up with his toy dinosaur, while Hemant and Sonarika lay side by side on the same bed yet worlds apart. For days they had shared this silence, a gulf stretching wider with every night. But tonight, she spoke first.
"I heard about the government contract. Anju told me. I… I’m proud of you, Hemant"
His breath caught, then released.
"It feels good" he admitted slowly, staring at the ceiling.
"To be seen. To be appreciated. Especially now, when my life is a ruin"
She bit her lip. That awkward silence between them stayed for some time. After which it was Hemant's turn to break it.
"How's the therapy?"
"The therapy… it’s helping. Neha gave me books, exercises. I’m… finding ways to hold myself together"
Hemant turned his head toward her, his eyes shadowed.
"I don’t know if I should be glad or furious when I hear that"
"Why furious?" Her brows furrowed.
"Because the man in me who still loves you feels relief that you’re healing. But the man you betrayed… hates that you aren’t suffering more"
His voice broke on the last word, rawer than he wanted. Tears pricked her eyes. Instead of recoiling, she nodded slowly.
"I understand that. Because I hate myself too, Hemant. For what I’ve become. For throwing away the love you carried for me. I was blind. Ungrateful. I destroyed what we built with my own hands. And no matter what I do now, I can’t undo the damage. Not to you. Not to us"
Silence hung between them, broken only by the faint hum of the ceiling fan. Finally, he whispered,
"So… have you given up on us completely?"
Her chest tightened.
"A part of me wants to fight for us. But the truth I’ve begun to see in therapy is… I’m not the woman I once was. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. Until I find her again, I can’t pretend to be the partner you deserve. Right now, I am poison to you. And yet—”
Her voice trembled.
“You were always the best man I could have had. If I ever heal, if I ever find myself again, it will only be because of you"
His throat burned, but he forced the words out.
"My heart… it’s broken beyond repair, Sonarika. I can’t imagine love anymore. I have Karan. That’s all I need"
She wept silently into the dark.
"Then let our love live through him. Promise me, Hemant—no matter how deep this rift becomes—we will never let him feel abandoned. Never let him believe his parents failed him"
Hemant turned toward her, his face hard but his eyes softening. Slowly, he extended his hand.
"I promise"
Her fingers slipped into his, trembling, and for the first time in weeks they held each other—not as lovers, not as husband and wife, but as two shattered souls clutching at the only light left between them. And in that moment, the silence was not empty—it was full of grief, guilt, and a fragile pact to protect the boy who was the last echo of their once-beautiful love.
Hemant stirred awake in the morning, the weight of the previous night still pressing against his chest. Sonarika was already sitting up, her hair falling loosely across her shoulders as she folded Karan’s institute uniform on her lap. She didn’t look at Hemant, not immediately. For a moment, the silence was so delicate that it almost felt like peace. Almost.
Karan’s small footsteps broke the quiet as he burst into the room, holding a half-finished drawing. "Papa! Mumma! Look, I drew the volcano from last night! It even has lava!"
He climbed onto the bed, thrusting the paper forward with a proud grin. Hemant smiled faintly, pulling his son into his lap.
"It’s perfect. A true scientist and an artist"
Sonarika watched the two of them, her chest tightening at the sight. She forced a smile and reached over to adjust Karan’s collar.
"You’ll be the smartest in your class today" she said softly.
For a flicker of a second, the three of them looked like a family untouched by betrayal, untouched by bitterness.
"Papa, are you coming to see my project at institute later?"
Karan asked, eyes wide with expectation. Hemant hesitated, glancing toward Sonarika. She met his eyes, a silent plea resting there, urging him not to fail their son.
"Of course I’ll come" Hemant finally said, stroking Karan’s hair.
"I wouldn’t miss it for the world" The boy squealed with joy, hugging him tightly.
After Karan ran off to the bathroom to wash up, the air between Hemant and Sonarika grew heavy again. She folded the uniform with deliberate precision, avoiding his gaze.
"He still believes in us" she whispered, almost to herself.
"He sees us as whole"
Hemant leaned back against the headboard, his jaw tightening.
"That’s why we can’t let him see the cracks. Not now. Not ever"
His tone was sharp but resolute, carrying both love and pain. She looked up at him then, her eyes glistening.
"I don’t know how long I can keep pretending, Hemant. But I’ll do it. For him. He deserves at least that much"
For a moment, Hemant’s face softened. He wanted to say something—anything—that could bridge the abyss between them, but the words died in his throat. Instead, he simply nodded.
"We promised last night, didn’t we? We’ll hold the line for him. Whatever it takes"
Karan reappeared, his face wet from washing, his tie dangling awkwardly around his neck. Sonarika laughed faintly, the sound brittle yet genuine, as she knelt to fix it for him. Hemant watched quietly, remembering the woman she used to be—the one who laughed like that all the time, who filled the room with warmth. For a heartbeat, he almost believed she could be that woman again. As the three of them stepped out together—Hemant carrying Karan’s bag, Sonarika holding her son’s hand—the neighbors in the hallway smiled at the picture they made. To the world, they were still a family, still whole. Only inside their hearts did the fractures ache.
Hemant lingered by the door as Sonarika walked ahead with Karan. For all the betrayal, for all the hurt, a single thought rooted itself in his mind as he watched his son skip happily: This… this is why he cannot break. This is why he must endure. He closed the door gently behind him, the faintest whisper escaping his lips, unheard by either of them:
"For him, I’ll carry it all"
The institute's yard was alive with chatter and excitement, children running in circles with their half-finished projects clutched in small, eager hands. Cardboard solar systems, hand-drawn charts of plants, and crude models of bridges filled the classrooms. Hemant stood just outside the door of Karan’s classroom, adjusting his cufflinks as if they were armor. He wasn’t used to this world—the world of PTA meetings and childhood science fairs—but today he had promised. And Hemant never broke promises to his son.
Inside, Karan stood proudly beside his volcano, the paint still bright from the night before. His classmates whispered and pointed, impressed by the towering cardboard mountain. Sonarika sat quietly at the back of the room, her hands folded in her lap. Her heart raced when she saw Hemant step inside, the tall frame of him filling the doorway. Karan’s face lit up instantly, brighter than anything she’d seen in weeks.
"Papa! You came!" Karan shouted across the room, his teacher smiling at the enthusiasm.
Hemant gave a small wave, his stern expression softening into something almost childlike when he approached his son’s desk.
"Of course I did. I said I wouldn’t miss it, didn’t I?" he said, crouching down to Karan’s level.
The presentation began. Karan carefully explained the eruption, his small voice shaking at first, but strengthening when he glanced at his father.
"When vinegar mixes with baking soda, it makes carbon dioxide, which makes the volcano explode! Just like a real one!"
At that, the red foam bubbled up and spilled across the cardboard, drawing gasps and claps from his classmates.
Sonarika’s eyes blurred with tears. The look on Karan’s face—the pride, the joy—was something she thought she’d ruined forever. Yet here it was again, rekindled by Hemant’s presence. She caught herself staring at him, at the way his hand rested gently on their son’s shoulder, grounding him, steadying him. For a moment, she saw the man she had once fallen in love with, before ambition, betrayal, and heartbreak had corroded everything between them.
After the applause, the teacher approached Hemant.
"Your son has a brilliant mind. He explained everything so well. You must be proud, Mr. Kumar"
Hemant glanced at Karan, then at Sonarika at the back of the room. His voice was quiet, but firm.
"Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it"
When the class was dismissed, Karan rushed to both his parents, grabbing their hands in his small fists.
"Did you see? Did you both see? Everyone clapped for me!"
His joy was uncontainable, his laughter pure. Hemant and Sonarika exchanged a look over their son’s head—wordless, heavy, but not hostile. It was a look that said: For him, we will stand together, even if only in shadows. On the walk back to the car, Karan skipped ahead, humming to himself. Sonarika walked a step behind Hemant, finally breaking the silence.
"He shines the most when you’re there. You’re… the anchor he leans on"
Hemant’s jaw tightened. He didn’t look at her, but his words were steady.
"Then we’ll make sure he never feels that anchor slip. No matter what we’ve done to each other, he will never carry our sins"
Her voice trembled.
"I don’t deserve the grace you show me, Hemant. But I will give everything I have left to keep that promise with you. He deserves at least that much"
At that, Hemant finally turned to her, his eyes dark, wounded, but resolute.
"This isn’t about grace. This is about survival. For him"
Sonarika lowered her gaze, her throat tight, but for the first time in weeks she didn’t feel defensiveness or denial—only acceptance. Walking side by side, the fractured couple watched their son dart ahead, his small figure glowing in the morning sun. And in that fragile moment, both of them realized: Karan was not only their bond, he was their only redemption.
That night, the apartment was quieter than usual. The echoes of Karan’s laughter from the science fair still lingered in Hemant’s memory like a bittersweet song. His son had gone to bed early, exhausted from all the excitement, and Anjali had retired to her room. The living room was dimly lit by the glow of a single lamp, and the silence between Hemant and Sonarika was heavy enough to suffocate.
Hemant sat on the couch, a glass of water untouched in his hand, staring blankly at the shadows on the wall. Sonarika stood near the balcony, her arms crossed, as if bracing herself against an unseen wind. Finally, she broke the silence.
"He was so happy today" she said softly.
"I don’t remember the last time I saw him that alive"
Hemant’s voice was low, almost hoarse.
"Because for once, we were both there. Together. He doesn’t see the cracks yet. To him, everything is still whole"
He turned his head slowly, his eyes locking on her.
"But we know better"
Her lips trembled.
"Yes. We do" She paused, then whispered.
"It kills me, Hemant. Seeing him like that, knowing what I’ve done to us. Knowing how I destroyed the one thing that mattered most to you"
Hemant clenched his fist around the glass until his knuckles turned white.
"You didn’t just destroy us, Sonarika. You destroyed the part of me that believed love could survive anything. I look at you, and sometimes I want to remember the woman I fell in love with… but then I see the one who chose someone else over me. And it tears me apart"
Her eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t look awayShe finally spoke, her voice trembling, yet firm with the weight of confession.
"Hemant… I don’t see Vikram as a mistake" she said.
"He was someone who… filled the void I felt when you chased the future, when you chased the empire you’re building. He connected with me in my vulnerabilities, in the things I couldn’t speak out loud. With him, I felt seen. And in that connection… I lost myself in the passion of it"
The words struck Hemant like daggers. He lifted his eyes, hollow and pained, meeting hers. His voice came out sharp, almost mocking.
"So tell me then, Sonarika. What was I? A placeholder? A shadow you tolerated until your savior showed up?"
His voice cracked, bitter irony spilling out.
"Did I even exist in you at all?"
Tears welled in her eyes, but she shook her head.
"Don’t twist it that way. I always loved you, Hemant. Always. If Vikram had walked into my life in our early days, I wouldn’t even have looked at him. Back then, I was happy—fulfilled—living with you, in your love, in our world. But somewhere down the line, we were vulnerable and distant to each other. And in that distance, Vikram came near and reached me"
Hemant let out a hollow laugh, his lips curling in cruelty masking agony.
"And then he fulfilled you even more, isn’t it?"
The sting of his words made her chest tighten, but she steadied herself.
"No. Don’t say that. Vikram is Vikram, and you are you. There is no comparison. The fault isn’t in either of you—it’s in me. I am the culprit. I am the one who failed"
His face hardened, a deep shadow in his gaze.
"So is that why you’re leaving me for him? Because you’ve decided I’m the stronger one, the one who can handle the abandonment?"
At that, Sonarika broke, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Leaving you is the last thing I want, Hemant. Don’t you understand? I still love you. But I know, deep down, you’re stronger than Vikram. You’re mature, you’re resilient. If anyone can survive me, it’s you"
She choked on her words.
"I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish I could undo everything. But life doesn’t give us that mercy"
Hemant’s voice trembled, his pain boiling to the surface.
"And now you’re telling me to be open to love again? That maybe some other woman will come, make me whole again? Give Karan the sibling we planned for?"
His voice broke at the word sibling, a knife twisting deep in his chest.
"Do you know what that does to me, Sonarika? That was our dream. Our family. And now you throw it like it’s nothing but a consolation prize"
Her sobs grew heavier, guilt gnawing at her from within.
"It’s not nothing. It’s everything I destroyed. I still love you, Hemant. I want to fix us. But I’ve accepted—I can’t just wipe away the mess. It will take more than love to heal what I’ve broken. I don’t know if we’ll ever get back to what we had"
Hemant’s fists clenched as he tried to contain his rage.
"And yet Vikram is still in the picture. Still haunting us. Still holding a piece of you"
Her head dropped, her voice faint.
"In my last conversation with him, he told me he was willing to love me with half a heart… because even half a heart can beat. And those words—"
She faltered, pain etched across her face.
"—those words made me realize how broken I’ve become. How much I’ve allowed myself to shatter everything"
Hemant rose suddenly, towering over her, his face etched with fury and devastation.
"So that’s it, then? You admit you still hold him inside you? That after everything, you’d rather cling to the man who offered you half a heart than the one who gave you his entire soul?"
His voice broke.
"When you start a life with him, Sonarika, give me a fair warning. Because I’ll need to prepare myself for the next storm you’ll unleash"
Her knees nearly buckled under the weight of his words, her tears flowing freely.
"Hemant…" she whispered.
"I know I’m ruining you further. I know. And I can’t bear it. But still, I beg you—don’t close your heart forever. Don’t become a broken man for life. Not for me. Not for my sins"
Hemant turned away, his body trembling. He forced the words out, sharp with anger.
"Worry about your man, Sonarika. Not me"
She stepped closer, voice fragile but steady.
"You don’t understand… for me even right now , my man is you , it is still you!”
For a long moment, silence filled the space between them—thick, suffocating, unyielding. Finally, Hemant walked back to the bedroom, the weight of his pain dragging with him. Sonarika followed quietly, both of them lying down on opposite sides of the same bed, worlds apart, yet tied together by their son. In the darkness, their breaths were uneven, heavy with sorrow. And as they drifted into a restless sleep, the broken couple buried their pain beneath the fragile pact they made—for Karan, and only for him.
As the morning brightened the sky. The alarm buzzed, but Hemant was already awake, staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes. Beside him, Sonarika shifted, her back still turned to him, her breathing uneven—half-asleep, half-drifting in her thoughts. Their silence from the night before still clung to the air, heavy and unspoken. The sound of small footsteps broke the weight of the atmosphere. Karan, clutching his institute project in both hands, peeked into the bedroom.
"Papa? Mumma? Wake up! I want to show you how the volcano looks in the morning light!"
His voice carried the kind of unfiltered joy only a child could muster. Hemant forced a smile, sitting up.
"Coming, champ" he said softly, though his throat felt tight.
Sonarika turned too, wiping her eyes quickly so Karan wouldn’t notice. She pushed herself up and followed Hemant out of the room. In the dining area, Anjali was already preparing breakfast, humming faintly. She glanced at the couple and noticed the distance in their expressions, but she didn’t pry. Instead, she focused on Karan, who was busy placing his little volcano on the dining table.
"Look, Papa, Mumma! When I pour the red liquid, it looks real!" Karan exclaimed with pride.
Hemant crouched beside him, ruffling his hair.
"That’s brilliant, Karan. You’ve done a wonderful job"
His voice carried genuine warmth, the kind of love that no amount of heartbreak could erase. Sonarika bent down as well, her smile tender.
"I’m so proud of you, beta. You’re going to amaze everyone in college"
For a moment, both parents were side by side, their admiration for their son pulling them together despite the chasm in their hearts. Karan beamed at them.
"We should do more projects together! Papa, Mama, and me. Then it will always be fun"
His innocent words sliced through the tension. Hemant’s smile faltered for the briefest second, but he masked it quickly.
"Of course, champ. Always"
He said, though inside he wondered if 'always' was a lie he was telling his son—or himself. Breakfast began soon after, with Anjali serving parathas and tea. Karan chattered endlessly about his project, about how he wanted to build a bigger volcano next time, maybe even a solar system model. Sonarika laughed softly, engaging with him, while Hemant listened in silence, his eyes fixed on Karan but his mind adrift.
At one point, Karan turned to him and asked.
"Papa, will you come to the science fair next week? Mama already said yes"
The question hung heavy in the air. Hemant swallowed hard, nodding.
"I’ll be there, Karan. No matter what"
Across the table, Sonarika glanced at him. The weight of his words carried more than just a promise to his son—it was a vow, silent but clear, that despite everything between them, Hemant would never fail Karan. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and though filled with pain, there was also a fragile understanding. Anjali noticed the exchange, her suspicion quietly growing, but she kept her silence. Instead, she asked Karan about the institute, giving Hemant and Sonarika a chance to hide the storm behind their carefully chosen smiles. As breakfast ended, Karan ran off to pack his bag, leaving the two adults in the dining room with their unspoken truths. Sonarika touched the rim of her teacup, her voice low.
"He really brings us back, doesn’t he?"
Hemant nodded, his jaw tightening.
"He’s the only thing holding us together"
The words carried both comfort and sorrow, a truth neither of them could deny. In the quiet that followed, they shared one last look—two broken souls tethered by their child, trying to hold themselves together for the sake of his innocence.
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
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