Adultery Love Sex And War Part 1 : Age Of Darkness

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                               CHAPTER 24

Sonarika sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clutching the blanket like it was her last anchor. The curtains were drawn, sunlight barely spilling into the room. Her body still ached from the scratches, but it was her mind that bore the deeper wounds. The silence of the house felt heavier than any chains Dilawar had used.


Hemant walked in quietly, carrying a tray with soup and medicine. He placed it on the bedside table without saying a word, watching her. She noticed his gaze but could not meet it. 

"You should eat something" 

He said softly, his voice showing a mixture of care and distance.

She shook her head. 

"I can’t… not yet" Her lips quivered as she looked away, afraid he might touch her hand.

Hemant exhaled, sitting on the chair near her. 

"Sonarika, I know you’re hurting. But starving yourself won’t erase what happened" 

He tried to reach for her hand, but she instinctively pulled back. That flinch stabbed him deeper than her words ever could.

"I’m sorry" she whispered, her eyes welling up. 

"It’s not you. Every time someone touches me… I feel him again. Dilawar. His breath, his weight… I can’t escape it" 

Her voice cracked as she buried her face in her palms. Hemant clenched his jaw. He wanted to hold her, to assure her she was safe now, but he understood her recoil. 

"You don’t have to apologize. What he did… it’s unforgivable. You survived, that’s what matters"

From the doorway, Anjali cleared her throat softly. 

"She’s not alone, Bhaiya. We’re all here. She needs time" 

She gave her sister a fragile smile, hiding her own lingering fear. Sonarika looked at her sister, nodding faintly. 

"I feel like I’m ruining everyone’s life… yours, Hemant’s, even my son’s. He needs a mother who can hold him without shaking" 

Her voice trembled. Anjali stepped closer, squeezing her shoulder gently but carefully. 

"You are his mother Didi. Nothing changes that. He will heal because he sees you fighting too"

Sonarika’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. She glanced at the screen—Vikram. Her heart skipped. She silenced it quickly, hoping Hemant hadn’t noticed, but his eyes betrayed that he had. Hemant’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

"You can talk to him" he assured, the weight of betrayal mixing with his concern.

Sonarika looked down. 

"I don’t meet him. I only… talk. He listens. I can’t explain why, but sometimes I feel lighter when I speak to him"

Hemant leaned back, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Of course you do. I start to see that maybe he understands you more than I do" 

His voice broke slightly at the end. Tears streamed down her cheeks. 

"Its not like that Hemant. With you, I see the disappointment in your eyes. I see the hurt I caused. With him… I don’t see that. But I want to—I want to find my way back. I just don’t know how"

For a moment, the room was silent except for her sobs. Then Hemant spoke, his tone raw. 

"I don’t know if we’ll make it, Sonarika. But I do know one thing—Dilawar doesn’t get to win. Don’t let his shadow destroy what’s left of you"

She lifted her head slowly, trembling but resolute. 

"Then stay. Just… stay near. Even if I can’t let you in right now. I need to learn to breathe again before I can love again"

Hemant nodded, his eyes moist, understanding the fragile hope in her words. He didn’t reach for her this time. Instead, he stayed seated beside her, silent but present—the way she needed him to be.


THE NEXT DAY AT NEHA'S CLINIC


The next afternoon, Sonarika sat in Dr. Neha Bharadwaj’s office, her hands clutching a tissue that was already crumpled from nervous twisting. The faint smell of lavender in the room tried to calm her, but her heart was a storm.

Dr. Neha leaned forward, her tone steady yet warm. 

"You’re safe here, Sonarika. Nothing you say will be judged. Tell me what you’ve been carrying since that night"

Sonarika closed her eyes tightly. 

"Every time I close my eyes, he’s there. Dilawar. His eyes, his smell, the way he pinned me down. I feel his teeth on my skin even though I know he’s gone" 

Her voice shook as tears slid down her face.

Neha handed her another tissue, nodding gently. 

"Your body remembers trauma even when your mind tells you it’s over. These flashbacks are natural. They’re not a sign of weakness, they’re a sign of survival"

"But it doesn’t feel like survival" Sonarika whispered. 

"It feels like I’m still his prisoner. Hemant tries to hold me, and I jolt like he’s hurting me. My son reaches for me, and I freeze. What kind of mother does that make me?"

Neha softened her tone. 

"It makes you a mother in pain. And pain doesn’t erase love. Your son doesn’t see your fear as rejection—he just sees that you’re hurting. Have you told Hemant this?"

Sonarika nodded faintly. 

"I tried. But every time I see his face, I see what I’ve done to him too. The affair, the divorce papers… and now this trauma. I can’t tell if I’m destroying him or if he’s just too strong to break in front of me"

"Do you want to heal with Hemant?" Neha asked carefully. 

"Or do you see your healing away from him?"

The question hit Sonarika like a stone. She hesitated, wiping her tears. 

"I don’t know. Part of me wants to disappear into Vikram’s words because they don’t carry judgment. But Hemant… he stayed. He took care of me, of our son. I don’t deserve that, but I crave it"

Neha leaned back, studying her. 

"Trauma makes us crave safety. Vikram may feel like an escape, but safety and healing might actually lie with the people who’ve held you even when you pushed them away"

Sonarika trembled, her voice dropping to a whisper. 

"But every time Hemant touches me, I feel Dilawar’s claws again. How can I let him in without reliving it?"

Neha’s eyes softened. 

"We take it step by step. Right now, don’t think of intimacy as touch. Think of it as presence. Hemant doesn’t need to hold you to love you. If he can sit beside you while you cry, that’s intimacy too. We’ll build from there"

Sonarika’s lips parted, a fragile breath escaping. 

"You really think I can come back from this? That one day I won’t see Dilawar in every shadow?"

"Yes" Neha said firmly. 

"But only if you stop fighting the memory as your enemy. Acknowledge it. Name it. You survived him, Sonarika. That means you’re stronger than the nightmare. And with support, the memory will lose its grip"

For the first time in days, Sonarika allowed herself a flicker of hope. She leaned back in the chair, her tears slowing. 

"Maybe… maybe I can learn to breathe again. Not for me, but for my son. And maybe for Hemant too"

Neha smiled softly. 

"Not maybe. You will. And every session, we’ll work until you no longer flinch at the shadows of the past, but walk toward the light of your present"


FEW DAYS LATER AT MEGHNA'S APARTMENT


Sonarika sat curled on the sofa in Meghna’s living room, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders though the evening wasn’t particularly cold. Her voice was low, cracked from nights of sleeplessness. 

"I thought coming home from the hospital would make things easier… but it hasn’t. Dilawar is still in my head, Meghna. Every time Hemant comes near me, I feel trapped again"

Meghna leaned forward, her eyes soft, her hand resting over Sonarika’s. 

"Shh… you’ve been through hell, Sonarika. It’s natural to feel this way. You don’t need to rush yourself" 

Her tone dripped with empathy, but behind her gaze, her mind was already moving pieces across a hidden board. Sonarika sighed, trembling. 

"I try so hard not to push Hemant away. He’s done so much—he’s been there for our son, he’s worked with the cops, he cut down Dilawar’s people at the source. And yet, when he touches me, I just… break"

Meghna tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint, understanding smile. 

"Because safety isn’t about who wins battles in the outside world. It’s about who makes you feel whole inside. And right now, Hemant doesn’t give you that… Vikram does"

Sonarika’s eyes flickered, conflicted. 

"But I haven’t even seen Vikram since… since everything. I only talk to him. If I met him, I’d react the same way I do with Hemant. I’d panic. I know I would"

Meghna’s fingers tightened just slightly over hers, her voice a velvet whisper. 

"No, you wouldn’t. Do you know why? Because when you were trapped, it was Vikram who came charging after you, heart on fire. Hemant? He went the legal way, safe behind walls of law enforcement. Admirable, yes, but not what your soul needed in that moment"

Sonarika frowned, pulling her hand back, hurt flashing in her eyes. 

"That’s unfair, Meghna. Hemant fought in his own way. He risked his career, his name, everything. Don’t downplay what he did just because he wasn’t the one kicking down Dilawar’s door"

Meghna leaned back gracefully, unruffled. 

"I’m not downplaying him, Sonarika. I’m only holding up a mirror. Hemant is the man of law and order. But your heart… your body… they still crave the fire Vikram brings. Don’t mistake that truth for betrayal. It’s just who you are"

Sonarika covered her face with her palms, her voice muffled. 

"You make it sound like I want him. But I don’t know if I want anyone right now. My body feels… broken. My heart feels like ash"

Meghna’s tone softened, slipping deeper into her role as confidante. 

"Broken things don’t need order to heal, they need passion. You don’t need Hemant’s delicacy, you need Vikram’s strength. That’s why you keep talking to him, isn’t it? Because deep down, he makes you feel safe and alive again"

Sonarika’s breath hitched. Her heart pulled in two directions, guilt gnawing at her chest. 

"But if I follow that… won’t I lose Hemant completely? And what about my son? What if I ruin everything again?"

Meghna reached for her hand once more, her thumb stroking it with deceptive warmth. 

"Sonarika, you can’t heal anyone else if you’re in pieces yourself. Your son needs a mother who feels alive, not just surviving. Hemant will go on with his duty, his law, his battles. But you—your soul will wither unless you reach for what you truly desire"

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock. Then Meghna’s smile grew a shade brighter, her eyes glinting with hidden triumph. 

"Speaking of which… Vikram’s birthday is this weekend. He invited me, of course. But imagine his face if you walked in. The joy, the relief… the love in his eyes. He needs you there"

Sonarika stiffened, her mind spiraling. 

"I… I don’t know. I can’t face him like this. I’m not ready. I’m terrified of what I’ll feel if I see him"

Meghna cupped her cheek tenderly, a picture of sisterly affection masking venomous intent. 

"You don’t need to decide now. Just think about it. Sometimes the path forward isn’t about logic, it’s about surrendering to what your heart already knows. And your heart, Sona, beats faster every time you hear his name"


As Sonarika lowered her gaze, trembling and confused, Meghna turned her head slightly, hiding the victorious curve of her lips. Inside, she smiled. Another step closer, she thought. Another thread tightening around Jagjeet’s precious daughter.


As Sonarika left. The apartment door clicked shut behind her, leaving Meghna alone in the quiet. She lingered for a moment by the window, her eyes following Sonarika’s car as it drove away. Then, slowly, the warmth on her face dissolved, her smile curling into something colder, sharper. She walked to the mirror on the far wall, studying her own reflection. 

"Poor Sonarika" she murmured softly, her voice laced with mock sympathy. 

"So fragile, so lost. Always looking for someone to tell her who she is" 

Her eyes glittered with cruel amusement. Her mind slipped back to that cliff years ago, when Samhita had screamed as she fell, her hands reaching out for help that never came. Meghna’s lips curved into a thin, chilling smile. 

"One push was all it took. Jagjeet thought he could bury me in shame, but he buried his daughter instead. And no one ever suspected"

Her chest rose with a quiet laugh, bitter and triumphant. 

"Samhita was only the beginning. But Sonarika… oh, Sonarika is the masterpiece. To watch her unravel piece by piece, to watch her clutch at the very hands that tighten the noose… it’s delicious"

She paced the room, her heels clicking softly on the marble floor. 

"Jagjeet destroyed my mother, left her to rot while he played king in his golden house. And now, his perfect little princess will taste every ounce of that pain. Affair, betrayal, captivity, nightmares—she’ll choke on them all until there’s nothing left but ruin"

Her laughter grew low, throaty. 

"And the best part? She still calls me her best friend. The only one she trusts. The irony is almost poetic"

Meghna picked up the wine glass from the coffee table, swirling the red liquid idly. 

"Hemant tries so hard to save her, to play the noble husband. But he will never be enough. I’ll make sure of it. Every time he gets close, I’ll remind her of Vikram. Every time she tries to breathe, I’ll whisper that she still craves him"

She took a sip, savoring the taste, imagining Sonarika’s confusion festering deeper. 

"It won’t be long before she breaks again. And when she does, Jagjeet’s world will collapse all over again. His daughter, ruined by her own choices, by her own weakness. unlike her young and innocent sister"

Her eyes darkened, a shadow flickering across her face as she looks at an old photo of Jagjeet. 

"Do you hear me, father? From wherever you rot, do you see me now? You thought you could erase me, deny me, shame me. But it is I who will erase you. Through her"

She set the glass down with a sharp clink and leaned back against the sofa, stretching her arms out like a queen in her throne. 

"Vikram’s birthday will be the next step. I’ll push her into his arms again, remind her how alive she feels with him. Hemant will watch helplessly, just like Samhita did before the fall"

A cruel smile touched her lips as she whispered to herself. 

"And Sonarika won’t even realize I’m the hand guiding her down the same path. Not until it’s too late"

Her phone buzzed on the table, Vikram’s name flashing across the screen. Meghna’s smirk widened as she answered with a silken tone. 

"Vikram… yes, I spoke to her. Don’t worry. She’s thinking about you more than she admits. She will be there for your special day making your night. I promise"

When the call ended, she leaned back, closing her eyes, satisfied. 

"The game is moving, piece by piece. And soon, my revenge will be complete. Jagjeet’s daughter will fall, just not as quick as Samhita did!"

The silence of the room settled again, but it was no longer the quiet of peace—it was the quiet before the storm, the kind that waits patiently before swallowing everything whole.


THE EVENING OF VIKRAM'S BIRTHDAY


The city skyline glittered outside the car window as Sonarika sat in silence, her pulse thrumming against her throat. She hadn’t wanted to come, but Meghna had insisted—had even chosen her outfit. The crimson saree hugged her curves, the silk soft against her skin, yet it burned her with memory. It was the saree Vikram had bought her during their affair, a forbidden gift she had sworn never to wear again. And now, here she was, wrapped in it like a secret reborn.

"You’re trembling" 

Meghna murmured, adjusting Sonarika’s pallu before they stepped out of the car. 

"Don’t. You look breathtaking. Vikram won’t be able to take his eyes off you"

Sonarika swallowed hard, her palms damp. 

"That’s exactly what I’m afraid of"

Inside the banquet hall, the air buzzed with laughter and music. Chandeliers sparkled above, and the scent of roses mingled with expensive perfume. Sonarika’s heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she followed Meghna. Every step felt heavier, as though the saree itself was dragging her down into the past she wanted to escape. And then she saw him. Vikram stood across the room, tall and magnetic in a charcoal suit, laughter spilling from his lips as he greeted guests. But when his eyes lifted and found her, everything else seemed to dissolve. His smile faltered, his breath caught—she could see it even from afar.

Heat rushed to Sonarika’s cheeks. She wanted to turn away, to hide behind her shawl, but the saree clung to her like a confession. She could almost feel Dilawar’s hands on her, the bite of his claws—but Vikram’s gaze pulled her elsewhere, into a space of safety and danger all at once. Meghna leaned close, whispering. 

"Look at him, Sona. That’s not just a man seeing a guest. That’s a man seeing you. Only you"

Her knees weakened as Vikram began walking toward her, cutting through the crowd with single-minded focus. The noise of the party dulled around her until it was just his footsteps, steady, deliberate, carrying him closer.

"Soni…" 

His voice was rough when he finally stood before her, his eyes roaming over her saree with a mixture of longing and disbelief. 

"You wore it. The one I—" He stopped himself, lowering his tone. 

"You’re even more beautiful than I remember"

She looked down, her fingers twisting into the fabric. 

"I shouldn’t have worn it. It feels wrong. But Meghna said…" 

Her words trailed, shame and guilt lacing every syllable. Vikram shook his head, his gaze unwavering. 

"It doesn’t feel wrong to me. It feels like fate. Like you were meant to be here tonight. Like you were meant to remind me that some things never die"

Her chest tightened. 

"Vicky… I’m broken. Every touch reminds me of him. Dilawar. I don’t know if I’ll ever be normal again"

He softened, his voice thick with emotion. 

"You’re not broken, Sona. You’re wounded. There’s a difference. Wounds heal. Scars remind you that you survived. And if it takes forever, I’ll wait with you until you believe that again"


Her eyes blurred with tears. For a moment, she wanted to collapse into his arms, to drown in the promise of safety he offered. But then Hemant’s face flashed in her mind—his tired eyes, his quiet support, his hands that had held their son through sleepless nights. Her heart twisted violently between two worlds. From the bar, Meghna raised her glass, her lips curving into a secret smile. She had chosen the saree for this very reason, to bind Sonarika’s heart tighter to Vikram, to deepen her confusion until the cracks tore her heart apart. Watching the flicker of longing in Sonarika’s eyes, Meghna knew the trap was working.

"Stay" Vikram whispered, his breath brushing her ear. 

"At least for tonight. Let me see you smile again, even if just once"

Sonarika trembled, the music swelling around her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to run or to surrender. But as Meghna’s approving gaze burned into her from across the room, she knew one thing—she was willingly walking to the same warmth that ruined her marriage. The night stretched on, and Sonarika found herself caught in a strange haze. At first, the noise, the lights, the pressing crowd all made her chest tighten. But each time Vikram spoke to her, each time his hand brushed lightly past hers without forcing touch, she felt a little more at ease. It was as though his presence dulled the claws of her nightmares. They drifted to a quieter corner of the hall, away from the loud chatter. Vikram leaned against the wall, his eyes soft. 

"See? You’re still standing. No ghosts. Just you and me. And you look alive again"

Sonarika’s lips trembled. 

"Alive… I haven’t felt that in weeks. When Hemant touches me, I go cold, I shatter. But here with you… it’s different. I don’t see Dilawar’s face"

A tender smile tugged at his mouth. 

"That’s because I’m not him. I’m not here to take. I’m here to give. All of me, if you’ll let me"

She swallowed hard, her breath shaky. A part of her screamed to pull away, to remember her vows, her son, the fragile threads still binding her marriage. But another part, the wounded part desperate for warmth, leaned toward Vikram as if drawn by gravity. They wandered toward the gallery balcony, the world outside painted in starlight and city glow. The breeze carried the scent of jasmine from the gardens below, cooling her heated skin. Sonarika rested her palms on the railing, staring out at the horizon.

"It feels… lighter out here" she whispered. 

"Like the air doesn’t choke me"

Vikram stepped behind her, careful not to touch. 

"Because you’re not trapped anymore. You’re free. With me, you’ll always be free"

Her heart raced. She turned slowly, their faces inches apart, his breath mingling with hers. For a fleeting second, Dilawar’s sneer tried to creep into her mind—but it dissolved like mist under Vikram’s gaze. In its place came warmth, safety, and a dangerous spark of desire.

"Vikram…" she whispered, torn. 

"If I do this… if I give in… what does that make me?"

His hand finally lifted, cupping her cheek with the gentlest of touches, not a demand but an offering. 

"It makes you human. It makes you someone who deserves love, not scars"

Her eyes closed, and she let herself lean into him. Their lips met in a tentative kiss that quickly deepened, years of longing and forbidden fire igniting between them. Her hands clutched his shirt, his arms wrapped carefully around her waist, and for the first time in weeks, the fear in her body melted into aching need. Inside the hall, near the bar, Meghna swirled her wine glass slowly, her eyes gleaming as she watched the couple through the open gallery doors. The sight of Sonarika melting into Vikram’s arms was everything she had orchestrated. A wicked smile curved her lips as she raised the glass in a silent toast.

"To you, Jagjeet" she whispered under her breath. 

"Your perfect daughter, drowning in her own desires. Just as I planned"

As Vikram and Sonarika lost themselves in their kiss, Meghna drank deeply, savoring her victory. Every stolen touch, every whispered breath, was another thread unraveling the fragile fabric of Sonarika’s life—and Meghna reveled in the slow, delicious ruin.


THAT NIGHT


The clock in the hallway read past midnight when Sonarika slipped her spare key into the lock and pushed the door open. The house was shrouded in darkness, silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. She paused at the threshold, her heart tightening. Hemant always kept the living room lamp on for her, waiting no matter how late she returned. Tonight, it was different. She closed the door softly behind her, her saree brushing against her legs as she stepped inside. The emptiness pressed against her chest like a weight. The familiar comfort of knowing he’d be there—alert, weary, but waiting—was gone.


Her heels clicked against the floor as she moved toward the bedroom, each sound magnified in the stillness. Her son slept peacefully, his small chest rising and falling in rhythm, his arm dbangd over a stuffed toy. Relief washed through her, followed quickly by guilt. She had been at a party, lost in another man’s arms, while her son dreamed alone. Beside him at the adjoining bed, Anjali lay curled beneath a blanket, her face calm for once, untroubled by the fears that had haunted them all. A pang of gratitude stabbing her heart. Her sister had endured so much, and yet still stood by her side.


Finally, she reached the master bedroom. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open. Hemant was there, lying on his side of the bed, already asleep. His arm was tucked beneath his pillow, his face turned away from her. The sight stopped her cold. She stood in the doorway, unable to move. This was new. Hemant never slept before she returned. No matter how strained things had become, no matter how bitter the silence between them, he had always waited. Tonight, he hadn’t. Tonight, he had let her come home to darkness.


Her throat tightened, and tears threatened to spill. Quietly, she slipped into the bathroom and changed out of the crimson saree, folding it away as if trying to hide her sin. She put on a plain nightdress, washed her face, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red, her lips swollen from Vikram’s kiss. Shame burned her cheeks. When she finally slid into bed, she did so carefully, not wanting to wake him. She lay on her side, staring at his back, the steady rise and fall of his breathing. A wall of silence stood between them, thicker than stone. She wanted to reach out, to touch his shoulder, to whisper that she was sorry—but her hand froze halfway, retreating into the safety of her blanket.


Her mind replayed the night, the contrast between Vikram’s burning gaze and Hemant’s turned back. Between desire and duty. Between fire and ash. She had chosen both, and now she was losing them all the same. The ache of separation grew heavier with each breath. For the first time, she wondered if Hemant was truly letting go—if he was learning to live without waiting for her. The thought made her chest ache with a sorrow deeper than Dilawar’s shadow, deeper than any wound he had left on her body.


She closed her eyes, but sleep would not come. Instead, tears slipped silently across her cheeks, soaking the pillow. The bed felt colder, emptier, though Hemant was right beside her. The truth was undeniable: she was losing him, piece by piece. And in the quiet of the darkened house, the guilt and grief pressed down until she could barely breathe. For all the passion Vikram had sparked, it was this silence—Hemant’s silence—that broke her heart the most.



THE NEXT MORNING


The sun filtered gently through the sheer curtains, painting the bedroom in pale gold. Sonarika stirred awake, her eyes heavy from the restless night. She expected the usual silence—Hemant brooding at the dresser, his tie knotted in bitterness, his eyes cast away from hers. But what she saw instead stopped her breath. Hemant stood before the mirror, buttoning a silk blue shirt, its sleeves rolled neatly up to his elbows. He had shaved clean, his chin sharp and smooth, and his hair—usually slicked back with gel until it was rigid—fell loosely around his forehead, showing its natural length and quiet elegance.

For a moment, Sonarika blinked, almost convinced she was looking at another man. This wasn’t the brooding husband weighed down by betrayal and heartbreak. This was someone lighter, someone almost radiant.

Anjali passed the doorway, pausing in surprise. 

"Bhaiya… wow" she exclaimed, grinning. 

"You look… different. In a good way"

Hemant turned, the faintest of smiles on his lips. 

"New responsibilities are coming in for YOD. We’re expanding. It can’t just be a defense manufacturing company anymore. I see YOD Enterprises in the future. If the company is evolving, so should I"

He adjusted his cuffs casually, his tone steady, not defensive, not bitter. Just certain. Sonarika sat up on the bed, watching, confusion swirling in her chest. For months he had carried his heartbreak like armor, mocking her whenever he could, reminding her of her betrayal with sharp words. But lately, there was no trace of that. Anjali stepped further in, teasing. 

"Well, the change suits you. You’ve gone from brooding working man to… charming Business Magnate"

Hemant chuckled under his breath, then reached for a magazine on the dresser. 

"Speaking of charming" he said, tossing it to Anjali. 

"Page thirteen"

Curious, Anjali flipped through until her eyes widened. 

"Oh my god, this is you!" 

She held up the bridal magazine, where Hemant posed in a cream sherwani, regal yet effortlessly stylish. Sonarika’s jaw slackened. She walked over, peering at the page as though it might vanish. 

"Hemant… you never told me"

He shrugged lightly, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. 

"Manish Malhotra asked me for a favor after his party earlier this year. This was it. I didn’t think it mattered enough to mention"

Anjali burst into laughter. 

"Didn’t matter? You’re in a bridal magazine, Bhaiya! people about to marry across India are probably circling this page for inspiration"

Sonarika let out a soft, reluctant laugh of her own. 

"I’ll admit, you look incredible in it. And right now… this new look… you don’t just wear it, you own it" 

Her voice softened, betraying her surprise. Hemant glanced at her briefly, a small smile tugging at his lips, but he said nothing more. Instead, he turned his attention to Karan, who was padding sleepily into the room. Hemant scooped him up, kissing his forehead, ruffling his hair with easy warmth. As he walked toward the door with Karan perched on his arm, he looked back at Anjali. 

"Change isn’t always bad, Anju. Sometimes, it’s exactly what’s needed" 

He winked lightly before stepping out. Sonarika stood frozen, the laughter fading from her lips. Something heavy twisted in her stomach. This Hemant was unfamiliar, untethered from the shadows she had grown used to. A part of her wanted to smile at his transformation, another part ached at the thought that maybe—just maybe—he was truly moving on. Sonarika sat back on the bed, her fingers resting on the bridal magazine. Her eyes lingered on his photo, her mind torn. Was this new Hemant a man rediscovering himself? Or was he becoming someone she could no longer reach?

And for the first time since her betrayal, she asked herself a question that frightened her: was Hemant’s healing leaving her behind?

                                                                                                                                                                                                       (TO BE CONTD)