30-09-2025, 11:09 PM
(CHAPTER CONTD)
AT YOD INDUSTRIES
The lobby of YOD Industries welcomed him as Hemant Kumar walked in, his polished shoes clicking against the concrete. There was something different in his stride this morning—no hesitation, no lingering shadows of the past, only resolve. The rumble of trucks and the metallic clatter of workers filled the air, but to him it sounded like the heartbeat of a growing empire.
At the bay, a supervising army personnal gave a crisp salute.
"Mr. Kumar, the final shipment of weaponized ATVs is loaded. Dispatch to Pune base will begin within the hour"
Hemant nodded.
"Ensure the drivers get full security clearance. No lapses. This should be the benchmark for all future military dealings"
"Yes, sir" the personnal replied.
"We’ve doubled the convoy guard"
Crossing into the assembly section, Hemant was greeted by the thunder of welding torches and the grind of machinery. The skeletal frame of the Indigenous BTR stood tall under floodlights, with engineers clustered around consoles.
"Morning, Raghav" Hemant called as he approached the lead engineer.
"Morning, sir" Raghavendra replied, holding up a tablet.
"Stress tests are complete. The chassis handled 40% above projected load. We’re moving to suspension alignment. Prototype could be ready next quarter"
Hemant glanced at the figures.
"That’s within our timeline. But don’t chase speed at the cost of integrity. A single failure in trials will set us back years"
Another engineer joined in.
"Weapon integration modules are underway. The 20mm autocannon system has cleared safety checks. Next is the rpg-lock interface"
"Focus on compatibility with existing army systems. No soldier should waste time adapting to a platform that’s supposed to protect him"
Hemant replied evenly.
From across the floor, Vaibhav, YOD’s software engineer, hurried over with Kamya beside him.
"Sir, we’ve just received ANVIL’s new blueprints" Vaibhav said, showing Hemant his screen.
"Two handheld weapon designs. They are looking for your input. Wants YOD to integrate their specifics in it"
Hemant gestured.
"Leave the files on my desk. I’ll review today. Keep your team ready for revisions"
Kamya added.
"One more update. Shipments of Alignment Knots are up by 18%. Two new clients signed last week. I’ve already expanded production schedules"
Hemant looked at her with a brief approving nod.
"Good work, Kamya. Track client retention closely. Growth means nothing if we can’t sustain it"
"I’ll prepare a retention matrix" she assured.
By the time Hemant reached his office, the desk was neatly arranged, ANVIL’s blueprints placed dead center. He paused, running a finger along the schematic lines. This was where imagination met reality, and reality had deadlines. A knock at the door announced Raquel. He entered with a slim folder.
"Bhaijaan. I’ve overseen their holdings. The ledgers, the businesses—now under your control"
Hemant raised an eyebrow.
"Details"
Raquel flipped open the folder.
"Two electronics shops, garment warehouses, three small-scale factories, and some residential property stakes. All now under your watch. No resistance so far"
Hemant leaned forward.
"And the victims? People forced into debts or pushed out of their shops?"
Raquel hesitated, then said.
"Most are still tied up in unpaid balances. Some lost everything. Families are… fractured"
Hemant’s response was steady.
"Here’s what we do. Cancel their debts. Return the stolen shops to original owners. For those without resources, give them a chance to start fresh under YOD’s mentorship. We’ll formalize this through legal channels—no gray areas"
Raquel scribbled notes.
"Understood. Transparent handovers only"
Hemant continued.
"Regarding Dilawar’s Colony, I’ve spoken with the residents. We’ll rebuild the infrastructure—housing, sanitation, even the college. In return, they’ll commit to a community cooperative tied to YOD’s ecosystem. It’s investment, not takeover"
Raquel looked up.
"That’ll win you long-term loyalty"
"It’ll give them dignity" Hemant corrected.
As Raquel closed the folder, he added.
"Glad to see you becoming true to yourself Bhaijaan. You’re reorganizing entire communities"
Hemant stood, moving toward the glass wall.
"Communities are the foundation of markets. You take care of people, and they’ll take care of the enterprise. That’s how stability is built"
Through the glass, Hemant observed the movement below—trucks departing, sparks flying, workers focused. It was an intricate system, each part feeding into the other. What once was his personal ambition now looked like the skeleton of an empire.
He spoke softly, almost to himself: "This is just the beginning"
THAT EVENING
Hemant was on his way to an important meet when his SUV started to behave erratically. He called a mechanic after failure to restart it multiple times. He was standing at the roadside with the bonnet up to see if there is any other ways. He instead arranged for the vehicle to be towed so he stood at the roadside to hitch any ride. That is when Disha was riding to that road in her scooty.
Disha pulled her scooty closer to the curb, her eyes widening as she recognized the tall, commanding figure fussing with the hood of his car. It was her former boss, now a high-profile industrialist. Her pulse quickened, and her voice trembled slightly as she called out,
"Boss… need help?"
Hemant straightened, his sharp jaw catching the sunlight, and smiled faintly.
"Disha? Well, look at that. Yes, seems my ride doesn’t want to cooperate today. I need to get near Elphinston Street. Still working at Quadron?"
She nodded, suddenly aware of how small she felt under his gaze.
"Of course. I am the owner of your last cabin remember?"
She hesitated, then tilted her head.
"If you want… I could drop you"
"Really?" His eyes softened, though amusement danced there.
"On this scooty of yours? Fine then. I trust you. Let’s go"
He slid behind her, his thighs brushing against her hips. The faintest touch, yet Disha’s body erupted in awareness. Starting the scooty, she tried to steady her hands, but her mind was racing. She could feel the solid weight of him behind her, the warmth of his chest close to her back. The heat of his presence was intoxicating. She gave a nervous laugh.
"Just so you know, I drive fast"
Hemant leaned closer, his breath grazing her ear.
"It’s a scooty, Disha. The only thing I’m afraid of is you wobbling us into traffic"
His teasing tone did little to calm her—it only made her skin prickle with anticipation. As they weaved through the street, she felt every shift of his body. The firmness of his thighs pressing against her, the subtle grip of his hands on the side seat. Her imagination betrayed her—images of his hands holding her waist, pulling her back into him. Suddenly, she pressed the brakes sharper than needed. Hemant’s body pressed flush against her, his chest molding into her back, his hand instinctively grasping her hip for balance. The touch was fleeting but deliberate enough to send a shiver running down her spine.
"Disha" he said lowly, almost a warning, though a trace of laughter colored his tone.
"Trying to give me a heart attack?"
His thumb had grazed her waist before he pulled his hand away, but the ghost of that touch burned hotter than fire. She swallowed hard, her lips parting.
"Maybe I wanted to see how well you’d hold on" she teased, her voice softer than intended.
Inside, she was a storm—her body throbbing with the dangerous thrill of his closeness. The temptation was unbearable. When he leaned slightly forward to check the road, his chest brushed against her back again, firmer this time. She gasped, barely keeping control of the scooty. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to stop, to let the moment unravel into something forbidden. But before she could act on her reckless desire, Hemant tapped her shoulder.
"Here. Stop here, this is my stop"
Reluctantly, she braked and he stepped off, adjusting his shirt as though nothing had happened.
"Thanks, Disha. You drive… better than you claim"
He smiled and walked away. Disha stayed frozen for a second, breathing hard, her thighs pressed tight on the scooty seat. As she rode to her office, every bump in the road only reminded her of the heat she still carried.
By the time Disha parked her scooty at Quadron, her legs were trembling. She had never felt such fire before from something so simple—his hand brushing her waist, his chest pressing into her back. Every nerve in her body buzzed. She hurried to her cabin, shutting the door quickly, her breath still unsteady.
The moment she dropped into her chair, she froze. This was his chair once. His desk. His office. She ran her fingers along the polished wooden table, as if she could still feel the echoes of him there. The room seemed haunted by his presence—his laughter, his calm voice, the way he used to lean back in this very seat while giving instructions. She leaned back, closing her eyes. The fantasy began to creep in. She pictured Hemant walking into the cabin now, not as her former boss but as the man who had just set her body ablaze. She imagined him shutting the door firmly behind him, that commanding aura swallowing the room whole.
In her mind, he came up to her desk, leaning forward on his hands, his sharp eyes locking into hers.
"So you still sit in my chair?" he would say, voice low and heavy.
"Do you even know what I used to imagine when I was in it?"
Her breath grew heavier as she envisioned herself biting her lip, challenging him.
"Maybe I’ve imagined it too" she whispered back in her fantasy.
She saw him circling the desk, standing behind her, his strong hands sliding down her shoulders, pressing into her arms, before gripping the edges of the chair. She imagined him bending lower, his chest against her back, just like on the scooty—but this time no accident, no excuse. His breath hot on her neck, lips grazing her skin. She tilted her head to the side in her fantasy, offering herself, desperate for him to claim her. The fantasy grew bolder—his hands pushing aside the files on her desk, his voice rougher now.
"I thought about bending you over this table so many times, Disha"
She gasped at her own imagination, thighs pressing tightly together under her skirt as heat pooled low in her belly. In her mind, she let it happen. She pictured herself bent over the desk, her palms flat against the wood, while Hemant pressed against her from behind. She could feel his strength, the weight of him, the hunger that matched her own. The thought alone made her shiver with delicious ache.
Her lips parted as she let the fantasy play out—his hands running along her waist, pulling her hips back into him, his voice deep and unrestrained. She thought of his suit jacket falling carelessly onto the floor, his belt unbuckling, and the raw urgency of him taking her without hesitation, right here in the cabin where they once pretended to be nothing more than boss and secretary. Disha’s breath hitched as she gripped the arms of the chair, lost in the vividness of her own mind. Every imagined word, every imagined touch, was too real. She could almost smell his cologne, almost hear the faint growl in his throat when she whimpered his name.
She shifted in her seat, thighs rubbing together for relief, her body betraying how deep the fantasy had carried her. Her skin was hot, her chest heaving. She almost hated how badly she wanted him—how much power he still had over her even in absence. Just then, the sharp knock on her cabin door jolted her awake.
"Disha, came early?" came Priyanka’s voice.
Disha straightened instantly, smacking her forehead lightly with her palm, forcing a laugh to cover the flush on her face.
"Yes , Mam"
"Alright , come to my cabin with the project presentation. I need to make some minor changes"
Priyanka walked away confused by Disha's state.
"On my way, ma’am"
But as she picked up her pen and the necessary paperwork of the project, the truth remained—no matter how much she buried it, Hemant still owned her thoughts, and her body was still aching from the fantasy she had spun around him.
FEW DAYS LATER
The room was bathed in warm light, the faint scent of lavender filling the air. Dr. Neha sat with her notebook balanced on her lap, her posture calm but attentive. Sonarika, wrapped in a soft cream shawl, sat opposite her, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the fabric. She looked weary, her eyes swollen as if she hadn’t slept properly for days.
"Tell me what’s been on your mind since our last session" Neha prompted gently.
Sonarika exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping to the carpet.
"It’s Hemant. He’s… changing"
Neha tilted her head.
"Changing how?"
Sonarika’s lips pressed together as if she were afraid to admit it.
"For months, he was bitter, angry—every word was laced with disappointment. But now… it’s different. He’s dressing differently, speaking differently. He looks… confident. Almost charming. Like he’s shedding all that pain and stepping into something new"
Her voice broke into a whisper.
"And I don’t know how to feel about it"
Neha let the silence stretch, watching her patient’s trembling hands.
"What part unsettles you—the fact that he’s moving forward, or the possibility that he’s moving forward without you?"
Sonarika flinched at the question, her throat tightening.
"Both" she admitted after a long pause.
"I want him to be happy… God, I do. But if his happiness means moving further away from me, I don’t know if I can bear it. And yet… maybe I shouldn’t be in his life at all. Maybe I’m just the scar he can’t heal"
Neha leaned forward, her voice firm yet kind.
"You’ve just said two conflicting things. On one hand, you say you want the marriage to work. On the other, you believe you’re the obstacle to his happiness. So I need to ask you plainly, Sonarika—do you want this marriage to work, or not?"
The question landed like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Sonarika’s eyes filled with tears, but she forced herself to hold Neha’s gaze.
"I do. I want it more than anything. But every time I see him, I see what I’ve done to him. My betrayal, my weakness—it’s written all over his face. How can we rebuild something when I’ve destroyed it with my own hands?"
Neha’s tone softened.
"You’re not the only one in this marriage, Sonarika. Healing and rebuilding don’t fall entirely on you. The question isn’t just whether you’ve broken it—it’s whether he wants to fix it with you. Do you see him trying?"
Sonarika’s breath caught. She thought of the smile Hemant had given Anjali that morning, the lightness in his voice, the way he had lifted Karan so effortlessly. She thought of the bridal magazine, his transformation, his determination to embrace change.
"He’s trying… but not with me. It feels like he’s creating a new world where I’m not needed anymore"
Neha leaned back, jotting something in her notebook.
"Or maybe he’s creating a new version of himself to survive the pain—and he hasn’t yet decided whether you fit into that picture or not. That doesn’t mean you can’t"
Sonarika swallowed hard, her voice trembling.
"But what if my presence is just a constant reminder of what I did? What if I’m poison to his peace?"
Neha looked at her carefully.
"Then the real question becomes: are you willing to fight for the space you want in his life, or are you already preparing to let go?"
Tears spilled freely now, rolling down Sonarika’s cheeks.
"I don’t know" she whispered.
"I don’t know what hurts more—losing him completely, or staying and watching him change into someone I can’t reach"
The room fell into quiet, broken only by the faint ticking of the wall clock. Neha didn’t rush her, didn’t fill the silence. She let the weight of Sonarika’s confession hang in the air, knowing the conflict was no longer about Hemant’s transformation, but about Sonarika’s own choice.
THAT SAME TIME AT YOD INDUSTRIES
The office window reflected the dusky sky, streaked with orange and violet. Hemant sat alone in his chair at YOD Industries, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. A file lay open on his desk, but his eyes weren’t on the numbers—they were distant, caught somewhere between past and present. He thought of Sonarika. The woman who had once been the anchor of his world, the center of his ambitions, the only person who could calm the storm inside him. Now, she was a reminder of pain he couldn’t erase. Every look, every silence between them whispered of betrayal. And no matter how much therapy healed her wounds, Hemant doubted it could heal what lay between them.
"She doesn’t have space for me in her heart anymore" he murmured under his breath.
It was a truth he had been circling around for weeks, but tonight it sat heavy and undeniable. Even if she came back whole, would she ever look at him the same way again? Or would he always be the man who waited while she was in someone else’s arms? He closed his eyes, and another memory flickered—the hospital, the days after the truth had shattered him. Pranitha Mehta, the corporate heiress, had visited, bringing words of encouragement. He had been numb, broken, and yet, when her hand lingered on his, when her lips suddenly pressed against his in a fleeting kiss, he hadn’t pulled away. It had been unexpected, brief, but real. For one moment, he had felt wanted again.
And then there was her—Tamanna. A friend since college, one who had once harbored feelings for him, but life had taken them in different directions. They had reconnected, almost by accident, and to his surprise, the bond was still there. Stronger, perhaps, because both of them now carried the weight of loss. Tamanna, widowed and raising her daughter Shraddha alone, understood the silent struggles of parenthood that words rarely captured. Their conversations stretched into late nights—sometimes about work, sometimes about memories, sometimes about nothing at all. And yet, in that nothingness, Hemant felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.
He pictured Shraddha laughing with Karan during their last meeting, the two children tumbling across the garden while Tamanna smiled, her eyes catching his with something unspoken. There was no bitterness there, no shadow of betrayal. Only the quiet understanding of two people who had endured loss and still found the strength to breathe. He hasn't seen her since the night of conflict with Dilawar. Figured he should give them space to recover from that ordeal. Hemant rubbed his forehead, conflicted. A part of him still longed for Sonarika, still dreamed of what their family could have been. But another part whispered that perhaps he is wasting his time to be someone important to her. Perhaps his time forward lay in something new, something unexpected.
His phone buzzed on the desk. A message. He glanced at the screen—Tamanna.
'I wanna see you....would you mind coming at my place for Lunch?'
For the first time in a long while, Hemant’s lips curved into a genuine smile. He typed a reply, his heart lighter than it had been in months. But deep down, a storm still brewed. Because no matter how close he drifted to Tamanna, part of him still wondered if he was moving forward—or just running away from the ghost of Sonarika. But with a new perspective , he typed a response.
'I'll be there'
(TO BE CONTD)
The lobby of YOD Industries welcomed him as Hemant Kumar walked in, his polished shoes clicking against the concrete. There was something different in his stride this morning—no hesitation, no lingering shadows of the past, only resolve. The rumble of trucks and the metallic clatter of workers filled the air, but to him it sounded like the heartbeat of a growing empire.
At the bay, a supervising army personnal gave a crisp salute.
"Mr. Kumar, the final shipment of weaponized ATVs is loaded. Dispatch to Pune base will begin within the hour"
Hemant nodded.
"Ensure the drivers get full security clearance. No lapses. This should be the benchmark for all future military dealings"
"Yes, sir" the personnal replied.
"We’ve doubled the convoy guard"
Crossing into the assembly section, Hemant was greeted by the thunder of welding torches and the grind of machinery. The skeletal frame of the Indigenous BTR stood tall under floodlights, with engineers clustered around consoles.
"Morning, Raghav" Hemant called as he approached the lead engineer.
"Morning, sir" Raghavendra replied, holding up a tablet.
"Stress tests are complete. The chassis handled 40% above projected load. We’re moving to suspension alignment. Prototype could be ready next quarter"
Hemant glanced at the figures.
"That’s within our timeline. But don’t chase speed at the cost of integrity. A single failure in trials will set us back years"
Another engineer joined in.
"Weapon integration modules are underway. The 20mm autocannon system has cleared safety checks. Next is the rpg-lock interface"
"Focus on compatibility with existing army systems. No soldier should waste time adapting to a platform that’s supposed to protect him"
Hemant replied evenly.
From across the floor, Vaibhav, YOD’s software engineer, hurried over with Kamya beside him.
"Sir, we’ve just received ANVIL’s new blueprints" Vaibhav said, showing Hemant his screen.
"Two handheld weapon designs. They are looking for your input. Wants YOD to integrate their specifics in it"
Hemant gestured.
"Leave the files on my desk. I’ll review today. Keep your team ready for revisions"
Kamya added.
"One more update. Shipments of Alignment Knots are up by 18%. Two new clients signed last week. I’ve already expanded production schedules"
Hemant looked at her with a brief approving nod.
"Good work, Kamya. Track client retention closely. Growth means nothing if we can’t sustain it"
"I’ll prepare a retention matrix" she assured.
By the time Hemant reached his office, the desk was neatly arranged, ANVIL’s blueprints placed dead center. He paused, running a finger along the schematic lines. This was where imagination met reality, and reality had deadlines. A knock at the door announced Raquel. He entered with a slim folder.
"Bhaijaan. I’ve overseen their holdings. The ledgers, the businesses—now under your control"
Hemant raised an eyebrow.
"Details"
Raquel flipped open the folder.
"Two electronics shops, garment warehouses, three small-scale factories, and some residential property stakes. All now under your watch. No resistance so far"
Hemant leaned forward.
"And the victims? People forced into debts or pushed out of their shops?"
Raquel hesitated, then said.
"Most are still tied up in unpaid balances. Some lost everything. Families are… fractured"
Hemant’s response was steady.
"Here’s what we do. Cancel their debts. Return the stolen shops to original owners. For those without resources, give them a chance to start fresh under YOD’s mentorship. We’ll formalize this through legal channels—no gray areas"
Raquel scribbled notes.
"Understood. Transparent handovers only"
Hemant continued.
"Regarding Dilawar’s Colony, I’ve spoken with the residents. We’ll rebuild the infrastructure—housing, sanitation, even the college. In return, they’ll commit to a community cooperative tied to YOD’s ecosystem. It’s investment, not takeover"
Raquel looked up.
"That’ll win you long-term loyalty"
"It’ll give them dignity" Hemant corrected.
As Raquel closed the folder, he added.
"Glad to see you becoming true to yourself Bhaijaan. You’re reorganizing entire communities"
Hemant stood, moving toward the glass wall.
"Communities are the foundation of markets. You take care of people, and they’ll take care of the enterprise. That’s how stability is built"
Through the glass, Hemant observed the movement below—trucks departing, sparks flying, workers focused. It was an intricate system, each part feeding into the other. What once was his personal ambition now looked like the skeleton of an empire.
He spoke softly, almost to himself: "This is just the beginning"
THAT EVENING
Hemant was on his way to an important meet when his SUV started to behave erratically. He called a mechanic after failure to restart it multiple times. He was standing at the roadside with the bonnet up to see if there is any other ways. He instead arranged for the vehicle to be towed so he stood at the roadside to hitch any ride. That is when Disha was riding to that road in her scooty.
Disha pulled her scooty closer to the curb, her eyes widening as she recognized the tall, commanding figure fussing with the hood of his car. It was her former boss, now a high-profile industrialist. Her pulse quickened, and her voice trembled slightly as she called out,
"Boss… need help?"
Hemant straightened, his sharp jaw catching the sunlight, and smiled faintly.
"Disha? Well, look at that. Yes, seems my ride doesn’t want to cooperate today. I need to get near Elphinston Street. Still working at Quadron?"
She nodded, suddenly aware of how small she felt under his gaze.
"Of course. I am the owner of your last cabin remember?"
She hesitated, then tilted her head.
"If you want… I could drop you"
"Really?" His eyes softened, though amusement danced there.
"On this scooty of yours? Fine then. I trust you. Let’s go"
He slid behind her, his thighs brushing against her hips. The faintest touch, yet Disha’s body erupted in awareness. Starting the scooty, she tried to steady her hands, but her mind was racing. She could feel the solid weight of him behind her, the warmth of his chest close to her back. The heat of his presence was intoxicating. She gave a nervous laugh.
"Just so you know, I drive fast"
Hemant leaned closer, his breath grazing her ear.
"It’s a scooty, Disha. The only thing I’m afraid of is you wobbling us into traffic"
His teasing tone did little to calm her—it only made her skin prickle with anticipation. As they weaved through the street, she felt every shift of his body. The firmness of his thighs pressing against her, the subtle grip of his hands on the side seat. Her imagination betrayed her—images of his hands holding her waist, pulling her back into him. Suddenly, she pressed the brakes sharper than needed. Hemant’s body pressed flush against her, his chest molding into her back, his hand instinctively grasping her hip for balance. The touch was fleeting but deliberate enough to send a shiver running down her spine.
"Disha" he said lowly, almost a warning, though a trace of laughter colored his tone.
"Trying to give me a heart attack?"
His thumb had grazed her waist before he pulled his hand away, but the ghost of that touch burned hotter than fire. She swallowed hard, her lips parting.
"Maybe I wanted to see how well you’d hold on" she teased, her voice softer than intended.
Inside, she was a storm—her body throbbing with the dangerous thrill of his closeness. The temptation was unbearable. When he leaned slightly forward to check the road, his chest brushed against her back again, firmer this time. She gasped, barely keeping control of the scooty. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to stop, to let the moment unravel into something forbidden. But before she could act on her reckless desire, Hemant tapped her shoulder.
"Here. Stop here, this is my stop"
Reluctantly, she braked and he stepped off, adjusting his shirt as though nothing had happened.
"Thanks, Disha. You drive… better than you claim"
He smiled and walked away. Disha stayed frozen for a second, breathing hard, her thighs pressed tight on the scooty seat. As she rode to her office, every bump in the road only reminded her of the heat she still carried.
By the time Disha parked her scooty at Quadron, her legs were trembling. She had never felt such fire before from something so simple—his hand brushing her waist, his chest pressing into her back. Every nerve in her body buzzed. She hurried to her cabin, shutting the door quickly, her breath still unsteady.
The moment she dropped into her chair, she froze. This was his chair once. His desk. His office. She ran her fingers along the polished wooden table, as if she could still feel the echoes of him there. The room seemed haunted by his presence—his laughter, his calm voice, the way he used to lean back in this very seat while giving instructions. She leaned back, closing her eyes. The fantasy began to creep in. She pictured Hemant walking into the cabin now, not as her former boss but as the man who had just set her body ablaze. She imagined him shutting the door firmly behind him, that commanding aura swallowing the room whole.
In her mind, he came up to her desk, leaning forward on his hands, his sharp eyes locking into hers.
"So you still sit in my chair?" he would say, voice low and heavy.
"Do you even know what I used to imagine when I was in it?"
Her breath grew heavier as she envisioned herself biting her lip, challenging him.
"Maybe I’ve imagined it too" she whispered back in her fantasy.
She saw him circling the desk, standing behind her, his strong hands sliding down her shoulders, pressing into her arms, before gripping the edges of the chair. She imagined him bending lower, his chest against her back, just like on the scooty—but this time no accident, no excuse. His breath hot on her neck, lips grazing her skin. She tilted her head to the side in her fantasy, offering herself, desperate for him to claim her. The fantasy grew bolder—his hands pushing aside the files on her desk, his voice rougher now.
"I thought about bending you over this table so many times, Disha"
She gasped at her own imagination, thighs pressing tightly together under her skirt as heat pooled low in her belly. In her mind, she let it happen. She pictured herself bent over the desk, her palms flat against the wood, while Hemant pressed against her from behind. She could feel his strength, the weight of him, the hunger that matched her own. The thought alone made her shiver with delicious ache.
Her lips parted as she let the fantasy play out—his hands running along her waist, pulling her hips back into him, his voice deep and unrestrained. She thought of his suit jacket falling carelessly onto the floor, his belt unbuckling, and the raw urgency of him taking her without hesitation, right here in the cabin where they once pretended to be nothing more than boss and secretary. Disha’s breath hitched as she gripped the arms of the chair, lost in the vividness of her own mind. Every imagined word, every imagined touch, was too real. She could almost smell his cologne, almost hear the faint growl in his throat when she whimpered his name.
She shifted in her seat, thighs rubbing together for relief, her body betraying how deep the fantasy had carried her. Her skin was hot, her chest heaving. She almost hated how badly she wanted him—how much power he still had over her even in absence. Just then, the sharp knock on her cabin door jolted her awake.
"Disha, came early?" came Priyanka’s voice.
Disha straightened instantly, smacking her forehead lightly with her palm, forcing a laugh to cover the flush on her face.
"Yes , Mam"
"Alright , come to my cabin with the project presentation. I need to make some minor changes"
Priyanka walked away confused by Disha's state.
"On my way, ma’am"
But as she picked up her pen and the necessary paperwork of the project, the truth remained—no matter how much she buried it, Hemant still owned her thoughts, and her body was still aching from the fantasy she had spun around him.
FEW DAYS LATER
The room was bathed in warm light, the faint scent of lavender filling the air. Dr. Neha sat with her notebook balanced on her lap, her posture calm but attentive. Sonarika, wrapped in a soft cream shawl, sat opposite her, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the fabric. She looked weary, her eyes swollen as if she hadn’t slept properly for days.
"Tell me what’s been on your mind since our last session" Neha prompted gently.
Sonarika exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping to the carpet.
"It’s Hemant. He’s… changing"
Neha tilted her head.
"Changing how?"
Sonarika’s lips pressed together as if she were afraid to admit it.
"For months, he was bitter, angry—every word was laced with disappointment. But now… it’s different. He’s dressing differently, speaking differently. He looks… confident. Almost charming. Like he’s shedding all that pain and stepping into something new"
Her voice broke into a whisper.
"And I don’t know how to feel about it"
Neha let the silence stretch, watching her patient’s trembling hands.
"What part unsettles you—the fact that he’s moving forward, or the possibility that he’s moving forward without you?"
Sonarika flinched at the question, her throat tightening.
"Both" she admitted after a long pause.
"I want him to be happy… God, I do. But if his happiness means moving further away from me, I don’t know if I can bear it. And yet… maybe I shouldn’t be in his life at all. Maybe I’m just the scar he can’t heal"
Neha leaned forward, her voice firm yet kind.
"You’ve just said two conflicting things. On one hand, you say you want the marriage to work. On the other, you believe you’re the obstacle to his happiness. So I need to ask you plainly, Sonarika—do you want this marriage to work, or not?"
The question landed like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Sonarika’s eyes filled with tears, but she forced herself to hold Neha’s gaze.
"I do. I want it more than anything. But every time I see him, I see what I’ve done to him. My betrayal, my weakness—it’s written all over his face. How can we rebuild something when I’ve destroyed it with my own hands?"
Neha’s tone softened.
"You’re not the only one in this marriage, Sonarika. Healing and rebuilding don’t fall entirely on you. The question isn’t just whether you’ve broken it—it’s whether he wants to fix it with you. Do you see him trying?"
Sonarika’s breath caught. She thought of the smile Hemant had given Anjali that morning, the lightness in his voice, the way he had lifted Karan so effortlessly. She thought of the bridal magazine, his transformation, his determination to embrace change.
"He’s trying… but not with me. It feels like he’s creating a new world where I’m not needed anymore"
Neha leaned back, jotting something in her notebook.
"Or maybe he’s creating a new version of himself to survive the pain—and he hasn’t yet decided whether you fit into that picture or not. That doesn’t mean you can’t"
Sonarika swallowed hard, her voice trembling.
"But what if my presence is just a constant reminder of what I did? What if I’m poison to his peace?"
Neha looked at her carefully.
"Then the real question becomes: are you willing to fight for the space you want in his life, or are you already preparing to let go?"
Tears spilled freely now, rolling down Sonarika’s cheeks.
"I don’t know" she whispered.
"I don’t know what hurts more—losing him completely, or staying and watching him change into someone I can’t reach"
The room fell into quiet, broken only by the faint ticking of the wall clock. Neha didn’t rush her, didn’t fill the silence. She let the weight of Sonarika’s confession hang in the air, knowing the conflict was no longer about Hemant’s transformation, but about Sonarika’s own choice.
THAT SAME TIME AT YOD INDUSTRIES
The office window reflected the dusky sky, streaked with orange and violet. Hemant sat alone in his chair at YOD Industries, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. A file lay open on his desk, but his eyes weren’t on the numbers—they were distant, caught somewhere between past and present. He thought of Sonarika. The woman who had once been the anchor of his world, the center of his ambitions, the only person who could calm the storm inside him. Now, she was a reminder of pain he couldn’t erase. Every look, every silence between them whispered of betrayal. And no matter how much therapy healed her wounds, Hemant doubted it could heal what lay between them.
"She doesn’t have space for me in her heart anymore" he murmured under his breath.
It was a truth he had been circling around for weeks, but tonight it sat heavy and undeniable. Even if she came back whole, would she ever look at him the same way again? Or would he always be the man who waited while she was in someone else’s arms? He closed his eyes, and another memory flickered—the hospital, the days after the truth had shattered him. Pranitha Mehta, the corporate heiress, had visited, bringing words of encouragement. He had been numb, broken, and yet, when her hand lingered on his, when her lips suddenly pressed against his in a fleeting kiss, he hadn’t pulled away. It had been unexpected, brief, but real. For one moment, he had felt wanted again.
And then there was her—Tamanna. A friend since college, one who had once harbored feelings for him, but life had taken them in different directions. They had reconnected, almost by accident, and to his surprise, the bond was still there. Stronger, perhaps, because both of them now carried the weight of loss. Tamanna, widowed and raising her daughter Shraddha alone, understood the silent struggles of parenthood that words rarely captured. Their conversations stretched into late nights—sometimes about work, sometimes about memories, sometimes about nothing at all. And yet, in that nothingness, Hemant felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.
He pictured Shraddha laughing with Karan during their last meeting, the two children tumbling across the garden while Tamanna smiled, her eyes catching his with something unspoken. There was no bitterness there, no shadow of betrayal. Only the quiet understanding of two people who had endured loss and still found the strength to breathe. He hasn't seen her since the night of conflict with Dilawar. Figured he should give them space to recover from that ordeal. Hemant rubbed his forehead, conflicted. A part of him still longed for Sonarika, still dreamed of what their family could have been. But another part whispered that perhaps he is wasting his time to be someone important to her. Perhaps his time forward lay in something new, something unexpected.
His phone buzzed on the desk. A message. He glanced at the screen—Tamanna.
'I wanna see you....would you mind coming at my place for Lunch?'
For the first time in a long while, Hemant’s lips curved into a genuine smile. He typed a reply, his heart lighter than it had been in months. But deep down, a storm still brewed. Because no matter how close he drifted to Tamanna, part of him still wondered if he was moving forward—or just running away from the ghost of Sonarika. But with a new perspective , he typed a response.
'I'll be there'
(TO BE CONTD)
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