08-10-2025, 11:50 AM
(CHAPTER CONTD)
The soft chime of the wall clock filled Dr. Neha Bharadwaj’s clinic, a serene place tucked in a quiet corner of Bandra. Sunlight filtered gently through the bamboo blinds, falling across the bookshelves lined with medical journals, psychology case studies, and a single vase of fresh lilies. It smelled faintly of coffee and eucalyptus — calm, clean, and safe. Sonarika sat on the cushioned chair facing Neha’s desk, her hands clasped together. She looked fragile but composed, the storm of the previous night replaced by an eerie quiet. Beside her sat Ragini, notebook in hand, her expression watchful but encouraging.
Neha looked up from her tablet, her voice even and warm.
"Good morning, Sonarika. I know yesterday was a lot to take in. How are you feeling today?"
Sonarika managed a faint smile.
"Like I finally saw the wreckage of my own devastation. I’m still scared, but… at least I know what I’m trying to salvage"
"That’s a good start" Neha said, leaning back slightly in her chair.
"Awareness is the first victory"
She tapped her tablet and turned it toward Sonarika.
"I’ve redesigned your daily routine. It might feel restrictive at first, but structure is what your brain needs most right now. You’ll wake at six every morning, take a light walk or some yoga, then have one hour of reading before breakfast. After that, focus on small chores or work that keeps you engaged but not overstimulated"
"Reading?" Sonarika asked with a weak chuckle.
"It’s been years since I picked up a book"
"That’s exactly why it will help" Neha replied.
"Reading creates mental rhythm, gives your thoughts direction. When your mind is restless, it looks for stimulation — in your case, that turns into compulsion. Reading will give it a safe place to rest"
Ragini smiled softly.
"I can bring her a few books to start with. Something light, maybe some poetry or travel essays"
"Perfect" Neha nodded.
"And in the evenings, try mindfulness exercises or journaling. Write down your thoughts — not to analyze them, but to release them. The more we reduce what you suppress, the weaker your impulses become"
Sonarika listened intently, almost afraid to interrupt.
Then Neha reached for a small white bottle on her desk.
"This is your new prescription. It’s meant to repair the damaged neural pathways in your frontal cortex and stabilize your emotional processing. You may feel lightheaded for a few days, but that will pass"
Sonarika stared at the bottle.
"So this is what will fix me?" she whispered.
Neha shook her head gently.
"No, Sonarika. This will help you fix yourself. The medicine stabilizes the brain; it doesn’t heal the heart. That part, you have to do"
There was a pause. Neha’s tone grew firmer now, though still compassionate.
"To truly heal, you’ll need to make some very hard choices. This includes a complete withdrawal from anything that fuels your condition — especially sexual activity of any kind. No intimacy, no indulgent thoughts, no temptation. You’ll need to retrain your body to find calm in silence, not stimulation"
The words struck Sonarika hard. For a long moment, she just sat still, her breath trembling.
"So I have to stop… everything?"
"Yes" Neha said simply.
"Your brain is wired to associate emotional pain with physical release. Until we break that link, every step forward will pull you two steps back. It won’t be easy, but it’s possible. And every day you resist is a day your mind learns control again"
Sonarika closed her eyes. Her hands shook slightly, but she nodded.
"No more running, then. No more hiding behind excuses"
Ragini reached across the small table and gently touched her wrist.
"You’re stronger than you think, Sonarika. You just need to remember that strength"
A tear slipped down Sonarika’s cheek, but this time, it wasn’t despair — it was relief.
"For the first time… I think I actually believe that"
She wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"There’s something else I’ve been thinking about. Before all this… I was considering moving away from Mumbai. I thought it was just me running from my guilt, but now… it feels like I should. For everyone’s safety. For Karan, for Hemant, even for myself"
Neha and Ragini exchanged a quiet glance.
Ragini spoke first.
"It’s not a bad idea. A change of environment could really help your recovery. New air, new rhythm — it can reset your system"
Neha nodded thoughtfully.
"If you do, we’ll coordinate with a local therapist there to continue your sessions remotely. But take your time to decide. This time, you’re not escaping — you’re choosing peace"
Sonarika looked up, her expression soft but resolute.
"Then maybe it’s time I finally choose peace"
Neha smiled — the first genuine smile of the session.
"That’s the best decision you’ve made today"
Ragini stood and gently helped Sonarika up.
"Come on, I’ll drop you home. You’ll start your new schedule tomorrow"
As they reached the door, Sonarika turned back to Neha, her voice low but filled with fragile hope.
"Thank you… both of you. For not giving up on me"
Neha replied simply,
"Healing isn’t about perfection, Sonarika. It’s about persistence. And I see that in you"
Sonarika stepped out into the late morning light — the city still loud, the streets still familiar — but for the first time in months, she didn’t feel trapped in it. The world felt a little wider, and her mind, a little quieter. And as she walked beside Ragini, she whispered almost to herself.
"Maybe… this time, I’ll finally become the woman I am meant to be"
The first few days of her new schedule were the hardest. Sonarika woke before sunrise, often after a restless night of half-sleep and scattered thoughts. The silence of dawn made her feel exposed, the emptiness of her mind almost unbearable. But Neha’s voice echoed in her head — structure will save you. So, she forced herself to move. A small yoga mat in the living room became her first battleground against the chaos within. Her body trembled, her breath shallow, but every stretch, every slow inhale, every moment she resisted her mind’s darker urges — it was a small victory.
After her morning walk, she would sit by the window with a cup of tea and a book. At first, she struggled to focus. Words blurred; her mind wandered to forbidden places. But she kept at it, tracing each line with her finger, whispering them softly until they began to settle into her thoughts. By the end of the week, she could finish a few pages without drifting. Her days became a rhythm of quiet persistence. She made breakfast for Karan and Anjali, helped Karan with his homework, and sometimes watched him play in the living room, his laughter slowly softening her broken heart. But when she saw Hemant, her breath would falter. He spoke to her only when necessary — a cold politeness, a wall of indifference she knew she deserved.
One evening, when he returned from work, she tried to speak, just a small thank you for buying Karan’s art supplies. He didn’t even look at her.
"Keep it" he said flatly, before disappearing into his room.
Sonarika didn’t follow. Not this time. She sat in silence, the ache in her chest deep but no longer unbearable. She told herself — you’re healing, not begging. By the second week, Neha had increased her reading hours. Sonarika visited a small Crosswords bookstore near Linking Road. It was a Sunday afternoon; the city buzzed outside, but inside, the store was quiet and cool. She walked between the aisles, tracing her fingers along the spines of books, unsure what she was looking for — until she stumbled upon a section marked
'Nature and Botany'
She paused. There it was — a book titled The Secret Life of Plants. The glossy cover showed a single green sprout breaking through the soil, reaching for light. Something inside her stirred — a faint tug of memory, soft but deep. She picked up more: Flora of India, Gardens of the Mind, Botanical Sketching for Beginners. She didn’t even realize her hands were trembling. At the counter, as the clerk bagged her purchases, she smiled faintly — the first genuine smile she’d felt in weeks.
That night, sitting by her window, she opened The Secret Life of Plants. The scent of paper and ink filled the room, and with every page, her mind drifted backward — to her college days, before the accident, before everything changed. She saw herself in her green apron at Vrindavan Nursery, hands buried in soil, sunlight on her cheeks, laughter in her voice. She remembered the small greenhouse she loved to work in, how she would name her saplings, talk to them, whisper that they’d grow strong one day.
That place had been her sanctuary. Her balance. Her peace. She remembered telling Hemant about it once — in the early days of their marriage, when they still shared dreams like secrets.
"I always wanted to make my own garden someday"
She had said, resting her head on his shoulder. And he, smiling softly, had replied.
"Then when we build our own house, I’ll make a space for you. A space just for your garden and your flowers"
The memory made her eyes sting. That dream had withered — burned away in the wildness of her desires, in the chaos she mistook for love. But now, holding the book, she felt something shift. That same dream began to breathe again. Maybe it wasn’t lost forever. Maybe it had just been waiting for her to quiet down enough to hear it again. In the following days, she threw herself into this new rhythm. After Karan left for college, she’d read for hours — about ferns, mosses, seasonal growth patterns, the art of tending orchids. She began sketching small plant designs in her notebook, even planning out an imaginary garden layout.
She started watering the small plants in her balcony again — something she hadn’t done in months. The simple act of caring for something alive soothed her in ways she hadn’t expected. Ragini noticed the change when she visited.
"You look… calmer"
She said, setting down her purse. Sonarika smiled faintly, fingers tracing the edge of her book.
"I’m learning to be myself again"
But even as her peace grew, she kept her distance from Hemant. Every time she saw him — sitting at the dining table, scrolling on his phone, or leaving for work — her heart ached. She wanted to tell him everything, to beg forgiveness, to show him the woman she was trying to become. But she knew it would only reopen wounds. He had every right to hate her. So she stayed silent. Respectful. Distant. She poured her love into Karan, into her books, into her healing. It was better this way. Safer.
Around the third week, she began to think practically again. The idea of leaving Mumbai still lingered. One evening, after her session with Neha, she opened her laptop and sent a few discreet messages to her TANISHQ HR executives, asking about transfer options to Pune or Bangalore. They replied politely, promising to get back to her — and asking, gently, why she wanted to move. She didn’t answer. How could she? Some truths couldn’t be typed into an email.
Her days continued, slow and steady. Morning yoga. Reading. Journaling. Therapy. Sometimes she still woke with the ache of loneliness, sometimes the cravings returned like a whisper from the dark corners of her mind — but now, she didn’t act on them. She read. She breathed. She resisted.
Each small act of defiance felt like reclaiming a piece of herself.
One evening, she sat by her balcony, the city lights flickering below. Karan was asleep, Anjali was watching TV inside, and she was lost in her thoughts. On the small table beside her lay a few potted plants — freshly watered, their leaves glistening.
She smiled faintly.
"You’re all I have right now" she whispered to them, brushing her fingers over the soil.
"But maybe that’s enough"
The night air was cool, and for the first time in years, she felt something gentle — not passion, not pain — just peace. The first fragile sprout of a woman trying to grow again.
The following weeks unfolded with a calm rhythm Sonarika had never known before. Her mornings began with yoga and meditation; then she’d water her small balcony plants — her little green world — before preparing breakfast for Karan and Anjali. The soft rustle of leaves, the smell of wet soil, and the sunlight warming her skin grounded her. When she left for work, there was a steadiness in her steps — not the guilt-ridden hesitation of before. She arrived early, finished her tasks on time, even managed to help new interns at the Tanishq office without losing patience. Her colleagues noticed the change — a quiet discipline, a warmer tone, a faint but visible glow returning to her eyes.
Her evenings were reserved for reading. Books on botany and ecology filled her desk. Sometimes Karan would crawl beside her, drawing little plants in her notebook as she smiled and explained to him the difference between herbs and shrubs. Those moments became her small paradise — brief but pure. Even Hemant noticed the change — and it didn’t sit easily with him. At first, he thought it was an act. A way to show off her supposed 'healing' to earn sympathy or make him feel guilty. When she laughed softly with Karan, his heart twisted — not in love, but confusion and anger. How could she act so peaceful after everything she’d done How could she seem… okay? He avoided her even more, locking himself behind the invisible walls he’d built.
One night, he snapped when she greeted him at the door.
"Why are you pretending?" he asked coldly.She froze.
"Pretending?"
"You think being cheerful will erase what you did? That acting normal will make me forget?"
His voice was harsh but tired. Sonarika didn’t respond. She simply lowered her gaze and said,
"I’m not pretending, Hemant. I’m just… trying to live"
That answer disarmed him, but he said nothing more. He went inside, leaving her in the doorway, eyes glistening — not from pain this time, but quiet acceptance.
A few days later, Ragini called.
"Come by my place after work" she said on the phone.
"There’s something I want to discuss"
That evening, Sonarika arrived at Ragini’s apartment. The sunset bled orange through the window as Ragini handed her a cup of green tea.
"You look different" Ragini said with a small smile.
"Lighter"
Sonarika chuckled softly.
"Maybe I finally found something that keeps me steady — my plants, my books. It’s strange how much peace soil can give you"
Ragini nodded thoughtfully, setting her cup down.
"You mentioned your time at that nursery — what was it called? Vrindavan?"
"Yes" Sonarika said, her eyes softening.
"It was my favorite place. I worked there in my teenage days before… everything happened. It was peaceful. I thought someday I’d have my own garden, maybe teach people about plants"
There was something so pure in the way she said it — the kind of innocence that hadn’t been in her voice for years. That’s when something clicked in Ragini’s mind.
"Wait" Ragini said suddenly, leaning forward.
"There’s something you might like"
Sonarika looked up curiously.
"In Goa — North of Vagator — there’s a private establishment called VATIKA Botanical Research and Development Center. It’s massive, like a glass-domed paradise. They produce high-quality vegetation, herbs, and extracts used for packaged food and medicine. It’s owned by a woman named Mrs. Sreelekha Naik — a remarkable person, a woman I look upto. Built the entire operation from scratch. I’ve met her twice during a business conference. She’s in her fifties, extremely sharp, very compassionate — and she’s currently looking for an Operations Manager for the center"
"An Operations Manager?" Sonarika repeated, surprised. Ragini nodded.
"Yes. You’ve managed the corporate office of Tanishq — that experience counts. Plus, your knowledge of plants gives you an edge. I think you’d be perfect for it"
Sonarika blinked, stunned.
"Goa sounds like another world, Ragini. I… I don’t know if I can do something like that. It’s not just a job change, it’s… everything"
"I know" Ragini said softly.
"But maybe that’s the point. Maybe this is the kind of change you need"
There was silence for a while. The air between them was heavy but calm — the kind of quiet that carried meaning.
"I’ll think about it" Sonarika finally said.
"Good" Ragini replied, touching her hand gently.
"You don’t need to decide tonight. Just… look into it. See what kind of place it is. You might be surprised"
That night, back in her apartment, Sonarika couldn’t sleep. The name Vatika echoed in her head like a whisper. After Karan and Anjali were asleep, she opened her laptop and searched:
'VATIKA Botanical Research and Development Center, North Vagator'
Dozens of images filled her screen — sprawling green domes, glass tunnels, lush gardens that looked like living cathedrals. Scientists and gardeners worked side by side in harmony. There were bioluminescent plants, hybrid crops, and even rare orchids cultivated in climate-controlled chambers. Her breath caught. It was everything she’d dreamed of — and more. She clicked through articles — one about Mrs. Sreelekha Naik, describing her journey from a small-town horticulturist to the head of one of India’s most advanced botanical facilities. Another article mentioned the Center’s initiatives in sustainable agriculture and eco-therapy programs for trauma survivors. Something deep within Sonarika stirred — not desire, not regret, but calling.
She leaned back, eyes glistening at the soft light of her laptop screen. Could this be it? The new beginning she’d been unknowingly preparing herself for?
She placed her palm over her heart, whispering quietly to herself —
"Maybe this is where I start again"
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
Neha looked up from her tablet, her voice even and warm.
"Good morning, Sonarika. I know yesterday was a lot to take in. How are you feeling today?"
Sonarika managed a faint smile.
"Like I finally saw the wreckage of my own devastation. I’m still scared, but… at least I know what I’m trying to salvage"
"That’s a good start" Neha said, leaning back slightly in her chair.
"Awareness is the first victory"
She tapped her tablet and turned it toward Sonarika.
"I’ve redesigned your daily routine. It might feel restrictive at first, but structure is what your brain needs most right now. You’ll wake at six every morning, take a light walk or some yoga, then have one hour of reading before breakfast. After that, focus on small chores or work that keeps you engaged but not overstimulated"
"Reading?" Sonarika asked with a weak chuckle.
"It’s been years since I picked up a book"
"That’s exactly why it will help" Neha replied.
"Reading creates mental rhythm, gives your thoughts direction. When your mind is restless, it looks for stimulation — in your case, that turns into compulsion. Reading will give it a safe place to rest"
Ragini smiled softly.
"I can bring her a few books to start with. Something light, maybe some poetry or travel essays"
"Perfect" Neha nodded.
"And in the evenings, try mindfulness exercises or journaling. Write down your thoughts — not to analyze them, but to release them. The more we reduce what you suppress, the weaker your impulses become"
Sonarika listened intently, almost afraid to interrupt.
Then Neha reached for a small white bottle on her desk.
"This is your new prescription. It’s meant to repair the damaged neural pathways in your frontal cortex and stabilize your emotional processing. You may feel lightheaded for a few days, but that will pass"
Sonarika stared at the bottle.
"So this is what will fix me?" she whispered.
Neha shook her head gently.
"No, Sonarika. This will help you fix yourself. The medicine stabilizes the brain; it doesn’t heal the heart. That part, you have to do"
There was a pause. Neha’s tone grew firmer now, though still compassionate.
"To truly heal, you’ll need to make some very hard choices. This includes a complete withdrawal from anything that fuels your condition — especially sexual activity of any kind. No intimacy, no indulgent thoughts, no temptation. You’ll need to retrain your body to find calm in silence, not stimulation"
The words struck Sonarika hard. For a long moment, she just sat still, her breath trembling.
"So I have to stop… everything?"
"Yes" Neha said simply.
"Your brain is wired to associate emotional pain with physical release. Until we break that link, every step forward will pull you two steps back. It won’t be easy, but it’s possible. And every day you resist is a day your mind learns control again"
Sonarika closed her eyes. Her hands shook slightly, but she nodded.
"No more running, then. No more hiding behind excuses"
Ragini reached across the small table and gently touched her wrist.
"You’re stronger than you think, Sonarika. You just need to remember that strength"
A tear slipped down Sonarika’s cheek, but this time, it wasn’t despair — it was relief.
"For the first time… I think I actually believe that"
She wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"There’s something else I’ve been thinking about. Before all this… I was considering moving away from Mumbai. I thought it was just me running from my guilt, but now… it feels like I should. For everyone’s safety. For Karan, for Hemant, even for myself"
Neha and Ragini exchanged a quiet glance.
Ragini spoke first.
"It’s not a bad idea. A change of environment could really help your recovery. New air, new rhythm — it can reset your system"
Neha nodded thoughtfully.
"If you do, we’ll coordinate with a local therapist there to continue your sessions remotely. But take your time to decide. This time, you’re not escaping — you’re choosing peace"
Sonarika looked up, her expression soft but resolute.
"Then maybe it’s time I finally choose peace"
Neha smiled — the first genuine smile of the session.
"That’s the best decision you’ve made today"
Ragini stood and gently helped Sonarika up.
"Come on, I’ll drop you home. You’ll start your new schedule tomorrow"
As they reached the door, Sonarika turned back to Neha, her voice low but filled with fragile hope.
"Thank you… both of you. For not giving up on me"
Neha replied simply,
"Healing isn’t about perfection, Sonarika. It’s about persistence. And I see that in you"
Sonarika stepped out into the late morning light — the city still loud, the streets still familiar — but for the first time in months, she didn’t feel trapped in it. The world felt a little wider, and her mind, a little quieter. And as she walked beside Ragini, she whispered almost to herself.
"Maybe… this time, I’ll finally become the woman I am meant to be"
The first few days of her new schedule were the hardest. Sonarika woke before sunrise, often after a restless night of half-sleep and scattered thoughts. The silence of dawn made her feel exposed, the emptiness of her mind almost unbearable. But Neha’s voice echoed in her head — structure will save you. So, she forced herself to move. A small yoga mat in the living room became her first battleground against the chaos within. Her body trembled, her breath shallow, but every stretch, every slow inhale, every moment she resisted her mind’s darker urges — it was a small victory.
After her morning walk, she would sit by the window with a cup of tea and a book. At first, she struggled to focus. Words blurred; her mind wandered to forbidden places. But she kept at it, tracing each line with her finger, whispering them softly until they began to settle into her thoughts. By the end of the week, she could finish a few pages without drifting. Her days became a rhythm of quiet persistence. She made breakfast for Karan and Anjali, helped Karan with his homework, and sometimes watched him play in the living room, his laughter slowly softening her broken heart. But when she saw Hemant, her breath would falter. He spoke to her only when necessary — a cold politeness, a wall of indifference she knew she deserved.
One evening, when he returned from work, she tried to speak, just a small thank you for buying Karan’s art supplies. He didn’t even look at her.
"Keep it" he said flatly, before disappearing into his room.
Sonarika didn’t follow. Not this time. She sat in silence, the ache in her chest deep but no longer unbearable. She told herself — you’re healing, not begging. By the second week, Neha had increased her reading hours. Sonarika visited a small Crosswords bookstore near Linking Road. It was a Sunday afternoon; the city buzzed outside, but inside, the store was quiet and cool. She walked between the aisles, tracing her fingers along the spines of books, unsure what she was looking for — until she stumbled upon a section marked
'Nature and Botany'
She paused. There it was — a book titled The Secret Life of Plants. The glossy cover showed a single green sprout breaking through the soil, reaching for light. Something inside her stirred — a faint tug of memory, soft but deep. She picked up more: Flora of India, Gardens of the Mind, Botanical Sketching for Beginners. She didn’t even realize her hands were trembling. At the counter, as the clerk bagged her purchases, she smiled faintly — the first genuine smile she’d felt in weeks.
That night, sitting by her window, she opened The Secret Life of Plants. The scent of paper and ink filled the room, and with every page, her mind drifted backward — to her college days, before the accident, before everything changed. She saw herself in her green apron at Vrindavan Nursery, hands buried in soil, sunlight on her cheeks, laughter in her voice. She remembered the small greenhouse she loved to work in, how she would name her saplings, talk to them, whisper that they’d grow strong one day.
That place had been her sanctuary. Her balance. Her peace. She remembered telling Hemant about it once — in the early days of their marriage, when they still shared dreams like secrets.
"I always wanted to make my own garden someday"
She had said, resting her head on his shoulder. And he, smiling softly, had replied.
"Then when we build our own house, I’ll make a space for you. A space just for your garden and your flowers"
The memory made her eyes sting. That dream had withered — burned away in the wildness of her desires, in the chaos she mistook for love. But now, holding the book, she felt something shift. That same dream began to breathe again. Maybe it wasn’t lost forever. Maybe it had just been waiting for her to quiet down enough to hear it again. In the following days, she threw herself into this new rhythm. After Karan left for college, she’d read for hours — about ferns, mosses, seasonal growth patterns, the art of tending orchids. She began sketching small plant designs in her notebook, even planning out an imaginary garden layout.
She started watering the small plants in her balcony again — something she hadn’t done in months. The simple act of caring for something alive soothed her in ways she hadn’t expected. Ragini noticed the change when she visited.
"You look… calmer"
She said, setting down her purse. Sonarika smiled faintly, fingers tracing the edge of her book.
"I’m learning to be myself again"
But even as her peace grew, she kept her distance from Hemant. Every time she saw him — sitting at the dining table, scrolling on his phone, or leaving for work — her heart ached. She wanted to tell him everything, to beg forgiveness, to show him the woman she was trying to become. But she knew it would only reopen wounds. He had every right to hate her. So she stayed silent. Respectful. Distant. She poured her love into Karan, into her books, into her healing. It was better this way. Safer.
Around the third week, she began to think practically again. The idea of leaving Mumbai still lingered. One evening, after her session with Neha, she opened her laptop and sent a few discreet messages to her TANISHQ HR executives, asking about transfer options to Pune or Bangalore. They replied politely, promising to get back to her — and asking, gently, why she wanted to move. She didn’t answer. How could she? Some truths couldn’t be typed into an email.
Her days continued, slow and steady. Morning yoga. Reading. Journaling. Therapy. Sometimes she still woke with the ache of loneliness, sometimes the cravings returned like a whisper from the dark corners of her mind — but now, she didn’t act on them. She read. She breathed. She resisted.
Each small act of defiance felt like reclaiming a piece of herself.
One evening, she sat by her balcony, the city lights flickering below. Karan was asleep, Anjali was watching TV inside, and she was lost in her thoughts. On the small table beside her lay a few potted plants — freshly watered, their leaves glistening.
She smiled faintly.
"You’re all I have right now" she whispered to them, brushing her fingers over the soil.
"But maybe that’s enough"
The night air was cool, and for the first time in years, she felt something gentle — not passion, not pain — just peace. The first fragile sprout of a woman trying to grow again.
The following weeks unfolded with a calm rhythm Sonarika had never known before. Her mornings began with yoga and meditation; then she’d water her small balcony plants — her little green world — before preparing breakfast for Karan and Anjali. The soft rustle of leaves, the smell of wet soil, and the sunlight warming her skin grounded her. When she left for work, there was a steadiness in her steps — not the guilt-ridden hesitation of before. She arrived early, finished her tasks on time, even managed to help new interns at the Tanishq office without losing patience. Her colleagues noticed the change — a quiet discipline, a warmer tone, a faint but visible glow returning to her eyes.
Her evenings were reserved for reading. Books on botany and ecology filled her desk. Sometimes Karan would crawl beside her, drawing little plants in her notebook as she smiled and explained to him the difference between herbs and shrubs. Those moments became her small paradise — brief but pure. Even Hemant noticed the change — and it didn’t sit easily with him. At first, he thought it was an act. A way to show off her supposed 'healing' to earn sympathy or make him feel guilty. When she laughed softly with Karan, his heart twisted — not in love, but confusion and anger. How could she act so peaceful after everything she’d done How could she seem… okay? He avoided her even more, locking himself behind the invisible walls he’d built.
One night, he snapped when she greeted him at the door.
"Why are you pretending?" he asked coldly.She froze.
"Pretending?"
"You think being cheerful will erase what you did? That acting normal will make me forget?"
His voice was harsh but tired. Sonarika didn’t respond. She simply lowered her gaze and said,
"I’m not pretending, Hemant. I’m just… trying to live"
That answer disarmed him, but he said nothing more. He went inside, leaving her in the doorway, eyes glistening — not from pain this time, but quiet acceptance.
A few days later, Ragini called.
"Come by my place after work" she said on the phone.
"There’s something I want to discuss"
That evening, Sonarika arrived at Ragini’s apartment. The sunset bled orange through the window as Ragini handed her a cup of green tea.
"You look different" Ragini said with a small smile.
"Lighter"
Sonarika chuckled softly.
"Maybe I finally found something that keeps me steady — my plants, my books. It’s strange how much peace soil can give you"
Ragini nodded thoughtfully, setting her cup down.
"You mentioned your time at that nursery — what was it called? Vrindavan?"
"Yes" Sonarika said, her eyes softening.
"It was my favorite place. I worked there in my teenage days before… everything happened. It was peaceful. I thought someday I’d have my own garden, maybe teach people about plants"
There was something so pure in the way she said it — the kind of innocence that hadn’t been in her voice for years. That’s when something clicked in Ragini’s mind.
"Wait" Ragini said suddenly, leaning forward.
"There’s something you might like"
Sonarika looked up curiously.
"In Goa — North of Vagator — there’s a private establishment called VATIKA Botanical Research and Development Center. It’s massive, like a glass-domed paradise. They produce high-quality vegetation, herbs, and extracts used for packaged food and medicine. It’s owned by a woman named Mrs. Sreelekha Naik — a remarkable person, a woman I look upto. Built the entire operation from scratch. I’ve met her twice during a business conference. She’s in her fifties, extremely sharp, very compassionate — and she’s currently looking for an Operations Manager for the center"
"An Operations Manager?" Sonarika repeated, surprised. Ragini nodded.
"Yes. You’ve managed the corporate office of Tanishq — that experience counts. Plus, your knowledge of plants gives you an edge. I think you’d be perfect for it"
Sonarika blinked, stunned.
"Goa sounds like another world, Ragini. I… I don’t know if I can do something like that. It’s not just a job change, it’s… everything"
"I know" Ragini said softly.
"But maybe that’s the point. Maybe this is the kind of change you need"
There was silence for a while. The air between them was heavy but calm — the kind of quiet that carried meaning.
"I’ll think about it" Sonarika finally said.
"Good" Ragini replied, touching her hand gently.
"You don’t need to decide tonight. Just… look into it. See what kind of place it is. You might be surprised"
That night, back in her apartment, Sonarika couldn’t sleep. The name Vatika echoed in her head like a whisper. After Karan and Anjali were asleep, she opened her laptop and searched:
'VATIKA Botanical Research and Development Center, North Vagator'
Dozens of images filled her screen — sprawling green domes, glass tunnels, lush gardens that looked like living cathedrals. Scientists and gardeners worked side by side in harmony. There were bioluminescent plants, hybrid crops, and even rare orchids cultivated in climate-controlled chambers. Her breath caught. It was everything she’d dreamed of — and more. She clicked through articles — one about Mrs. Sreelekha Naik, describing her journey from a small-town horticulturist to the head of one of India’s most advanced botanical facilities. Another article mentioned the Center’s initiatives in sustainable agriculture and eco-therapy programs for trauma survivors. Something deep within Sonarika stirred — not desire, not regret, but calling.
She leaned back, eyes glistening at the soft light of her laptop screen. Could this be it? The new beginning she’d been unknowingly preparing herself for?
She placed her palm over her heart, whispering quietly to herself —
"Maybe this is where I start again"
(CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)
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