11-12-2025, 08:57 PM
Chapter 3 - Fractured Tides
The night unfurled its dark wings over the Mahabalipuram guesthouse, where the air hung heavy with salt and unspoken tension. Earlier that evening, Arjun, grappling with a terminal diagnosis and a crumbling startup burdened by debt, fled to this sanctuary of past love, feigning drunkenness to push Pooja away and ignite her hatred. Meanwhile, Pooja, frantic after learning of his hospital visit and faint, enlisted Vikram's help to track him down. Their journey converged at the guesthouse, where the trio faced a storm of emotions—Arjun's desperate lies, Pooja's unwavering devotion, and Vikram's calculated kindness laced with perverse intent. As the sea roared outside, their dynamics fractured under the weight of sacrifice, blame, and hidden desire. Hear it from each of their perspectives:
Pooja's POV The guesthouse door flew open as I burst in, heart pounding like the waves outside. "Arjun!" I cried, spotting him collapsed on the bed, pale and unmoving. Vikram was right behind me, his presence a steady anchor in my panic. I rushed to Arjun's side, cradling his head, my fingers brushing his clammy forehead. "Wake up, love. Please." He stirred, eyes fluttering open, hazy and unfocused. Relief flooded me—he was alive, breathing. "What happened? Why here?" I whispered, stroking his cheek. Vikram hovered at the door, his voice calm. "He might've fainted again. Let's get him water." I nodded, my love for Arjun surging unconditional, ready to hold him through anything. Even as he mumbled something about debt and my "fault," I squeezed his hand. "We'll fix it together. I'm here."
Arjun sat up slowly, reeking of stale alcohol, though I knew he hadn't drunk today. "Pooja... you came," he slurred, but his eyes were sharp for a second before glazing over. I helped him to the porch, the sea air crisp against my skin. "Tell me what's wrong," I urged, sitting beside him, my chudidhar damp from the run. Vikram joined us, offering a bottle. "Drink this, Arjun." Arjun waved it away, turning to me with accusation. "The startup's drowning in debt because of you—always pushing me to quit the job, now look!" His words stung, but I saw the pain beneath. "No, Arjun, we'll support each other. I have savings; we'll pay it off." My loyalty burned—how could I leave him now?
Vikram's hand brushed my shoulder as he leaned in, "consoling" me. "He's stressed, Pooja. Don't take it to heart." His touch lingered a beat too long, sending a shiver, but I focused on Arjun, ignoring it. Arjun glared at the contact, but I pulled Vikram's arm away gently. "Thank you for bringing me." Arjun's blame escalated—"You never understood the pressure!"—yet I held his hand. "I love you unconditionally. We'll get through this." Vikram nodded, his eyes on me, soft but intense. "If debt's the issue, I can help. Friends are for that." He pulled out his phone, transferring 5 lakhs instantly. "For Pooja's sake, not yours, Arjun—you waste time drinking." His words hung, indirect but pointed, but I saw only kindness. Arjun's face darkened, but I hugged him. "See? We're not alone."
Arjun's POV The faint lifted like fog, Pooja's face the first thing I saw—her worry twisting my gut. I had to push harder, make her hate me before the truth bound her forever. Pretending drunk, I slurred, "Pooja, you... you ruined everything." Her eyes widened, but she cradled me, unconditional as always. Vikram stood there, his gaze raking over her, and I couldn't miss it—the hunger from years ago. On the porch, sea wind whipping, I blamed her for the startup debt, acting sloppy. "If you hadn't nagged me to start this, we'd be fine!" Lies, all to spark hatred, but her hand in mine felt like chains. Vikram's arm on her shoulder—too close—ignited my rage, but I played it cool, eyes locked on his wandering hand.
She defended me, "We'll fix it," her love a wall I couldn't breach. Vikram's eyes lingered on her curves, perverse glint hidden behind concern. He "accidentally" brushed her waist handing water, and I seethed, but stayed silent—part of the plan. "Debt's killing me," I groaned, blaming her "distractions." She vowed support, tears in her eyes. Vikram seized it, phone out. "I'll send 5 lakhs—for Pooja's sake, not you, the drunk fool." His indirect jab at me, eyes devouring her, confirmed it—he was circling. Not this soon, but destiny's cruel joke. Jealousy burned, but relief flickered; he'd take her when I was gone. Her hug choked me—I had to make her despise this life with me.
Vikram's POV Pooja's panic was raw as we found Arjun fainted on the bed. I hung back, letting her rush to him, my eyes tracing her frantic form—the way her chudidhar hugged her hips. Focus, I told myself, but the old hunger stirred. On the porch, sea salt thick in the air, I watched Arjun slur blame at her—"Debt's your fault, Pooja!"—his "drunk" act obvious, but she clung to him, loyal to a fault. Perfect opening. I leaned in, hand on her shoulder, feeling her warmth. "He's lashing out from stress," I murmured, thumb grazing her skin a second too long, the touch electric. Her shiver? Fear or something else? Perverse thoughts crept—imagining pulling her closer—but I shoved them down, disgusted yet thrilled.
She brushed my hand off gently, focused on him, but I caught Arjun's glare—he saw everything. Good. "If debt's the problem," I said, pulling out my phone, "I'll help. 5 lakhs, sent now—for Pooja's sake, not you wasting time drinking, Arjun." My words sliced indirect, eyes locking on hers, willing her to see me as savior. She smiled gratefully, her curves shifting as she hugged him—god, the view. I "accidentally" bumped her arm handing a cloth, savoring the contact, body reacting despite the shame. Why her, why now? But Arjun's act cracked their bond; she'd turn to me soon. As she vowed support, I nodded, hand hovering near her waist—consoling, always consoling—my perverse nature whispering to seize the moment.
The sea crashed below as Arjun's blame echoed, Pooja's tears glistening. I stepped closer, arm around her shoulders "for comfort," feeling her tremble. Arjun's eyes burned into me—he knew. But her unconditional love for him was cracking; my money, my "kindness," would pull her my side. The night deepened, dynamics shifting like tides—her loyalty tested, his hatred brewing, my desire veiled in help.
Chapter 4 - Arjun turmoil deepens while Vikram's exhibits his care
The tension at the Mahabalipuram guesthouse hung thick as the sea calmed into dawn. After Arjun's faint and the heated exchange, Pooja stepped forward, her voice steady despite the night's strain. "Let's ease this, please. The debt's written off now with Vikram's help—let's go home." Her eyes softened on Arjun, still slumped and feigning drunkenness. Vikram nodded, assessing her. "Do you know how to drive, Pooja?" She nodded. "Yes, I can." He handed her his car keys. "Take it. I'll follow you—he's in no state. Get him home safe." Pooja agreed, guiding Arjun to the passenger seat, her resolve unshaken by his silence.
The car rolled toward Chennai, Pooja's hands firm on the wheel, Arjun mute beside her, his mind churning. He stared out the window, devising plans to distance himself—1. A fake call from a debt collector to trigger a breakdown, pushing her to Vikram; 2. Another call to force the same; 3. Lashing out at her before staff, blaming her interference; 4. Destroying a wedding photo to provoke her. But doubt crept in. None will work, he thought. Pooja's too smart—she'll see through my act. She knows this isn't me. If I try these, she'll cling harder, trying to fix me, not leave. He needed a plan where she'd move away organically, without his retreat. The road stretched, his mind racing for that elusive strategy.
Vikram trailed behind in his own car, his route diverging slightly but always realigning, watching Pooja's careful driving. Arjun noticed the lights flashing in the mirror—Vikram's presence a shadow. As they neared their Chennai home, Arjun muttered, "I'll park inside. Send him off." Pooja stepped out, leading Vikram away, her figure a silhouette against the dawn. Arjun parked, the engine's hum fading, and entered the house, expecting her to follow. Minutes passed—too long. Worry gnawed; at his state, she should've rushed in. He crept back outside, peering into the dim light.
There, Vikram stood close, his voice low as he cracked a joke that drew a soft, genuine laugh from Pooja, the sound cutting through the morning stillness like a fragile melody. Her face, etched with exhaustion yet brightened by gratitude, turned to him as she said, "Vikram, thank you for helping us—truly." Vikram's hand rested on her shoulder, his fingers lingering with a warmth that seemed both comforting and possessive, his smile widening as he replied, "My pleasure to help friends," his tone smooth, his eyes glinting with an undercurrent of intent that Arjun couldn't ignore. The dawn light caught the edges of Vikram's car as he finally drove off, the taillights fading into the distance, leaving Pooja at the gate, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of their home. Arjun watched, his breath shallow, a realization sinking deep—Vikram could be the key. If he draws her in with his kindness, his money, his subtle advances, she might step away organically. But how will she hate me? Guilt will bind her unless I give her a reason to let go without remorse. His mind shifted, rejecting Vikram as the sole trigger. He needed another plan, one untainted by Vikram's shadow, to make her despise him enough to ease into another life. Perhaps a confession of a fabricated betrayal—claiming a past affair, a lie so vile it would shatter her trust, leaving her free to move on without the weight of his illness. Or maybe a public disgrace, accusing her of sabotaging his startup with forged evidence, turning her love to loathing. Yes, he thought, something that paints me as the villain she must escape, not a martyr she'll mourn. The idea took root, dark and deliberate, as he turned back inside, the house silent but for the echo of his plotting, convinced that Vikram's presence might nudge her away, but only his own crafted hatred could set her free to love again.
The night unfurled its dark wings over the Mahabalipuram guesthouse, where the air hung heavy with salt and unspoken tension. Earlier that evening, Arjun, grappling with a terminal diagnosis and a crumbling startup burdened by debt, fled to this sanctuary of past love, feigning drunkenness to push Pooja away and ignite her hatred. Meanwhile, Pooja, frantic after learning of his hospital visit and faint, enlisted Vikram's help to track him down. Their journey converged at the guesthouse, where the trio faced a storm of emotions—Arjun's desperate lies, Pooja's unwavering devotion, and Vikram's calculated kindness laced with perverse intent. As the sea roared outside, their dynamics fractured under the weight of sacrifice, blame, and hidden desire. Hear it from each of their perspectives:
Pooja's POV The guesthouse door flew open as I burst in, heart pounding like the waves outside. "Arjun!" I cried, spotting him collapsed on the bed, pale and unmoving. Vikram was right behind me, his presence a steady anchor in my panic. I rushed to Arjun's side, cradling his head, my fingers brushing his clammy forehead. "Wake up, love. Please." He stirred, eyes fluttering open, hazy and unfocused. Relief flooded me—he was alive, breathing. "What happened? Why here?" I whispered, stroking his cheek. Vikram hovered at the door, his voice calm. "He might've fainted again. Let's get him water." I nodded, my love for Arjun surging unconditional, ready to hold him through anything. Even as he mumbled something about debt and my "fault," I squeezed his hand. "We'll fix it together. I'm here."
Arjun sat up slowly, reeking of stale alcohol, though I knew he hadn't drunk today. "Pooja... you came," he slurred, but his eyes were sharp for a second before glazing over. I helped him to the porch, the sea air crisp against my skin. "Tell me what's wrong," I urged, sitting beside him, my chudidhar damp from the run. Vikram joined us, offering a bottle. "Drink this, Arjun." Arjun waved it away, turning to me with accusation. "The startup's drowning in debt because of you—always pushing me to quit the job, now look!" His words stung, but I saw the pain beneath. "No, Arjun, we'll support each other. I have savings; we'll pay it off." My loyalty burned—how could I leave him now?
Vikram's hand brushed my shoulder as he leaned in, "consoling" me. "He's stressed, Pooja. Don't take it to heart." His touch lingered a beat too long, sending a shiver, but I focused on Arjun, ignoring it. Arjun glared at the contact, but I pulled Vikram's arm away gently. "Thank you for bringing me." Arjun's blame escalated—"You never understood the pressure!"—yet I held his hand. "I love you unconditionally. We'll get through this." Vikram nodded, his eyes on me, soft but intense. "If debt's the issue, I can help. Friends are for that." He pulled out his phone, transferring 5 lakhs instantly. "For Pooja's sake, not yours, Arjun—you waste time drinking." His words hung, indirect but pointed, but I saw only kindness. Arjun's face darkened, but I hugged him. "See? We're not alone."
Arjun's POV The faint lifted like fog, Pooja's face the first thing I saw—her worry twisting my gut. I had to push harder, make her hate me before the truth bound her forever. Pretending drunk, I slurred, "Pooja, you... you ruined everything." Her eyes widened, but she cradled me, unconditional as always. Vikram stood there, his gaze raking over her, and I couldn't miss it—the hunger from years ago. On the porch, sea wind whipping, I blamed her for the startup debt, acting sloppy. "If you hadn't nagged me to start this, we'd be fine!" Lies, all to spark hatred, but her hand in mine felt like chains. Vikram's arm on her shoulder—too close—ignited my rage, but I played it cool, eyes locked on his wandering hand.
She defended me, "We'll fix it," her love a wall I couldn't breach. Vikram's eyes lingered on her curves, perverse glint hidden behind concern. He "accidentally" brushed her waist handing water, and I seethed, but stayed silent—part of the plan. "Debt's killing me," I groaned, blaming her "distractions." She vowed support, tears in her eyes. Vikram seized it, phone out. "I'll send 5 lakhs—for Pooja's sake, not you, the drunk fool." His indirect jab at me, eyes devouring her, confirmed it—he was circling. Not this soon, but destiny's cruel joke. Jealousy burned, but relief flickered; he'd take her when I was gone. Her hug choked me—I had to make her despise this life with me.
Vikram's POV Pooja's panic was raw as we found Arjun fainted on the bed. I hung back, letting her rush to him, my eyes tracing her frantic form—the way her chudidhar hugged her hips. Focus, I told myself, but the old hunger stirred. On the porch, sea salt thick in the air, I watched Arjun slur blame at her—"Debt's your fault, Pooja!"—his "drunk" act obvious, but she clung to him, loyal to a fault. Perfect opening. I leaned in, hand on her shoulder, feeling her warmth. "He's lashing out from stress," I murmured, thumb grazing her skin a second too long, the touch electric. Her shiver? Fear or something else? Perverse thoughts crept—imagining pulling her closer—but I shoved them down, disgusted yet thrilled.
She brushed my hand off gently, focused on him, but I caught Arjun's glare—he saw everything. Good. "If debt's the problem," I said, pulling out my phone, "I'll help. 5 lakhs, sent now—for Pooja's sake, not you wasting time drinking, Arjun." My words sliced indirect, eyes locking on hers, willing her to see me as savior. She smiled gratefully, her curves shifting as she hugged him—god, the view. I "accidentally" bumped her arm handing a cloth, savoring the contact, body reacting despite the shame. Why her, why now? But Arjun's act cracked their bond; she'd turn to me soon. As she vowed support, I nodded, hand hovering near her waist—consoling, always consoling—my perverse nature whispering to seize the moment.
The sea crashed below as Arjun's blame echoed, Pooja's tears glistening. I stepped closer, arm around her shoulders "for comfort," feeling her tremble. Arjun's eyes burned into me—he knew. But her unconditional love for him was cracking; my money, my "kindness," would pull her my side. The night deepened, dynamics shifting like tides—her loyalty tested, his hatred brewing, my desire veiled in help.
Chapter 4 - Arjun turmoil deepens while Vikram's exhibits his care
The tension at the Mahabalipuram guesthouse hung thick as the sea calmed into dawn. After Arjun's faint and the heated exchange, Pooja stepped forward, her voice steady despite the night's strain. "Let's ease this, please. The debt's written off now with Vikram's help—let's go home." Her eyes softened on Arjun, still slumped and feigning drunkenness. Vikram nodded, assessing her. "Do you know how to drive, Pooja?" She nodded. "Yes, I can." He handed her his car keys. "Take it. I'll follow you—he's in no state. Get him home safe." Pooja agreed, guiding Arjun to the passenger seat, her resolve unshaken by his silence.
The car rolled toward Chennai, Pooja's hands firm on the wheel, Arjun mute beside her, his mind churning. He stared out the window, devising plans to distance himself—1. A fake call from a debt collector to trigger a breakdown, pushing her to Vikram; 2. Another call to force the same; 3. Lashing out at her before staff, blaming her interference; 4. Destroying a wedding photo to provoke her. But doubt crept in. None will work, he thought. Pooja's too smart—she'll see through my act. She knows this isn't me. If I try these, she'll cling harder, trying to fix me, not leave. He needed a plan where she'd move away organically, without his retreat. The road stretched, his mind racing for that elusive strategy.
Vikram trailed behind in his own car, his route diverging slightly but always realigning, watching Pooja's careful driving. Arjun noticed the lights flashing in the mirror—Vikram's presence a shadow. As they neared their Chennai home, Arjun muttered, "I'll park inside. Send him off." Pooja stepped out, leading Vikram away, her figure a silhouette against the dawn. Arjun parked, the engine's hum fading, and entered the house, expecting her to follow. Minutes passed—too long. Worry gnawed; at his state, she should've rushed in. He crept back outside, peering into the dim light.
There, Vikram stood close, his voice low as he cracked a joke that drew a soft, genuine laugh from Pooja, the sound cutting through the morning stillness like a fragile melody. Her face, etched with exhaustion yet brightened by gratitude, turned to him as she said, "Vikram, thank you for helping us—truly." Vikram's hand rested on her shoulder, his fingers lingering with a warmth that seemed both comforting and possessive, his smile widening as he replied, "My pleasure to help friends," his tone smooth, his eyes glinting with an undercurrent of intent that Arjun couldn't ignore. The dawn light caught the edges of Vikram's car as he finally drove off, the taillights fading into the distance, leaving Pooja at the gate, her silhouette framed by the soft glow of their home. Arjun watched, his breath shallow, a realization sinking deep—Vikram could be the key. If he draws her in with his kindness, his money, his subtle advances, she might step away organically. But how will she hate me? Guilt will bind her unless I give her a reason to let go without remorse. His mind shifted, rejecting Vikram as the sole trigger. He needed another plan, one untainted by Vikram's shadow, to make her despise him enough to ease into another life. Perhaps a confession of a fabricated betrayal—claiming a past affair, a lie so vile it would shatter her trust, leaving her free to move on without the weight of his illness. Or maybe a public disgrace, accusing her of sabotaging his startup with forged evidence, turning her love to loathing. Yes, he thought, something that paints me as the villain she must escape, not a martyr she'll mourn. The idea took root, dark and deliberate, as he turned back inside, the house silent but for the echo of his plotting, convinced that Vikram's presence might nudge her away, but only his own crafted hatred could set her free to love again.
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