11-12-2025, 09:09 PM
Chapter 16: Pooja's Secret Date with Vikram: While Arjun records them [18+]
Vikram's mobile pinged with a soft tone in the stillness of Friday night, .
It was Pooja: What should I wear for the date?
A slow smile spread across his face as he typed back, Will it be by my choice?
Her reply came swiftly, It's your day, I will comply for you.
Emboldened, Vikram texted, Yellow saree. I'll pick you up at 7 AM. Good night, my love. Ten minutes later,
he sent a detailed schedule:
Don't forget the yellow saree. Morning temple, followed by housewarming, lunch at Park Luxury Hotel, evening beach walk, later in night at your guesthouse rooftop cake cut. Pooja's response glowed on his screen: I noted it. Good night, my love.
Vikram's heart raced as he texted, You called me love? She replied, As a promise, I'm your one-day love, till tomorrow night. At 2 AM, Arjun, restless and spying from the shadows of the hallway, caught the faint glow of Pooja's smile as she typed. His stomach churned. Silently, he snatched her phone—knowing the passcode—and scrolled through the messages. With trembling hands, he took screenshots and recorded a video, muttering, Proof for the adultery case. He slipped back to bed, his mind a storm of resolve.
Morning broke on Sunday, Pooja rose early, her heart aflutter with nervous excitement. She adorned herself in the yellow saree, its vibrant folds accentuating her grace, and applied minimal makeup, her hands steady despite the turmoil within.
She informed Arjun, "I have early work at the office."
He raised an eyebrow, "Sunday office?"
"Yes, important client work," she lied, her voice betraying a slight tremor.
Downstairs, at precisely 7 AM, Vikram's car purred to a stop. She stepped out, her face lighting up with a radiant smile, "Happy birthday, Vikram!" Meeting him after three days felt like an eternity—his absence had carved a deep ache she hadn't fully grasped until now.
At 9 AM, he drove her to his new apartment. She gasped at the modern decor—sleek furniture, warm lighting, and thoughtful interior touches. "You have good taste," she said, her voice tinged with admiration.
Then, noticing the silence, she asked, "You said there's a housewarming—why is no one here?"
Vikram's eyes softened as he took her hand, leading her inside.
"I invited only you. You're the only important person to me right now."
Her breath caught as he guided her to a small ritual pooja.
Afterward, they cooked sweets together in the gleaming kitchen, feeding each other with laughter, the air thick with unspoken intimacy.
Vikram then led her to the bedroom, he said my bedroom has secret, he clicked a button and wardbore hidden room cupboard opens, the cupboard, revealing a box brimming with her photos, lost objects, and love symbols—scarves she'd left behind, a hairpin, a scribbled note. He treastured it like gold, with dates on it notes on it a diary full of his poems on her. Hows my bedroom secret, vikram asked. Overwhelmed, tears welled in Pooja's eyes. "Why do you love me so much?" she whispered. "I don't know," Vikram replied, his voice raw. "I just do." She smiled through her tears, a mix of gratitude and guilt.
Meanwhile, Arjun, expcted their precense for his scheme, waited at Park Luxury Hotel. He bribed a staff member to install a hidden camera, securing the WhatsApp screenshots and Pooja's Sunday lie as evidence. He sent men to Vikram's apartment, but they missed a clear shot—only capturing Vikram and Pooja entering and locking the door for three hours. Enough for adultery, Arjun thought, though he lingered in the lobby, placing another recorder. One more camera needed. Soon, Pooja's laughter and Vikram's flirtatious murmurs filled the air as they arrived. Vikram leaned close, his hand brushing her waist as they sat. The waiter, complicit, placed the hidden camera. They discussed food, Vikram saying, "Pooja, I never thought you'd come on a date with me. It's been a thrill ride—hope you never forget this day." Pooja smiled, "How could I? The bedroom Secrets—I won't forget it for my life, i never experienced it elsewhere, not even arjun gave me the fullness." A waiter interrupted, and they resumed, peppering "my love" into every sentence. Arjun, hidden, felt each word like a blade, so they had sex in the room, bedroom secret? his disease paling against this silent agony.
Evening brought a beach walk, their hands entwined, hearts laid bare in conversation. Vikram rented a horse, sitting behind Pooja, their bodies colliding with each jolt. Arjun, using a proxy, recorded it, his resolve hardening. Knowing the guesthouse was next, he drove there, hiding intentionally on the rooftop garden.
At 8 PM, Vikram's jeep rolled up. Spotting Arjun's car at a distance, he suspected spying but couldn't locate him. Inside, Pooja arranged the rooftop table, then blindfolded Vikram with her hands, whispering, "Happy birthday, my love."
"Thanks, darling," he replied, as they fed each other cake.
He pulled her onto his lap on a cushion, saying, "Pooja, thanks for the day. This is enough for me to die peacefully." She slapped his face lightly, "You will live long, with the love you deserve."
Their eyes locked, and Vikram asked, "Be frank—what if you'd seen my love before Arjun? Would you have chosen me?" "Maybe," she admitted, "but your love is pure—I can't reciprocate it."
He kissed her lips; she turned, and it landed on her cheek. Unsettled, Arjun watched from the shadows.
As they prepared to leave the guesthouse rooftop, the air still thick with the scent of cake and the fading warmth of their shared moment, Vikram's sharp eyes caught a flicker of movement in the shadows. Arjun emerged from the garden, his silhouette stark against the dim streetlights, his face a mask of anguish and betrayal.
Realizing he'd been seen, Vikram's pulse quickened with a mix of triumph and dread. Seizing the moment, his mind reeled let me show him who is the master her, whose women she is , he gripped Pooja's wrist, his voice low and urgent, "Come with me," as he dragged her toward the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them with a finality that echoed in her chest.
"I want to feel your lips, your love once," he pleaded, his eyes searching hers, a desperate edge to his tone that betrayed his longing. Pooja, caught in the whirlwind of her own emotions, leaned in hesitantly, pressing a brief, trembling kiss to his lips before pulling back, her breath shallow, her mind screaming with guilt. But Vikram, emboldened by her proximity, persisted, his hands framing her face as he drew her into a deep, passionate kiss.
Her resistance melted under the intensity, her body yielding to a 20-minute embrace that felt like a surrender to a tide she couldn't control—her heart racing with forbidden desire, yet aching with the weight of her vows.
The embrace shifted as Vikram's arms encircled her from behind, his hands sliding boldly to her breasts, a possessive hunger in his touch. With a single, decisive push, he dropped her saree, the fabric pooling at her feet as she stumbled onto the bed, her breath catching in a gasp of shock. Vikram shed his shirt, his movements swift and deliberate, climbing atop her with a fervor that pressed their chests together, her blouse straining as her breasts met his skin in a crushing 10-minute kiss.
The fabric gave way as he unbuttoned it with a swift pull, her bouncy curves spilling free, exposed and vulnerable. Panic surged through Pooja, her mind a battlefield of longing and shame. "Not today," she gasped, her voice breaking, tears welling as she grappled with the betrayal of her own body's response.
Vikram paused, a knowing smile curling his lips as he registered her words—not "I don't want" or "we shouldn't," just "not today"—a loophole that fueled his hope. "Not today?" he pressed gently, his voice a mix of desire and restraint.
She managed a faint smile, fumbling to button her blouse, her hands shaking as she tried to reclaim her dignity. "I mean we shouldn't," she whispered, her tone laced with regret, reaching out to shake him gently, as if to wake him from his fervor. Leaning in, she kissed him again, a tender, apologetic press of lips, "This is all I can do—please understand me," she pleaded, her voice cracking with the weight of her torn heart. Vikram returned the kiss, his touch softening, "That's okay—I know you're here already," he murmured, his words a bittersweet acknowledgment of her conflicted surrender.
Outside, Arjun stood frozen in the second floor the recorder slipping from his trembling hands to the floor, forgotten. The sight of Pooja and Vikram—her yielding, his advance—unfolded like a dagger to his soul, each moment a fresh wound of betrayal. His heart ached with a visceral pain, far beyond the physical torment of his cancer. No longer driven to record, he sank to his knees, tears streaming silently down his face, his plan crumbling under the weight of his love and despair. The evidence he'd sought to justify his divorce now felt meaningless—her infidelity was real, but so was his role in pushing her there. I did this, he thought, his mind a storm of guilt and resolve, knowing his cruel end was near, not just from disease but from the loss of the woman he'd sworn to protect.
Chapter 17: Anjali's Entry & Arjun unleashing his scheme
Continuation
As Arjun rose from the floor outside the room where vikram and pooja was seen in an uncompromising position, the sting of betrayal still raw in his chest, he forced his emotions into a steel cage, his mind snapping into action. Wiping tears from his face, he stumbled out of the guesthouse, his steps heavy with resolve. He slid into his car, the engine roaring to life as he gripped the wheel, his breath ragged.
Dialing Anjali, his voice was clipped, "Hi, mam, I need help. I've advanced my plans—can you come to my house?" She responded warmly, "Yes, brother, I'll arrive in 20 minutes." The call ended, and he sped off, his heart a battlefield of love and vengeance.
Back inside the guesthouse, Pooja stood in the bedroom, her hands trembling as she adjusted her disheveled yellow saree, the fabric clinging awkwardly to her frame. Shame burned her cheeks—Vikram, a man not her husband, had tasted her lips, seen her half-nude, his hands exploring where only Arjun should have ventured. Guilt warred with a shy thrill, her mind replaying the intensity of their embrace, the boundary she'd nearly crossed. She buttoned her blouse with shaky fingers, smoothing her hair as Vikram waited outside, both dressing properly to mask the storm within.
As they climbed into the Thar jeep, Vikram's thoughts spiraled.
Something's off—Arjun peeked at us twice, hiding like a shadow. How did I miss it? Was I too lost in Pooja? The realization gnawed at him.
This second sighting, unlike the first, didn't spark confrontation or shame—instead, a dark urge to cuckold Arjun with his actions surged within him.
Why would a husband watch silently?
Does he enjoy this? Doesn't he love her—or is he eyeing someone else, planning to break away?
Questions battered his mind, but he kept them buried, deciding, I won't let Pooja know I saw Arjun. Not yet.
Beside him, Pooja sat lost in thought, tears slipping down her cheeks. Vikram glanced over, concern etching his face. "Why are you crying, Pooja?"
She wiped her eyes, her voice breaking, "Maybe your love is pure, but Arjun has no idea I'm with you. It's cheating, Vikram—I feel awful about myself." He reached for her hand, his tone soothing, "It's not cheating, Pooja. You're just starting to reciprocate my love. You never kissed me—I pulled you.
Don't feel bad." She pulled her hand back, drawing a firm line. "Okay, as you wished, I've been your one-day love. You kissed me, got more than you wanted. Let's stop here. From tomorrow, just office friends—no personal meets, no deep talks. I'll fix things with Arjun.
Hopefully, that resolves it." Her gaze fixed outside, avoiding his eyes. Vikram nodded silently, his mind churning with other suspicions as the jeep rumbled toward home.
At the house, a car parked at the gate caught their eye. Vikram recognized it—Anjali's, from outside her clinic. Pooja's stomach dropped, panic flaring as she decided to enter with Vikram.
Inside, Anjali and Arjun sat on the sofa, laughing over something.
As they stepped in, Arjun's voice was casual, "Hey, hi. Ahh, Pooja, this is Ms. Anjali, my friend, a client. She felt bored, so I invited her.
She's my wife," he introduced to Anjali.
Anjali smiled, "Hi, Pooja, he's said a lot about you."
Vikram stood beside Pooja, and Anjali pointed, "And you... I've met you before—you asked about Arjun, right?"
Vikram nodded, "Yes, I saw him at your place, inquired if he had problems."
"No issues," Anjali said lightly.
Pooja's world froze—meeting a woman rumored to be her husband's lover, brought home while she was away, felt like a slap.
Vikram's mind raced, Impossible—he arrived 10 minutes ago. How's this drama staged? Something's fishy. "
Okay, I'll send her off," Arjun said, escorting Anjali to the gate with a goodbye.
Back in the hall, Arjun headed to the bedroom.
Pooja blocked him, her voice sharp, "Answer me!"
"What?" he snapped. "Is that not your lover?"
she accused, her words slipping out.
"Watch your words," Arjun warned. How dare you to accuse a business women after all you should thank her for helping me out, unlike you just work for some random IT Job, have you ever seen my side of struggle, if not for Anjali, i dont know what would have me today .
Pooja's anger erupted, "Oh, you forget it right? Am i useless and that Anjali is your sole helper in your business. Have you forget how you started its all with my money,
You want a startup, money, love, no kids—just sex? What am I?
Now, with your new client, you're slipping behind her, smiling at her—why not me?"
Arjun's tone turned cold, "Listen, Pooja, I'm signing a deal with her tomorrow—a crore business deal. I'll give you 30 lakhs: 20 you gave for me im returning it, 10 is interest.
Basically, You've done nothing, other than helping money with im settling that , you are nothing before what she gonna do and you have gust to compare with her. Know your place and keep quiet."
Enraged, Pooja dragged him to the sofa, shoving him down. "What did you say?" Why didnt you show this face before? where were you when you proposed me is that all acting?
A fight ensued.
Arjun retorted, "I'm telling the truth. Back when I loved, I was blind—you looked good, I fell for it. Now my network's growing. Thing may change.
We might've loved a Toyota, but people upgrade to BMW later."
Pooja's voice rose, "What? So she's your love?"
"No, she's my new partner. Like i married you for money and you supported me, she's supporting me on paper as a company partner.
She can enter my company, but not here—I won't allow it."
Arjun sneered, "Who are you to stop her? This isn't your house. You need my approval to stay.
Keep quiet, or wait i will surprise you with soem thing. Arjun went and come back after 15 mins.
He fetched a suitcase with him and said. "Stay if you drop the tantrums; otherwise, leave.
Vikram who watche these, grabbed her hand pooja come with me he dont deserve you, how arrogant his blood boiled.
Pooja left his hand and said, im not done vikram he is showing his real face, if he had show his true face i would not be in a mess like this. He has to answer me.
Answer bullshit, arjun said, You only have t wo option stay here quiet, i will consider giving you a share in company, or move out if you want trouble.
See practically no one will take you back, you have an unmarried sister, you father will ask you to adjust, you have no real friends here, now you witnessed my self just be silent thats your only option you havve no place to go , you have no shame just admit and take this things enter your room, sorry sorry not my bedroom, stay where vikram stayed you are just a guest from nowon, may be, stay good i can shower you some love if you are lucky, if im on mood.
Pooja in tears turned to vikram and asked: Vikram said i will
Arjun said: Vikram can take you for a week—he'll kick you out. Who'd want a troublesome ex-wife? Vikram, get her a women's hostel—I'll pay for a few weeks." Pooja slapped him, tears streaming,
"Vikram's far better—he truly loves me."
Arjun mocked, "Oh, your lover boy—I forgot.
Vikram slapped him you dont have the rights to tarnish her, yes i love her , so what, im sincere i care for her not a cheap person like you,
Stop it guys, See Pooja is not important anymore; I'm tired. If you have shame, go out; if not, stay." Im generously giving her option, after everything came on table.
His words pierced her pride. "Vikram, will you leave me abandoned?" she cried.
"Till my life ends, I won't," he vowed.
"You'll regret this," she spat, storming out with Vikram.
The Thar jeep raced to Vikram's apartment, his mind reeling. Arjun watched us, stayed silent, flaunted his affair, and threw her to me—what game is this?
Pooja sobbed beside him, muttering, "I should tell my father."
Vikram advised, "Don't complicate things—let's watch tomorrow carefully."
At the apartment, he helped with her luggage, offering consoling words. Unable to sleep in the bedroom, she leaned on him. Vikram held her, letting her rest on his shoulder. "As I always said, my arms are for you. Whatever happens, I'm here," he whispered.
She drifted off, unaware of when sleep claimed her. Morning light revealed Vikram's rugged face, asleep like a child, their bodies entwined from the night, her yellow saree disheveled, kungum smudged on his cheek. He woke, startled, "Sorry, I was worried, so I stayed."
"It's okay," Pooja murmured. They stepped out, only to face a shocking sight awaiting them.
Vikram's mobile pinged with a soft tone in the stillness of Friday night, .
It was Pooja: What should I wear for the date?
A slow smile spread across his face as he typed back, Will it be by my choice?
Her reply came swiftly, It's your day, I will comply for you.
Emboldened, Vikram texted, Yellow saree. I'll pick you up at 7 AM. Good night, my love. Ten minutes later,
he sent a detailed schedule:
Don't forget the yellow saree. Morning temple, followed by housewarming, lunch at Park Luxury Hotel, evening beach walk, later in night at your guesthouse rooftop cake cut. Pooja's response glowed on his screen: I noted it. Good night, my love.
Vikram's heart raced as he texted, You called me love? She replied, As a promise, I'm your one-day love, till tomorrow night. At 2 AM, Arjun, restless and spying from the shadows of the hallway, caught the faint glow of Pooja's smile as she typed. His stomach churned. Silently, he snatched her phone—knowing the passcode—and scrolled through the messages. With trembling hands, he took screenshots and recorded a video, muttering, Proof for the adultery case. He slipped back to bed, his mind a storm of resolve.
Morning broke on Sunday, Pooja rose early, her heart aflutter with nervous excitement. She adorned herself in the yellow saree, its vibrant folds accentuating her grace, and applied minimal makeup, her hands steady despite the turmoil within.
She informed Arjun, "I have early work at the office."
He raised an eyebrow, "Sunday office?"
"Yes, important client work," she lied, her voice betraying a slight tremor.
Downstairs, at precisely 7 AM, Vikram's car purred to a stop. She stepped out, her face lighting up with a radiant smile, "Happy birthday, Vikram!" Meeting him after three days felt like an eternity—his absence had carved a deep ache she hadn't fully grasped until now.
At 9 AM, he drove her to his new apartment. She gasped at the modern decor—sleek furniture, warm lighting, and thoughtful interior touches. "You have good taste," she said, her voice tinged with admiration.
Then, noticing the silence, she asked, "You said there's a housewarming—why is no one here?"
Vikram's eyes softened as he took her hand, leading her inside.
"I invited only you. You're the only important person to me right now."
Her breath caught as he guided her to a small ritual pooja.
Afterward, they cooked sweets together in the gleaming kitchen, feeding each other with laughter, the air thick with unspoken intimacy.
Vikram then led her to the bedroom, he said my bedroom has secret, he clicked a button and wardbore hidden room cupboard opens, the cupboard, revealing a box brimming with her photos, lost objects, and love symbols—scarves she'd left behind, a hairpin, a scribbled note. He treastured it like gold, with dates on it notes on it a diary full of his poems on her. Hows my bedroom secret, vikram asked. Overwhelmed, tears welled in Pooja's eyes. "Why do you love me so much?" she whispered. "I don't know," Vikram replied, his voice raw. "I just do." She smiled through her tears, a mix of gratitude and guilt.
Meanwhile, Arjun, expcted their precense for his scheme, waited at Park Luxury Hotel. He bribed a staff member to install a hidden camera, securing the WhatsApp screenshots and Pooja's Sunday lie as evidence. He sent men to Vikram's apartment, but they missed a clear shot—only capturing Vikram and Pooja entering and locking the door for three hours. Enough for adultery, Arjun thought, though he lingered in the lobby, placing another recorder. One more camera needed. Soon, Pooja's laughter and Vikram's flirtatious murmurs filled the air as they arrived. Vikram leaned close, his hand brushing her waist as they sat. The waiter, complicit, placed the hidden camera. They discussed food, Vikram saying, "Pooja, I never thought you'd come on a date with me. It's been a thrill ride—hope you never forget this day." Pooja smiled, "How could I? The bedroom Secrets—I won't forget it for my life, i never experienced it elsewhere, not even arjun gave me the fullness." A waiter interrupted, and they resumed, peppering "my love" into every sentence. Arjun, hidden, felt each word like a blade, so they had sex in the room, bedroom secret? his disease paling against this silent agony.
Evening brought a beach walk, their hands entwined, hearts laid bare in conversation. Vikram rented a horse, sitting behind Pooja, their bodies colliding with each jolt. Arjun, using a proxy, recorded it, his resolve hardening. Knowing the guesthouse was next, he drove there, hiding intentionally on the rooftop garden.
At 8 PM, Vikram's jeep rolled up. Spotting Arjun's car at a distance, he suspected spying but couldn't locate him. Inside, Pooja arranged the rooftop table, then blindfolded Vikram with her hands, whispering, "Happy birthday, my love."
"Thanks, darling," he replied, as they fed each other cake.
He pulled her onto his lap on a cushion, saying, "Pooja, thanks for the day. This is enough for me to die peacefully." She slapped his face lightly, "You will live long, with the love you deserve."
Their eyes locked, and Vikram asked, "Be frank—what if you'd seen my love before Arjun? Would you have chosen me?" "Maybe," she admitted, "but your love is pure—I can't reciprocate it."
He kissed her lips; she turned, and it landed on her cheek. Unsettled, Arjun watched from the shadows.
As they prepared to leave the guesthouse rooftop, the air still thick with the scent of cake and the fading warmth of their shared moment, Vikram's sharp eyes caught a flicker of movement in the shadows. Arjun emerged from the garden, his silhouette stark against the dim streetlights, his face a mask of anguish and betrayal.
Realizing he'd been seen, Vikram's pulse quickened with a mix of triumph and dread. Seizing the moment, his mind reeled let me show him who is the master her, whose women she is , he gripped Pooja's wrist, his voice low and urgent, "Come with me," as he dragged her toward the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them with a finality that echoed in her chest.
"I want to feel your lips, your love once," he pleaded, his eyes searching hers, a desperate edge to his tone that betrayed his longing. Pooja, caught in the whirlwind of her own emotions, leaned in hesitantly, pressing a brief, trembling kiss to his lips before pulling back, her breath shallow, her mind screaming with guilt. But Vikram, emboldened by her proximity, persisted, his hands framing her face as he drew her into a deep, passionate kiss.
Her resistance melted under the intensity, her body yielding to a 20-minute embrace that felt like a surrender to a tide she couldn't control—her heart racing with forbidden desire, yet aching with the weight of her vows.
The embrace shifted as Vikram's arms encircled her from behind, his hands sliding boldly to her breasts, a possessive hunger in his touch. With a single, decisive push, he dropped her saree, the fabric pooling at her feet as she stumbled onto the bed, her breath catching in a gasp of shock. Vikram shed his shirt, his movements swift and deliberate, climbing atop her with a fervor that pressed their chests together, her blouse straining as her breasts met his skin in a crushing 10-minute kiss.
The fabric gave way as he unbuttoned it with a swift pull, her bouncy curves spilling free, exposed and vulnerable. Panic surged through Pooja, her mind a battlefield of longing and shame. "Not today," she gasped, her voice breaking, tears welling as she grappled with the betrayal of her own body's response.
Vikram paused, a knowing smile curling his lips as he registered her words—not "I don't want" or "we shouldn't," just "not today"—a loophole that fueled his hope. "Not today?" he pressed gently, his voice a mix of desire and restraint.
She managed a faint smile, fumbling to button her blouse, her hands shaking as she tried to reclaim her dignity. "I mean we shouldn't," she whispered, her tone laced with regret, reaching out to shake him gently, as if to wake him from his fervor. Leaning in, she kissed him again, a tender, apologetic press of lips, "This is all I can do—please understand me," she pleaded, her voice cracking with the weight of her torn heart. Vikram returned the kiss, his touch softening, "That's okay—I know you're here already," he murmured, his words a bittersweet acknowledgment of her conflicted surrender.
Outside, Arjun stood frozen in the second floor the recorder slipping from his trembling hands to the floor, forgotten. The sight of Pooja and Vikram—her yielding, his advance—unfolded like a dagger to his soul, each moment a fresh wound of betrayal. His heart ached with a visceral pain, far beyond the physical torment of his cancer. No longer driven to record, he sank to his knees, tears streaming silently down his face, his plan crumbling under the weight of his love and despair. The evidence he'd sought to justify his divorce now felt meaningless—her infidelity was real, but so was his role in pushing her there. I did this, he thought, his mind a storm of guilt and resolve, knowing his cruel end was near, not just from disease but from the loss of the woman he'd sworn to protect.
Chapter 17: Anjali's Entry & Arjun unleashing his scheme
Continuation
As Arjun rose from the floor outside the room where vikram and pooja was seen in an uncompromising position, the sting of betrayal still raw in his chest, he forced his emotions into a steel cage, his mind snapping into action. Wiping tears from his face, he stumbled out of the guesthouse, his steps heavy with resolve. He slid into his car, the engine roaring to life as he gripped the wheel, his breath ragged.
Dialing Anjali, his voice was clipped, "Hi, mam, I need help. I've advanced my plans—can you come to my house?" She responded warmly, "Yes, brother, I'll arrive in 20 minutes." The call ended, and he sped off, his heart a battlefield of love and vengeance.
Back inside the guesthouse, Pooja stood in the bedroom, her hands trembling as she adjusted her disheveled yellow saree, the fabric clinging awkwardly to her frame. Shame burned her cheeks—Vikram, a man not her husband, had tasted her lips, seen her half-nude, his hands exploring where only Arjun should have ventured. Guilt warred with a shy thrill, her mind replaying the intensity of their embrace, the boundary she'd nearly crossed. She buttoned her blouse with shaky fingers, smoothing her hair as Vikram waited outside, both dressing properly to mask the storm within.
As they climbed into the Thar jeep, Vikram's thoughts spiraled.
Something's off—Arjun peeked at us twice, hiding like a shadow. How did I miss it? Was I too lost in Pooja? The realization gnawed at him.
This second sighting, unlike the first, didn't spark confrontation or shame—instead, a dark urge to cuckold Arjun with his actions surged within him.
Why would a husband watch silently?
Does he enjoy this? Doesn't he love her—or is he eyeing someone else, planning to break away?
Questions battered his mind, but he kept them buried, deciding, I won't let Pooja know I saw Arjun. Not yet.
Beside him, Pooja sat lost in thought, tears slipping down her cheeks. Vikram glanced over, concern etching his face. "Why are you crying, Pooja?"
She wiped her eyes, her voice breaking, "Maybe your love is pure, but Arjun has no idea I'm with you. It's cheating, Vikram—I feel awful about myself." He reached for her hand, his tone soothing, "It's not cheating, Pooja. You're just starting to reciprocate my love. You never kissed me—I pulled you.
Don't feel bad." She pulled her hand back, drawing a firm line. "Okay, as you wished, I've been your one-day love. You kissed me, got more than you wanted. Let's stop here. From tomorrow, just office friends—no personal meets, no deep talks. I'll fix things with Arjun.
Hopefully, that resolves it." Her gaze fixed outside, avoiding his eyes. Vikram nodded silently, his mind churning with other suspicions as the jeep rumbled toward home.
At the house, a car parked at the gate caught their eye. Vikram recognized it—Anjali's, from outside her clinic. Pooja's stomach dropped, panic flaring as she decided to enter with Vikram.
Inside, Anjali and Arjun sat on the sofa, laughing over something.
As they stepped in, Arjun's voice was casual, "Hey, hi. Ahh, Pooja, this is Ms. Anjali, my friend, a client. She felt bored, so I invited her.
She's my wife," he introduced to Anjali.
Anjali smiled, "Hi, Pooja, he's said a lot about you."
Vikram stood beside Pooja, and Anjali pointed, "And you... I've met you before—you asked about Arjun, right?"
Vikram nodded, "Yes, I saw him at your place, inquired if he had problems."
"No issues," Anjali said lightly.
Pooja's world froze—meeting a woman rumored to be her husband's lover, brought home while she was away, felt like a slap.
Vikram's mind raced, Impossible—he arrived 10 minutes ago. How's this drama staged? Something's fishy. "
Okay, I'll send her off," Arjun said, escorting Anjali to the gate with a goodbye.
Back in the hall, Arjun headed to the bedroom.
Pooja blocked him, her voice sharp, "Answer me!"
"What?" he snapped. "Is that not your lover?"
she accused, her words slipping out.
"Watch your words," Arjun warned. How dare you to accuse a business women after all you should thank her for helping me out, unlike you just work for some random IT Job, have you ever seen my side of struggle, if not for Anjali, i dont know what would have me today .
Pooja's anger erupted, "Oh, you forget it right? Am i useless and that Anjali is your sole helper in your business. Have you forget how you started its all with my money,
You want a startup, money, love, no kids—just sex? What am I?
Now, with your new client, you're slipping behind her, smiling at her—why not me?"
Arjun's tone turned cold, "Listen, Pooja, I'm signing a deal with her tomorrow—a crore business deal. I'll give you 30 lakhs: 20 you gave for me im returning it, 10 is interest.
Basically, You've done nothing, other than helping money with im settling that , you are nothing before what she gonna do and you have gust to compare with her. Know your place and keep quiet."
Enraged, Pooja dragged him to the sofa, shoving him down. "What did you say?" Why didnt you show this face before? where were you when you proposed me is that all acting?
A fight ensued.
Arjun retorted, "I'm telling the truth. Back when I loved, I was blind—you looked good, I fell for it. Now my network's growing. Thing may change.
We might've loved a Toyota, but people upgrade to BMW later."
Pooja's voice rose, "What? So she's your love?"
"No, she's my new partner. Like i married you for money and you supported me, she's supporting me on paper as a company partner.
She can enter my company, but not here—I won't allow it."
Arjun sneered, "Who are you to stop her? This isn't your house. You need my approval to stay.
Keep quiet, or wait i will surprise you with soem thing. Arjun went and come back after 15 mins.
He fetched a suitcase with him and said. "Stay if you drop the tantrums; otherwise, leave.
Vikram who watche these, grabbed her hand pooja come with me he dont deserve you, how arrogant his blood boiled.
Pooja left his hand and said, im not done vikram he is showing his real face, if he had show his true face i would not be in a mess like this. He has to answer me.
Answer bullshit, arjun said, You only have t wo option stay here quiet, i will consider giving you a share in company, or move out if you want trouble.
See practically no one will take you back, you have an unmarried sister, you father will ask you to adjust, you have no real friends here, now you witnessed my self just be silent thats your only option you havve no place to go , you have no shame just admit and take this things enter your room, sorry sorry not my bedroom, stay where vikram stayed you are just a guest from nowon, may be, stay good i can shower you some love if you are lucky, if im on mood.
Pooja in tears turned to vikram and asked: Vikram said i will
Arjun said: Vikram can take you for a week—he'll kick you out. Who'd want a troublesome ex-wife? Vikram, get her a women's hostel—I'll pay for a few weeks." Pooja slapped him, tears streaming,
"Vikram's far better—he truly loves me."
Arjun mocked, "Oh, your lover boy—I forgot.
Vikram slapped him you dont have the rights to tarnish her, yes i love her , so what, im sincere i care for her not a cheap person like you,
Stop it guys, See Pooja is not important anymore; I'm tired. If you have shame, go out; if not, stay." Im generously giving her option, after everything came on table.
His words pierced her pride. "Vikram, will you leave me abandoned?" she cried.
"Till my life ends, I won't," he vowed.
"You'll regret this," she spat, storming out with Vikram.
The Thar jeep raced to Vikram's apartment, his mind reeling. Arjun watched us, stayed silent, flaunted his affair, and threw her to me—what game is this?
Pooja sobbed beside him, muttering, "I should tell my father."
Vikram advised, "Don't complicate things—let's watch tomorrow carefully."
At the apartment, he helped with her luggage, offering consoling words. Unable to sleep in the bedroom, she leaned on him. Vikram held her, letting her rest on his shoulder. "As I always said, my arms are for you. Whatever happens, I'm here," he whispered.
She drifted off, unaware of when sleep claimed her. Morning light revealed Vikram's rugged face, asleep like a child, their bodies entwined from the night, her yellow saree disheveled, kungum smudged on his cheek. He woke, startled, "Sorry, I was worried, so I stayed."
"It's okay," Pooja murmured. They stepped out, only to face a shocking sight awaiting them.
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