31-01-2026, 11:26 PM
Chapter 29: Thirty Days of Pain & The love finally proposed.
The warehouse fight put Vikram back to stage one.
Doctors at the private hospital were furious when Mohan brought him in — blood-soaked bandages, fresh stitches torn open, ribs cracked again, arm swollen under the sling. They ordered strict bed rest — at least 30 days, no movement, no stress, no arguments.
Vikram lay there, staring at the ceiling, pain a constant companion. He had finished the job for Sekaran — Samuel was safe, Aadharsh’s leverage broken, the pressure on Krish lifted. Sekaran was at peace. But Vikram paid the price in blood. Due to constant pain he was given painkillers which makes him sleep all the day.
Swathi visited the next day after her marriage to Krish was finalized.
She walked in quietly — eyes red. She cried for the first time for someone. Not dramatic tears — silent, steady, the kind that come from guilt deeper than words.
She sat beside his bed. “I don’t know why you did this for me… again.”
Vikram was sound sleep.
What swathi doesn't know was he didn't do it for her this time.. Its for Sekaran.
She stared, tears falling faster. “You took another beating… for someone else. While I got married, got my life back. And you…”
She reached for his hand. No motion from him..
“Where is Mirnaa,” she whispered. To mohan..
Swathi said let me call her..
Mohan shook his head — sharp, pained. “Don’t. Vikram asked not to tell her. She will worry.”
Swathi nodded, understanding. She stayed a while, silent. Then left — promising to check on him.
Krish’s network needed him back in Dubai. He decided to go — business, new life, Swathi by his side. Before leaving, he gave Mohan a thick envelope of money. “Use this if he needs anything. Call if you need anything And… thanked him again.”
Mohan took it. “He won’t take it for himself.”
Krish smiled sadly. “I know.”
The 30 days passed in pain.
Vikram healed slowly — bed-bound at first, then short walks with a nurse’s help, then longer ones alone. He thought of Mirna every day — her hand in his, her quiet smile, the way she never asked for anything. He wanted to call her. But he didn’t. Not yet. He wanted to be whole first. He also know if he call her now.. she would suspect him with his voice...
He was discharged on the 30th day. Mohan drove him back to the flat Swathi had arranged. Vikram’s body recovered in that way — slow, steady, stubborn.
Sekaran was at peace. Swathi gone to Dubai — no trouble reached for him. Vikram felt ease.
On the other side, in Kerala, Mirna thought about Vikram regularly. But she never got the call. She always expected it since he dropped her at the bus.
She cursed herself for not getting his number — only giving hers. She didn’t use her brain to call Swathi — whose card was still in her bag. She was such a naive.
Many thought Vikram didn’t want to pursue her… and left the topic on it.
Five days later…
Five days passed, and Mirna worked a shift at a hospital near her church — hands steady on bandages, thoughts drifting to him.
Evening settled. She trudged back, called by the head sister — a stern woman whose rare smile hinted at something.
Stepping into the office, Mirna stopped short.
Vikram stood there — shirt pressed despite its wear, grin wide. No bandages visible. He looked… whole.
Tears sprang free — her cry a blend of shock and joy.
The sister smiled as Vikram crossed the room. He folded her into his arms — careful, gentle. Her breath warm against his neck.
He spoke soft into her hair.
“I love you, Mirna. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?”
He was shy yet put the words awkwardly...
Her “yes” spilled out — shaky and sure.
He slid a plain ring onto her finger — eyes pleading, accepted with a nod.
Friends from the church — crouched behind a curtain — burst in — singing, clapping — a joyful clamor flooding the space, a moment drenched in love.
The warehouse fight put Vikram back to stage one.
Doctors at the private hospital were furious when Mohan brought him in — blood-soaked bandages, fresh stitches torn open, ribs cracked again, arm swollen under the sling. They ordered strict bed rest — at least 30 days, no movement, no stress, no arguments.
Vikram lay there, staring at the ceiling, pain a constant companion. He had finished the job for Sekaran — Samuel was safe, Aadharsh’s leverage broken, the pressure on Krish lifted. Sekaran was at peace. But Vikram paid the price in blood. Due to constant pain he was given painkillers which makes him sleep all the day.
Swathi visited the next day after her marriage to Krish was finalized.
She walked in quietly — eyes red. She cried for the first time for someone. Not dramatic tears — silent, steady, the kind that come from guilt deeper than words.
She sat beside his bed. “I don’t know why you did this for me… again.”
Vikram was sound sleep.
What swathi doesn't know was he didn't do it for her this time.. Its for Sekaran.
She stared, tears falling faster. “You took another beating… for someone else. While I got married, got my life back. And you…”
She reached for his hand. No motion from him..
“Where is Mirnaa,” she whispered. To mohan..
Swathi said let me call her..
Mohan shook his head — sharp, pained. “Don’t. Vikram asked not to tell her. She will worry.”
Swathi nodded, understanding. She stayed a while, silent. Then left — promising to check on him.
Krish’s network needed him back in Dubai. He decided to go — business, new life, Swathi by his side. Before leaving, he gave Mohan a thick envelope of money. “Use this if he needs anything. Call if you need anything And… thanked him again.”
Mohan took it. “He won’t take it for himself.”
Krish smiled sadly. “I know.”
The 30 days passed in pain.
Vikram healed slowly — bed-bound at first, then short walks with a nurse’s help, then longer ones alone. He thought of Mirna every day — her hand in his, her quiet smile, the way she never asked for anything. He wanted to call her. But he didn’t. Not yet. He wanted to be whole first. He also know if he call her now.. she would suspect him with his voice...
He was discharged on the 30th day. Mohan drove him back to the flat Swathi had arranged. Vikram’s body recovered in that way — slow, steady, stubborn.
Sekaran was at peace. Swathi gone to Dubai — no trouble reached for him. Vikram felt ease.
On the other side, in Kerala, Mirna thought about Vikram regularly. But she never got the call. She always expected it since he dropped her at the bus.
She cursed herself for not getting his number — only giving hers. She didn’t use her brain to call Swathi — whose card was still in her bag. She was such a naive.
Many thought Vikram didn’t want to pursue her… and left the topic on it.
Five days later…
Five days passed, and Mirna worked a shift at a hospital near her church — hands steady on bandages, thoughts drifting to him.
Evening settled. She trudged back, called by the head sister — a stern woman whose rare smile hinted at something.
Stepping into the office, Mirna stopped short.
Vikram stood there — shirt pressed despite its wear, grin wide. No bandages visible. He looked… whole.
Tears sprang free — her cry a blend of shock and joy.
The sister smiled as Vikram crossed the room. He folded her into his arms — careful, gentle. Her breath warm against his neck.
He spoke soft into her hair.
“I love you, Mirna. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?”
He was shy yet put the words awkwardly...
Her “yes” spilled out — shaky and sure.
He slid a plain ring onto her finger — eyes pleading, accepted with a nod.
Friends from the church — crouched behind a curtain — burst in — singing, clapping — a joyful clamor flooding the space, a moment drenched in love.
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