31-01-2026, 11:41 PM
Chapter 30: The Rain & The First Night
After she said yes, the nun met Vikram in the small office room off the church hall. The air smelled of incense and old wood. She closed the door softly, her white habit catching the light from a single bulb.
“I’m happy, Vikram,” she said, voice low and warm. “Mirna finally getting a family of her choice. She’s like a kid to me — 14 years she was with me. Just take care.”
Vikram nodded, throat tight. “I will, sister. Always.”
She handed him a small bundle of papers. “Give me all documents I need to carry some paperwork. Church blessing, certificates, everything. We’ll make it official.”
They figured out the marriage date — 20 days from then. Simple. Heartfelt. In the temple nearby. No grand affair — just the people who mattered.
Vikram stayed in Kerala. Days blurred as he planned their wedding — small things: buying flowers with Mirna, choosing plain gold rings, arranging a modest feast with the church families. Mirna was beside him every step, her laughter brightening the trips, her hand brushing his as they walked dusty lanes.
He accompanied her to the hospital and nearby special day camps. He watched her work — steady hands, gentle voice, the same care she gave him now given to strangers. He felt proud. And terrified. What if he didn’t deserve this?
One evening, returning from such a camp, rain poured heavy. The bridge connecting the town collapsed — water drumming the streets, roads flooded. They couldn’t go anywhere.
They ducked into a small lodge nearby — single room, tin roof, one bed, a window rattling with rain.
They booked it. Inside, the mood turned light. Wet clothes stuck to skin. Vikram flicked a damp towel at her — playful. She laughed, flicked one back. Giggles echoed off the walls — first time they played like children.
They settled. Clothes dried by the fan. Vikram sat on the bed. Mirna beside him.
He looked at her. “I have never heard your story. I always felt if my question would hurt you…”
Mirna’s voice fell then, her past unraveling.
“My family… my father’s step-brothers schemed. Car crash. Parents and brother gone. Grab for riches. I survived by luck. Landed in the church’s arms.”
She looked at him. “Yes, I used to feel bad for someone quick. I will feel pity for them, side them when they are hurt. But… I don’t trust easy. Especially ones who are offenders, crime doers… like some rowdies or henchmen. Not at all.”
Vikram really panicked. The roles she said suited him — rowdy, henchman, blood on hands from Sekaran’s world.
Mirna saw his face. She took his hand.
“Blood turned on blood,” she said softly. “But you risked yourself for a woman you didn’t know. That moment, I chose you for my life.”
Vikram pulled her close — consoling her with a hug. Then kissed her — cheek first, then neck, lips last. Heat flared.
A pull they couldn’t resist.
After she said yes, the nun met Vikram in the small office room off the church hall. The air smelled of incense and old wood. She closed the door softly, her white habit catching the light from a single bulb.
“I’m happy, Vikram,” she said, voice low and warm. “Mirna finally getting a family of her choice. She’s like a kid to me — 14 years she was with me. Just take care.”
Vikram nodded, throat tight. “I will, sister. Always.”
She handed him a small bundle of papers. “Give me all documents I need to carry some paperwork. Church blessing, certificates, everything. We’ll make it official.”
They figured out the marriage date — 20 days from then. Simple. Heartfelt. In the temple nearby. No grand affair — just the people who mattered.
Vikram stayed in Kerala. Days blurred as he planned their wedding — small things: buying flowers with Mirna, choosing plain gold rings, arranging a modest feast with the church families. Mirna was beside him every step, her laughter brightening the trips, her hand brushing his as they walked dusty lanes.
He accompanied her to the hospital and nearby special day camps. He watched her work — steady hands, gentle voice, the same care she gave him now given to strangers. He felt proud. And terrified. What if he didn’t deserve this?
One evening, returning from such a camp, rain poured heavy. The bridge connecting the town collapsed — water drumming the streets, roads flooded. They couldn’t go anywhere.
They ducked into a small lodge nearby — single room, tin roof, one bed, a window rattling with rain.
They booked it. Inside, the mood turned light. Wet clothes stuck to skin. Vikram flicked a damp towel at her — playful. She laughed, flicked one back. Giggles echoed off the walls — first time they played like children.
They settled. Clothes dried by the fan. Vikram sat on the bed. Mirna beside him.
He looked at her. “I have never heard your story. I always felt if my question would hurt you…”
Mirna’s voice fell then, her past unraveling.
“My family… my father’s step-brothers schemed. Car crash. Parents and brother gone. Grab for riches. I survived by luck. Landed in the church’s arms.”
She looked at him. “Yes, I used to feel bad for someone quick. I will feel pity for them, side them when they are hurt. But… I don’t trust easy. Especially ones who are offenders, crime doers… like some rowdies or henchmen. Not at all.”
Vikram really panicked. The roles she said suited him — rowdy, henchman, blood on hands from Sekaran’s world.
Mirna saw his face. She took his hand.
“Blood turned on blood,” she said softly. “But you risked yourself for a woman you didn’t know. That moment, I chose you for my life.”
Vikram pulled her close — consoling her with a hug. Then kissed her — cheek first, then neck, lips last. Heat flared.
A pull they couldn’t resist.
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