Yesterday, 12:48 PM
Chapter 40: Vikram and Malar in a room ; While Bharath and Mirna met
Vikram stepped closer in the resort parking lot, voice low and steady.
“Vicky.”
Vicky turned—eyes widening in recognition, then narrowing into that same cocky glint Vikram remembered from twenty years ago. No defeat in his posture, no slump. Just a smirk, thin and bitter.
“You,” Vicky said, almost laughing. “Still alive, huh? Thought you’d be rotting somewhere by now.”
The words hit like a slap. Vikram’s fists clenched. He’d come for the land deal Krish needed—buy everyone off, close it fast. But seeing Vicky like this—broken, ragged, yet still carrying that arrogant tilt—ignited something deeper.
Vikram wanted to prove he had everything now: better state, wealth, power. The memory flashed—Vicky fucking Malar in the store room, them not stopping even after seeing him. It still hurt.
He forgot why he was here.
“I’m going to the village,” Vikram said. “See my uncle.”
Vicky’s smirk faded slightly. “Good luck with that.”
Vikram entered his car. Vicky started his bike, shouted: “I didn’t welcome you to my home!”
Vikram drove the 30 km in silence, rage simmering.
The village looked smaller, poorer. He walked the familiar lanes to his uncle’s old house—now empty, roof sagging, walls cracked.
A neighbor—an old woman sweeping the yard—recognized him.
“Vikram? You came back?”
He nodded. “My uncle… how is he?”
She shook her head slowly. “Gone. Three years back.”
Vikram asked, “What happened?”
The lady said, “He got disease and died at the hospital three years back.”
Vikram recalled his meeting in the hospital with Malar—when he rescued Sekaran anna for treatment there. Exactly the day… the day he tore Malar’s blouse inside the store/motor room.
Vikram’s stomach dropped.
The old woman continued. “Malar’s not doing well. Vicky drinks too much, lost everything in gambling. They sold all the land, all the assets. Just two houses left—one rented, one they live in. They have a boy now—sixth standard. She works day and night to pay debts.”
Vikram excused old lady and walked towards Malar house
Vikram felt nostalgia hit like a wave—old memories of Malar’s smile, her hand in his, the life they almost had. Though rage burned, he felt bad for her.
He excused himself and moved to Malar’s house.
Malar opened the door.
She looked like a matured lady—not old, but tired. Her breasts were full, almost asking him to come and take her. Lines around her eyes, hair tied back simply, saree faded—but the moment she saw him, her face lit up with genuine happiness.
“Maamaa…”
She stepped aside. She was surprised she didnt know she will see a day when Vikram will be back and even in better bright way...
“Come in.” She said..
Her pulse quicked, her legs could not stay, she ran to bring some water.
Inside, the house was bare—few pieces of furniture, a small TV in the corner.
Vikram asked, “Nothing changed inside the house. There’s still uncle’s trace everywhere.”
Malar had a drop of tears. but she wiped it and decided to converse something else..
She looked at him in awe and said, “You look better now, mama.
Last time at the hospital when we met, I saw blood on your shirt, knife in your hand… I worried your life would end that way. But I’m happy you didn’t end up as a henchman.”
“I’m better now,” he said quietly. “A businessman. Things changed.”
Vicky’s vehicle reached the house and he entered house as vikram said businessman.
Vicky sat in a chair, bottle in hand, eyes bloodshot.
Vikram stood in the doorway, as he is going to go out as soon as Vicky came in.
Malar’s eyes softened. A little smile came.
Vicky snorted from the chair. “Businessman, huh? Good for you.”
Vikram ignored him. Looked at Malar.
“I want to start a branch in Trichy. Maybe you and Vicky can handle it.”
Vicky and Malar looked at each other.
Vikram continued. “I know you are struggling. You don’t want to accept it, but just give me a chance for your revival—not doing it for you, consider I’m doing it for uncle…”
Vicky laughed—cocky, bitter. “I have no intentions.”
Vikram’s eyes stayed on Malar.
“If you respect me—your mama—come to the resort this evening. I’ll be waiting in my room.”
Vikram said this and moved.
Malar realized Vicky didn’t welcome him properly. She knew Vikram had been hurt, and Vicky was always cocky.
Vicky tensed like rock. “Don’t go.”
Vikram heard it as he reached the car.
He waited till 5 p.m.
The bell rang.
Malar stood there—alone.
She wore a better saree. Her shapes were still full. Vikram’s eyes always went to her breasts; Malar noticed it but didn’t say anything.
“What about Vicky?” he asked.
“He didn’t come,” she said softly.
Vikram smirked. He knew Vicky would follow her. He always did.
He locked the door, letting her in.
Meanwhile, same time in Chennai…
Bharath had been suspended from duty—serious charges of underworld links. It had happened just a week after he and Aadharsh met to discuss revamping the three-year-old deal. Bharath hadn’t fully agreed, but he wanted to see the potential. An informer had spoiled it, and now the informer was hiding in a hospital—the same one where Mirna worked.
Bharath wanted to catch him. Beat the pulp out of him.
As he reached the hospital entrance, a car came screeching in—emergency patient drop-off. The driver lost control. The car veered toward the entrance.
Bharath saw an old man step between the car and the crowd.
Mirna and a few others shouted, “Sir… look out!”
Bharath didn’t flinch.
He jumped—pushed the old man aside, took the impact himself. Scratches raked his arms, blood spilled, the car slammed into the wall.
No one else hurt.
The old man was saved.
Mirna ran to help the old man up.
Others rushed to Bharath—panicked, helping him stand.
He brushed them off, blood dripping from his arm, eyes scanning the crowd.
Mirna looked up—saw him.
Her eyes widened.
“Sir… are you okay?”
Bharath met her gaze—calm, steady.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Vikram was 400 km away—locked in a room with Malar—while Bharath stood at the hospital entrance, blood on his shirt, eyes on the woman Vikram married.
The cage was cracking wider.
And the shadows were moving closer.
Vikram stepped closer in the resort parking lot, voice low and steady.
“Vicky.”
Vicky turned—eyes widening in recognition, then narrowing into that same cocky glint Vikram remembered from twenty years ago. No defeat in his posture, no slump. Just a smirk, thin and bitter.
“You,” Vicky said, almost laughing. “Still alive, huh? Thought you’d be rotting somewhere by now.”
The words hit like a slap. Vikram’s fists clenched. He’d come for the land deal Krish needed—buy everyone off, close it fast. But seeing Vicky like this—broken, ragged, yet still carrying that arrogant tilt—ignited something deeper.
Vikram wanted to prove he had everything now: better state, wealth, power. The memory flashed—Vicky fucking Malar in the store room, them not stopping even after seeing him. It still hurt.
He forgot why he was here.
“I’m going to the village,” Vikram said. “See my uncle.”
Vicky’s smirk faded slightly. “Good luck with that.”
Vikram entered his car. Vicky started his bike, shouted: “I didn’t welcome you to my home!”
Vikram drove the 30 km in silence, rage simmering.
The village looked smaller, poorer. He walked the familiar lanes to his uncle’s old house—now empty, roof sagging, walls cracked.
A neighbor—an old woman sweeping the yard—recognized him.
“Vikram? You came back?”
He nodded. “My uncle… how is he?”
She shook her head slowly. “Gone. Three years back.”
Vikram asked, “What happened?”
The lady said, “He got disease and died at the hospital three years back.”
Vikram recalled his meeting in the hospital with Malar—when he rescued Sekaran anna for treatment there. Exactly the day… the day he tore Malar’s blouse inside the store/motor room.
Vikram’s stomach dropped.
The old woman continued. “Malar’s not doing well. Vicky drinks too much, lost everything in gambling. They sold all the land, all the assets. Just two houses left—one rented, one they live in. They have a boy now—sixth standard. She works day and night to pay debts.”
Vikram excused old lady and walked towards Malar house
Vikram felt nostalgia hit like a wave—old memories of Malar’s smile, her hand in his, the life they almost had. Though rage burned, he felt bad for her.
He excused himself and moved to Malar’s house.
Malar opened the door.
She looked like a matured lady—not old, but tired. Her breasts were full, almost asking him to come and take her. Lines around her eyes, hair tied back simply, saree faded—but the moment she saw him, her face lit up with genuine happiness.
“Maamaa…”
She stepped aside. She was surprised she didnt know she will see a day when Vikram will be back and even in better bright way...
“Come in.” She said..
Her pulse quicked, her legs could not stay, she ran to bring some water.
Inside, the house was bare—few pieces of furniture, a small TV in the corner.
Vikram asked, “Nothing changed inside the house. There’s still uncle’s trace everywhere.”
Malar had a drop of tears. but she wiped it and decided to converse something else..
She looked at him in awe and said, “You look better now, mama.
Last time at the hospital when we met, I saw blood on your shirt, knife in your hand… I worried your life would end that way. But I’m happy you didn’t end up as a henchman.”
“I’m better now,” he said quietly. “A businessman. Things changed.”
Vicky’s vehicle reached the house and he entered house as vikram said businessman.
Vicky sat in a chair, bottle in hand, eyes bloodshot.
Vikram stood in the doorway, as he is going to go out as soon as Vicky came in.
Malar’s eyes softened. A little smile came.
Vicky snorted from the chair. “Businessman, huh? Good for you.”
Vikram ignored him. Looked at Malar.
“I want to start a branch in Trichy. Maybe you and Vicky can handle it.”
Vicky and Malar looked at each other.
Vikram continued. “I know you are struggling. You don’t want to accept it, but just give me a chance for your revival—not doing it for you, consider I’m doing it for uncle…”
Vicky laughed—cocky, bitter. “I have no intentions.”
Vikram’s eyes stayed on Malar.
“If you respect me—your mama—come to the resort this evening. I’ll be waiting in my room.”
Vikram said this and moved.
Malar realized Vicky didn’t welcome him properly. She knew Vikram had been hurt, and Vicky was always cocky.
Vicky tensed like rock. “Don’t go.”
Vikram heard it as he reached the car.
He waited till 5 p.m.
The bell rang.
Malar stood there—alone.
She wore a better saree. Her shapes were still full. Vikram’s eyes always went to her breasts; Malar noticed it but didn’t say anything.
“What about Vicky?” he asked.
“He didn’t come,” she said softly.
Vikram smirked. He knew Vicky would follow her. He always did.
He locked the door, letting her in.
Meanwhile, same time in Chennai…
Bharath had been suspended from duty—serious charges of underworld links. It had happened just a week after he and Aadharsh met to discuss revamping the three-year-old deal. Bharath hadn’t fully agreed, but he wanted to see the potential. An informer had spoiled it, and now the informer was hiding in a hospital—the same one where Mirna worked.
Bharath wanted to catch him. Beat the pulp out of him.
As he reached the hospital entrance, a car came screeching in—emergency patient drop-off. The driver lost control. The car veered toward the entrance.
Bharath saw an old man step between the car and the crowd.
Mirna and a few others shouted, “Sir… look out!”
Bharath didn’t flinch.
He jumped—pushed the old man aside, took the impact himself. Scratches raked his arms, blood spilled, the car slammed into the wall.
No one else hurt.
The old man was saved.
Mirna ran to help the old man up.
Others rushed to Bharath—panicked, helping him stand.
He brushed them off, blood dripping from his arm, eyes scanning the crowd.
Mirna looked up—saw him.
Her eyes widened.
“Sir… are you okay?”
Bharath met her gaze—calm, steady.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Vikram was 400 km away—locked in a room with Malar—while Bharath stood at the hospital entrance, blood on his shirt, eyes on the woman Vikram married.
The cage was cracking wider.
And the shadows were moving closer.
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