14-02-2026, 09:38 PM
(This post was last modified: 14-02-2026, 09:46 PM by heygiwriter. Edited 3 times in total. Edited 3 times in total.)
Chapter 101 – Back to the Present Timeline
[for connection - Read Chapter 1]
[it is after Vikram is beaten and unconscious he hears the sound]
Abandoned Mill...
Then the voices came — layered, overlapping, muffled at first, as if he were underwater.
Vikram could hear now... he woke from the past memories to present...
Someone came near to him, took his hand and checked his pulse
“Are you there…?”
“Open your eyes…”
“Sir — there is a pulse. Bring the stretcher—”
An ambulance siren screamed awake — shrill, relentless — slicing through the fog in his head. Tires screeched on gravel. Doors banged open. Rough hands lifted him — pain exploding white-hot across his temple. Blood trickled warm down the side of his face, coppery taste on his tongue.
He forced his eyes open — just a crack.
The world tilted and swam. White coats. Flashing red-blue lights. A stretcher rattling beneath him. His head lolled to the side — searching, always searching.
Mirnaa…
Four paramedics moved fast — strapping him down, shouting vitals. Voices overlapped — clipped, urgent.
“BP dropping — get the line in—”
“Head trauma — possible concussion—”
And then — slicing through the chaos like a knife — Bharath’s voice. Calm.
Too calm. Speaking into a phone, close enough that Vikram could hear every word.
“Mirnaa… he’s all good. He’s fine. Don’t — please don’t come out now. He escaped. It’s unsafe.”
A pause. Bharath’s tone softened — almost soothing.
“What? Wait — Shiney? She’s the person who got you into trouble.”
The siren stretched — endless — hours compressed into a single, piercing wail. Then — abruptly — silence. Only the screeching wheels of the stretcher remained — metal grinding against metal as they rushed him down a corridor.
A doctor’s voice — authoritative, clipped:
“FIR to come. Get the team ready.”
Some time late
A hand touched his — soft, trembling, achingly familiar. He instantly know it, the hand that once took him back to this world.
His Mirnaa.
He heard his voice, her sobbing..
“I’m sorry,” she whispered — voice breaking — tears wetting his knuckles. “I should have accepted you for what you are… I’m sorry. Please… please come back. I truly love you. Please wake up.”
Another voice — Shiney’s — gentle but firm:
“Mirnaa — control yourself. He’s a patient. Here — I’ll speak with the doctor. We’ll start the procedures soon.”
Mirna, please stop it Shiney.. i have done exactly like how you said.. you wanted me to stay away.. no see how he is.. ..
Mirna continuously sobs...
Heavy footsteps approached — measured, powerful — shoes on tile.
Bharath’s voice again — closer now — edged with something Vikram couldn’t place.
“Mirna—”
Before the rest could land — doctors’ orders drowned him out — monitors beeping faster — voices overlapping — urgent, professional. Vikram strained — ears searching desperately for her — for Mirnaa — but the noise swallowed everything.
Darkness rolled in again thick, suffocating.
Then a different voice
Swathi’s — clear, steady, cutting through the haze.
“Wake up, Vikram. It’s time to come out. We have big battles to fight. We have to do it for your people.. .”
Memories flooded jagged, violent. The ambush.
The rod. Bharath’s face above him — calm, almost pitying. Mirnaa’s scream cut off mid-breath.
More voices overlapping machines whirring — someone adjusting an IV.
he slowly got into sleep.
Swathi’s voice again closer now —soft, coaxing.
“Wake up, sir. I’ve prepared coffee for you.”
Vikram’s eyes snapped open.
He was in Dubai.
His memories travelled 1 year before the present timeline [Vikram in Krish Swathi Flat]
[for connection - Read Chapter 1]
[it is after Vikram is beaten and unconscious he hears the sound]
Abandoned Mill...
Then the voices came — layered, overlapping, muffled at first, as if he were underwater.
Vikram could hear now... he woke from the past memories to present...
Someone came near to him, took his hand and checked his pulse
“Are you there…?”
“Open your eyes…”
“Sir — there is a pulse. Bring the stretcher—”
An ambulance siren screamed awake — shrill, relentless — slicing through the fog in his head. Tires screeched on gravel. Doors banged open. Rough hands lifted him — pain exploding white-hot across his temple. Blood trickled warm down the side of his face, coppery taste on his tongue.
He forced his eyes open — just a crack.
The world tilted and swam. White coats. Flashing red-blue lights. A stretcher rattling beneath him. His head lolled to the side — searching, always searching.
Mirnaa…
Four paramedics moved fast — strapping him down, shouting vitals. Voices overlapped — clipped, urgent.
“BP dropping — get the line in—”
“Head trauma — possible concussion—”
And then — slicing through the chaos like a knife — Bharath’s voice. Calm.
Too calm. Speaking into a phone, close enough that Vikram could hear every word.
“Mirnaa… he’s all good. He’s fine. Don’t — please don’t come out now. He escaped. It’s unsafe.”
A pause. Bharath’s tone softened — almost soothing.
“What? Wait — Shiney? She’s the person who got you into trouble.”
The siren stretched — endless — hours compressed into a single, piercing wail. Then — abruptly — silence. Only the screeching wheels of the stretcher remained — metal grinding against metal as they rushed him down a corridor.
A doctor’s voice — authoritative, clipped:
“FIR to come. Get the team ready.”
Some time late
A hand touched his — soft, trembling, achingly familiar. He instantly know it, the hand that once took him back to this world.
His Mirnaa.
He heard his voice, her sobbing..
“I’m sorry,” she whispered — voice breaking — tears wetting his knuckles. “I should have accepted you for what you are… I’m sorry. Please… please come back. I truly love you. Please wake up.”
Another voice — Shiney’s — gentle but firm:
“Mirnaa — control yourself. He’s a patient. Here — I’ll speak with the doctor. We’ll start the procedures soon.”
Mirna, please stop it Shiney.. i have done exactly like how you said.. you wanted me to stay away.. no see how he is.. ..
Mirna continuously sobs...
Heavy footsteps approached — measured, powerful — shoes on tile.
Bharath’s voice again — closer now — edged with something Vikram couldn’t place.
“Mirna—”
Before the rest could land — doctors’ orders drowned him out — monitors beeping faster — voices overlapping — urgent, professional. Vikram strained — ears searching desperately for her — for Mirnaa — but the noise swallowed everything.
Darkness rolled in again thick, suffocating.
Then a different voice
Swathi’s — clear, steady, cutting through the haze.
“Wake up, Vikram. It’s time to come out. We have big battles to fight. We have to do it for your people.. .”
Memories flooded jagged, violent. The ambush.
The rod. Bharath’s face above him — calm, almost pitying. Mirnaa’s scream cut off mid-breath.
More voices overlapping machines whirring — someone adjusting an IV.
he slowly got into sleep.
Swathi’s voice again closer now —soft, coaxing.
“Wake up, sir. I’ve prepared coffee for you.”
Vikram’s eyes snapped open.
He was in Dubai.
His memories travelled 1 year before the present timeline [Vikram in Krish Swathi Flat]
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