20-02-2026, 12:01 AM
(This post was last modified: 20-02-2026, 12:14 AM by heygiwriter. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 120 – Vikram’s Offer to Manya
Chennai – Vikram’s Beach House – Late Afternoon
Vikram stared at the blank screen. Mirnaa’s voice — shaky, breathless — still echoed in his head. “Me too…” followed by that soft, unmistakable moan. The sound of her pleasure. While she was talking to him. While Bharath was inside her.
He could not stand still.
His fist clenched around the phone so hard the case creaked. Rage boiled under his skin — hot, sharp, immediate. He wanted to beat Bharath. Finish him. Right now. Drive to the airport. Wait for their flight. Drag him out and end it with his bare hands.
But Swathi’s warnings crashed over him like cold water.
“Do not rush. Mirnaa must feel safe first.”
“If you expose Bharath now, he will expose you back.”
“If you do anything to harm him, she will defend him out of guilt.”
He forced a breath. Forced his fist to open. The phone dropped onto the couch.
Evening went uneasy.
He paced the living room. Waves crashed outside — the same sound that used to calm him. Now it mocked him. Every minute stretched. Every tick of the clock reminded him: they were still in Goa. Still together. Still fucking. While he waited here. Alone.
He sat down. Rubbed his face. Then stood up again.
No. No more waiting.
He was done being patient. Done playing the long game while Bharath took everything.
He picked up the phone again. Scrolled to a number he had not called in months. A private line. A direct contact.
He rang it.
The call went through.
The receiver took.
“Hello?”
Vikram’s voice was low. Controlled. But edged with something dangerous.
“Hello. I am Vikram here.”
A pause on the other end. Confusion.
“I don’t know anyone by the name Vikram. Did you dial the right number?”
Vikram:
“Yes.”
Other side — wary now.
“Whom do you want…”
Then a sound came over the phone.
A baby cried. Sharp. Hungry.
An old lady’s voice shouted in the background.
“Hey Manya! Your baby is crying! Give her some food!”
The line went quiet for a second.
Then Manya’s voice — soft, surprised, suddenly alert.
“Vikram?”
Vikram sat on the edge of the bed, phone still in his hand.
The baby’s cry and the old lady’s shout still echoed in his ears.
Vikram:
“Manya.”
Manya:
“Yes… who are you?”
She sounded surprised — how did he know her name? Was he someone known? She had not given her new number to anyone. Who could it be?
Manya:
“I don’t remember anyone in the name of Vikram. What do you want and how do you know my name?”
Vikram:
“I know you but you may not know me.”
Manya:
“See, I am a working woman. Please be straight. Don’t waste time talking… if you are some old friend, stop playing and come to the point. Are upi some old friend from college?”
Vikram:
“Manya, this is Vikram. I am not your friend.”
Manya:
“Then who are you?”
Vikram:
“One who would help you seek justice.”
Manya:
“What are you blabbering about?”
Vikram:
“Give me a chance to explain. Can we meet today?”
Manya:
“What no!! No. Why should I meet you? First tell me who you are exactly. Some old Friend from College?”
Vikram:
“I am not your friend but not your enemy as well. I have information about Bharath and the company that wronged your husband. I want to get justice for you.”
Manya thought for a second and said:
“Let us assume you are going to get me justice. What is there for you here?”
Vikram:
“Justice for me too. Because I am a victim myself.”
Manya thought for a second. She asked:
“Explain to me.”
Vikram:
“Not everything can be said over the phone. One thing is sure — I know what Bharath did to you. To your husband. To me. I have proof. And I have a way to make him pay. For both of us. Can we meet?”
Manya:
“Where are you?”
Vikram:
“Chennai.
Mirna: Im in Bangalore
Vikram: i Know, I can fly out now. Meet in a public place. Your choice.”
A longer pause.
Manya:
“Park. Near the pond. 6 PM. I will be with my mother. No funny business.”
Vikram stood up.
“I will be there.”
Bangalore – Park – Evening
Vikram landed in Bangalore two hours later. A private charter no questions, no records. He took a cab straight to Park. The evening was cool. Families walked. Children played. The lotus pond shimmered under the last light.
He spotted her near a bench under a large banyan tree. Manya sat with an older woman — her mother and the baby in a stroller. Manya was gorgeous — even more than the photos. Long dark hair. Sharp eyes. A quiet strength in her posture. No wonder Bharath could not forget her.
Vikram approached slowly. Hands visible. No sudden moves.
“Manya?”
She looked up. Tense. Wary.
“You are Vikram?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
She glanced at her mother, then back at him.
“Sit. But keep distance.”
Vikram sat on the bench opposite her. The mother watched him like a hawk.
Manya spoke first.
“Who are you really? And why do you want to meet me?”
Vikram kept his voice low. Steady.
“I am a friend of Bharath. That is how I wanted to tell you. But he is a homewrecker. He is trying to destroy my life the same way he destroyed
yours. I need your help.”
Manya’s eyes narrowed.
“I wanted to meet because I thought you said you would bring justice for my husband. And the money the company owed us. The scheme Bharath and his father committed.”
Vikram nodded.
“I have thought about it. I can make that happen. I have links. I can force the settlement. I can make Bharath pay — financially, legally, completely.”
Manya leaned forward slightly.
“What do you need exactly? You don’t want to do it for free, right?”
Vikram met her eyes. No hesitation.
“I need you to love someone back. If you can do it, I will seek justice for you.”
Manya blinked.
“What?”
“Yes. If you love someone back… I can bring justice immediately. I have the leverage. But I need you to play a part.”
Manya stared at him. The baby fussed in the stroller.
The mother reached over to soothe it. Manya’s voice dropped.
She didn’t want to enquire and cut off, but curiosity won. She asked.
“Whom Should i love back?”
Vikram leaned in just a fraction.
“Bharath.”
Manya: What!
Chennai – Vikram’s Beach House – Late Afternoon
Vikram stared at the blank screen. Mirnaa’s voice — shaky, breathless — still echoed in his head. “Me too…” followed by that soft, unmistakable moan. The sound of her pleasure. While she was talking to him. While Bharath was inside her.
He could not stand still.
His fist clenched around the phone so hard the case creaked. Rage boiled under his skin — hot, sharp, immediate. He wanted to beat Bharath. Finish him. Right now. Drive to the airport. Wait for their flight. Drag him out and end it with his bare hands.
But Swathi’s warnings crashed over him like cold water.
“Do not rush. Mirnaa must feel safe first.”
“If you expose Bharath now, he will expose you back.”
“If you do anything to harm him, she will defend him out of guilt.”
He forced a breath. Forced his fist to open. The phone dropped onto the couch.
Evening went uneasy.
He paced the living room. Waves crashed outside — the same sound that used to calm him. Now it mocked him. Every minute stretched. Every tick of the clock reminded him: they were still in Goa. Still together. Still fucking. While he waited here. Alone.
He sat down. Rubbed his face. Then stood up again.
No. No more waiting.
He was done being patient. Done playing the long game while Bharath took everything.
He picked up the phone again. Scrolled to a number he had not called in months. A private line. A direct contact.
He rang it.
The call went through.
The receiver took.
“Hello?”
Vikram’s voice was low. Controlled. But edged with something dangerous.
“Hello. I am Vikram here.”
A pause on the other end. Confusion.
“I don’t know anyone by the name Vikram. Did you dial the right number?”
Vikram:
“Yes.”
Other side — wary now.
“Whom do you want…”
Then a sound came over the phone.
A baby cried. Sharp. Hungry.
An old lady’s voice shouted in the background.
“Hey Manya! Your baby is crying! Give her some food!”
The line went quiet for a second.
Then Manya’s voice — soft, surprised, suddenly alert.
“Vikram?”
Vikram sat on the edge of the bed, phone still in his hand.
The baby’s cry and the old lady’s shout still echoed in his ears.
Vikram:
“Manya.”
Manya:
“Yes… who are you?”
She sounded surprised — how did he know her name? Was he someone known? She had not given her new number to anyone. Who could it be?
Manya:
“I don’t remember anyone in the name of Vikram. What do you want and how do you know my name?”
Vikram:
“I know you but you may not know me.”
Manya:
“See, I am a working woman. Please be straight. Don’t waste time talking… if you are some old friend, stop playing and come to the point. Are upi some old friend from college?”
Vikram:
“Manya, this is Vikram. I am not your friend.”
Manya:
“Then who are you?”
Vikram:
“One who would help you seek justice.”
Manya:
“What are you blabbering about?”
Vikram:
“Give me a chance to explain. Can we meet today?”
Manya:
“What no!! No. Why should I meet you? First tell me who you are exactly. Some old Friend from College?”
Vikram:
“I am not your friend but not your enemy as well. I have information about Bharath and the company that wronged your husband. I want to get justice for you.”
Manya thought for a second and said:
“Let us assume you are going to get me justice. What is there for you here?”
Vikram:
“Justice for me too. Because I am a victim myself.”
Manya thought for a second. She asked:
“Explain to me.”
Vikram:
“Not everything can be said over the phone. One thing is sure — I know what Bharath did to you. To your husband. To me. I have proof. And I have a way to make him pay. For both of us. Can we meet?”
Manya:
“Where are you?”
Vikram:
“Chennai.
Mirna: Im in Bangalore
Vikram: i Know, I can fly out now. Meet in a public place. Your choice.”
A longer pause.
Manya:
“Park. Near the pond. 6 PM. I will be with my mother. No funny business.”
Vikram stood up.
“I will be there.”
Bangalore – Park – Evening
Vikram landed in Bangalore two hours later. A private charter no questions, no records. He took a cab straight to Park. The evening was cool. Families walked. Children played. The lotus pond shimmered under the last light.
He spotted her near a bench under a large banyan tree. Manya sat with an older woman — her mother and the baby in a stroller. Manya was gorgeous — even more than the photos. Long dark hair. Sharp eyes. A quiet strength in her posture. No wonder Bharath could not forget her.
Vikram approached slowly. Hands visible. No sudden moves.
“Manya?”
She looked up. Tense. Wary.
“You are Vikram?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
She glanced at her mother, then back at him.
“Sit. But keep distance.”
Vikram sat on the bench opposite her. The mother watched him like a hawk.
Manya spoke first.
“Who are you really? And why do you want to meet me?”
Vikram kept his voice low. Steady.
“I am a friend of Bharath. That is how I wanted to tell you. But he is a homewrecker. He is trying to destroy my life the same way he destroyed
yours. I need your help.”
Manya’s eyes narrowed.
“I wanted to meet because I thought you said you would bring justice for my husband. And the money the company owed us. The scheme Bharath and his father committed.”
Vikram nodded.
“I have thought about it. I can make that happen. I have links. I can force the settlement. I can make Bharath pay — financially, legally, completely.”
Manya leaned forward slightly.
“What do you need exactly? You don’t want to do it for free, right?”
Vikram met her eyes. No hesitation.
“I need you to love someone back. If you can do it, I will seek justice for you.”
Manya blinked.
“What?”
“Yes. If you love someone back… I can bring justice immediately. I have the leverage. But I need you to play a part.”
Manya stared at him. The baby fussed in the stroller.
The mother reached over to soothe it. Manya’s voice dropped.
She didn’t want to enquire and cut off, but curiosity won. She asked.
“Whom Should i love back?”
Vikram leaned in just a fraction.
“Bharath.”
Manya: What!
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