20-02-2026, 11:59 PM
Chapter 123 - Unsaid date - Same day!
After breakfast they retired to their rooms.
Mirnaa followed Vikram upstairs slowly. Her steps were heavy, not from the travel alone but from the weight of everything unsaid. The hallway felt longer than she remembered. The familiar creak of the wooden floor under her feet — a sound that used to bring comfort — now made her stomach twist. She kept her eyes on the back of his shirt, afraid to meet his gaze for too long.
They entered their bedroom. The bed was neatly made — fresh sheets, pillows fluffed — as if the room had been waiting for her return. Sunlight slanted through the curtains, painting soft stripes across the floor. Vikram closed the door behind them with a quiet click.
Mirnaa stood near the foot of the bed. Her hands twisted together in front of her. She opened her mouth — the apology had been building inside her since the drive back, since the moment she saw his face in the hallway.
“Vikram, I—”
He turned to her. Raised a hand gently, stopping her mid-sentence.
“Just relax,” he said. Voice low. Calm. “Take rest. Lunch is also on me.
I am preparing. Okay?”
She looked at him. Searched his face for anger. For disappointment. For anything sharp. But there was only quiet steadiness. The same eyes she had fallen in love with years ago — tired now, shadowed, but kind.
Mirnaa nodded slowly. Words stuck in her throat.
“Okay.”
Vikram gave her a small smile — the kind that did not quite reach his eyes — then turned and left the room. The door closed softly behind him.
Mirnaa stood alone in the middle of the bedroom. The silence pressed in. She walked to the bed. Sat on the edge. Then lay down fully clothed, curling onto her side. Pulled one of Vikram’s pillows against her chest. It smelled like him — soap, faint cologne, the sea. Home. Tears slipped out again — silent, unstoppable. She pressed her face into the pillow to muffle them. Exhaustion from the drive, from the guilt, from the goodbye she was not ready to say — it all crashed over her at once. She fell asleep almost immediately.
Kitchen – Midday
Vikram worked quietly in the kitchen. He chopped vegetables with steady hands. Boiled rice. Tempered spices. The sambar simmered on low flame — the aroma of tamarind, curry leaves, and mustard seeds slowly filling the house. He made extra — enough for Bharath too. Not out of kindness. Out of necessity. He needed to keep everything normal on the surface. For now.
He glanced at the clock. Almost time. Three Hours passed.. He is a slow cook.
He wiped his hands. Walked upstairs. Opened the bedroom door quietly.
Mirnaa was still asleep — curled small, one hand clutching the pillow. Her face looked peaceful for the first time in days. Vikram stood in the doorway for a long moment. Watching her breathe. The rise and fall of her chest. The faint crease between her brows even in sleep. He felt the familiar ache — love mixed with regret mixed with quiet fury at himself.
He walked over. Sat on the edge of the bed. Touched her shoulder lightly.
“Mirnaa.”
She stirred. Blinked awake. Looked up at him. For a second confusion — then memory rushed back. The guilt returned. Her eyes dropped.
Vikram spoke softly.
“Lunch is ready. Come down when you are ready.”
She nodded. Sat up slowly.
He left her to change.
Lunch Table – Early Afternoon
Vikram also woke Bharath — a simple knock on the guest room door.
“Lunch is ready.”
Bharath appeared a few minutes later. Face neutral. Polite nod. But Vikram saw the tightness in his jaw. The way his eyes flicked toward Mirnaa when she entered the dining room.
All three seated at the lunch table.
Mirnaa could not look up much. She still had the guilt. She kept her eyes on her plate. Hands folded in her lap until Vikram served her first — rice, sambar, a small portion of vegetable poriyal. Bharath served himself.
The meal was quiet. Forks and spoons against plates. The clink of glasses. Vikram asked small things, how was the drive, was the traffic bad , surface questions. Mirnaa answered in short sentences.
Bharath answered politely. But the air was thick. No one mentioned Goa. No one mentioned the delay. No one mentioned anything real.
After lunch Vikram stood up.
“Let us go out.”
Mirnaa looked up, surprised.
“Where?”
Vikram:
“Come.”
He turned to Bharath — voice even.
“We will be back by night. Have dinner outside.”
Bharath nodded once. Tight smile.
“Sure.”
Afternoon – Movie Theater
Vikram took her to a movie, an action thriller. The theater was half-empty. They sat in the middle row. She laid her head on his shoulder almost immediately, a small, instinctive movement. He did not pull away. He held her hand instead. Interlaced fingers. Thumb brushing her knuckles in slow circles.
They could not open much. Words felt too heavy. But Vikram made all effort to ease her in. During a slow scene he leaned close and whispered the name of the hero’s next move before it happened.
Mirnaa smiled, small, surprised. Laughed once or twice when he predicted wrong. It was not much. But it was something.
Night – Candlelight Restaurant
Night came. He took her to a big restaurant with candlelight setup. Soft music. Low lights. Tables spaced far apart for privacy.
Mirnaa stepped inside and froze for a second. She instantly remembered her candlelight dinners with Bharath, the same warm glow, the same intimate feeling.
She asked quietly:
“Why did you bring me here? Something very new…”
Vikram pulled out her chair. Waited until she sat.
He sat across from her. Met her eyes.
“From today, let my wife get to explore anything only through me.”
Her eyes looked at him — sincerely, seriously — searching for meaning.
They ordered simple food, what she liked. They talked little. Mostly they just sat.
Held hands across the table. Let the candle flicker between them. Vikram did not
push for conversation. He let her breathe. Let her feel safe.
They came back home by 11 PM.
After breakfast they retired to their rooms.
Mirnaa followed Vikram upstairs slowly. Her steps were heavy, not from the travel alone but from the weight of everything unsaid. The hallway felt longer than she remembered. The familiar creak of the wooden floor under her feet — a sound that used to bring comfort — now made her stomach twist. She kept her eyes on the back of his shirt, afraid to meet his gaze for too long.
They entered their bedroom. The bed was neatly made — fresh sheets, pillows fluffed — as if the room had been waiting for her return. Sunlight slanted through the curtains, painting soft stripes across the floor. Vikram closed the door behind them with a quiet click.
Mirnaa stood near the foot of the bed. Her hands twisted together in front of her. She opened her mouth — the apology had been building inside her since the drive back, since the moment she saw his face in the hallway.
“Vikram, I—”
He turned to her. Raised a hand gently, stopping her mid-sentence.
“Just relax,” he said. Voice low. Calm. “Take rest. Lunch is also on me.
I am preparing. Okay?”
She looked at him. Searched his face for anger. For disappointment. For anything sharp. But there was only quiet steadiness. The same eyes she had fallen in love with years ago — tired now, shadowed, but kind.
Mirnaa nodded slowly. Words stuck in her throat.
“Okay.”
Vikram gave her a small smile — the kind that did not quite reach his eyes — then turned and left the room. The door closed softly behind him.
Mirnaa stood alone in the middle of the bedroom. The silence pressed in. She walked to the bed. Sat on the edge. Then lay down fully clothed, curling onto her side. Pulled one of Vikram’s pillows against her chest. It smelled like him — soap, faint cologne, the sea. Home. Tears slipped out again — silent, unstoppable. She pressed her face into the pillow to muffle them. Exhaustion from the drive, from the guilt, from the goodbye she was not ready to say — it all crashed over her at once. She fell asleep almost immediately.
Kitchen – Midday
Vikram worked quietly in the kitchen. He chopped vegetables with steady hands. Boiled rice. Tempered spices. The sambar simmered on low flame — the aroma of tamarind, curry leaves, and mustard seeds slowly filling the house. He made extra — enough for Bharath too. Not out of kindness. Out of necessity. He needed to keep everything normal on the surface. For now.
He glanced at the clock. Almost time. Three Hours passed.. He is a slow cook.
He wiped his hands. Walked upstairs. Opened the bedroom door quietly.
Mirnaa was still asleep — curled small, one hand clutching the pillow. Her face looked peaceful for the first time in days. Vikram stood in the doorway for a long moment. Watching her breathe. The rise and fall of her chest. The faint crease between her brows even in sleep. He felt the familiar ache — love mixed with regret mixed with quiet fury at himself.
He walked over. Sat on the edge of the bed. Touched her shoulder lightly.
“Mirnaa.”
She stirred. Blinked awake. Looked up at him. For a second confusion — then memory rushed back. The guilt returned. Her eyes dropped.
Vikram spoke softly.
“Lunch is ready. Come down when you are ready.”
She nodded. Sat up slowly.
He left her to change.
Lunch Table – Early Afternoon
Vikram also woke Bharath — a simple knock on the guest room door.
“Lunch is ready.”
Bharath appeared a few minutes later. Face neutral. Polite nod. But Vikram saw the tightness in his jaw. The way his eyes flicked toward Mirnaa when she entered the dining room.
All three seated at the lunch table.
Mirnaa could not look up much. She still had the guilt. She kept her eyes on her plate. Hands folded in her lap until Vikram served her first — rice, sambar, a small portion of vegetable poriyal. Bharath served himself.
The meal was quiet. Forks and spoons against plates. The clink of glasses. Vikram asked small things, how was the drive, was the traffic bad , surface questions. Mirnaa answered in short sentences.
Bharath answered politely. But the air was thick. No one mentioned Goa. No one mentioned the delay. No one mentioned anything real.
After lunch Vikram stood up.
“Let us go out.”
Mirnaa looked up, surprised.
“Where?”
Vikram:
“Come.”
He turned to Bharath — voice even.
“We will be back by night. Have dinner outside.”
Bharath nodded once. Tight smile.
“Sure.”
Afternoon – Movie Theater
Vikram took her to a movie, an action thriller. The theater was half-empty. They sat in the middle row. She laid her head on his shoulder almost immediately, a small, instinctive movement. He did not pull away. He held her hand instead. Interlaced fingers. Thumb brushing her knuckles in slow circles.
They could not open much. Words felt too heavy. But Vikram made all effort to ease her in. During a slow scene he leaned close and whispered the name of the hero’s next move before it happened.
Mirnaa smiled, small, surprised. Laughed once or twice when he predicted wrong. It was not much. But it was something.
Night – Candlelight Restaurant
Night came. He took her to a big restaurant with candlelight setup. Soft music. Low lights. Tables spaced far apart for privacy.
Mirnaa stepped inside and froze for a second. She instantly remembered her candlelight dinners with Bharath, the same warm glow, the same intimate feeling.
She asked quietly:
“Why did you bring me here? Something very new…”
Vikram pulled out her chair. Waited until she sat.
He sat across from her. Met her eyes.
“From today, let my wife get to explore anything only through me.”
Her eyes looked at him — sincerely, seriously — searching for meaning.
They ordered simple food, what she liked. They talked little. Mostly they just sat.
Held hands across the table. Let the candle flicker between them. Vikram did not
push for conversation. He let her breathe. Let her feel safe.
They came back home by 11 PM.
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