01-03-2026, 02:28 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-03-2026, 02:32 PM by heygiwriter. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
Chapter 148 – The Pillar & The Seduction
Mirnaa filled every waking minute with purpose — as if stillness would let the doubts swallow her whole.
She rose at 5:30 a.m. every day. Cooked breakfast for Vikram (idli-sambar, filter coffee the way he liked it — strong, no sugar). Packed hospital food for Krish’s room: soft khichdi, vegetable kootu, mashed banana, fresh pomegranate juice in a steel flask. She drove to the hospital by 8 a.m., sat with Swathi for an hour — holding her hand during doctor rounds, bringing small comforts (a new pillowcase, a warm shawl, a small photo of Priya to tape on the wall). She spend an hour every day at electonic shops, each day a branch
Then she went shopping — fresh vegetables from Koyambedu market, fruits from roadside vendors, groceries for the house. Back home by noon — cooking lunch, cleaning, organizing. Afternoons: visiting Shiney’s house in Anna Nagar West — staying for prolonged hours, talking, laughing, sometimes crying. Shiney listened without judgment. Mirnaa cooked there too — quick meals, comfort food that filled the small flat with home smells.
She never left a minute wasted.
Vikram watched her — quietly, with a mix of awe and confusion. He had known her as gentle, sometimes fragile. Now she was something new. Stronger. Sharper. A new empowerment had come out of somewhere — surprising, almost fierce. She moved with purpose — chopping vegetables with precise, quick strokes, organizing hospital visits with lists and schedules, consoling Swathi with calm words she hadn’t shown before. He didn’t know this version of her. He was happy — relieved to see her heal — but puzzled. Where had this come from?
She had been a pillar of support for him and Swathi — emotionally staying by their side, giving him peace when he needed it most. When he came home exhausted from “meetings,” she had dinner ready, a quiet hug waiting. When Swathi broke down at the hospital, Mirnaa was there — hand on her shoulder, soft words: “He’ll come back. We’ll be here when he does.” She never complained about his late nights downstairs with Swathi. Never asked why he sometimes smelled faintly of hospital antiseptic and coffee at 2 a.m. She just stayed — and watched.
The routines followed for another week.
Parallel - Aadharsh’s Men – The Same Weeks
Aadharsh’s men were ghosts — three of them, rotating shifts, in nondescript cars and plain clothes. They followed Swathi to the hospital, Vikram to “meetings” in quiet cafés, Mirnaa to the electronic shops and Shiney’s house. They took notes: times, locations, conversations overheard from afar. Photos snapped from hidden angles. Reports sent back to Aadharsh in encrypted files.
Aadharsh reviewed them in his hideout — a cramped apartment in Jayanagar, blinds drawn.
“Vikram meets unknown men at night,” one report said. “Swathi hugs him too long at hospital. Mirnaa visits a doctor a woman in Anna Nagar — prolonged hours.”
He was building a file — clues, details, anything to lock Vikram legally. Courts. cops. Evidence. Fist and punch wouldn’t work anymore. Vikram had power. Money. Men. He defended himself like a machine.
All these days Aadharsh had miscalculated him as just a driver. No — he was the secret king his father Sekaran had groomed. The real power.
Aadharsh needed someone sharper — a lawyer, a corrupt cop, someone who could plant traps, frame Vikram, tie him up in cases that stuck.
he know he can get help of bharath, but he is again a enemy a backstabber, who made him fall.. he wanted to catch bharath and punish him but he felt punishing him will make vikam aleert. now vikram already know his movings, he decided to stay quiet for a while.. once vikram is finished by him , he will go behind bharath to punish him, that was his plan.
Untile then he decided to stayed hidden — wait and plan.
Chennai one night at Rishis Home:
Rishi had gone to duty that evening — a night shift at the station. Malini was alone in the small apartment, watching TV,
Malini locked the door after rishi went. The apartment was quiet — only the TV murmuring in the background.
Malini for some reason looked so sexy that night, he forget she is his friends wife, they were very friendly and she knows all secrets.. but they never crossed lines and never inteneded to once.
but after months of no sex, Bharath ached, he wanted some women, and malini so sexy before him, and her hips ,curves, a homely figure and afriends wife a kick what else reason he want?
he decided to give a try, he kept his face sobbing, that malini would notice..
“Bharath… what happened? You look broken.”
Bharath faked it all — tears in his eyes, voice breaking.
Bharath said: no use sharing it
Malini: wont you share with me, is this is all between us? i consider you as my thick friend , not as rishis friend.
Bharath calculatedly said we are adults hope i can share you...
Malini said continue... i will hear listen.. i wont judge you...
He continued
“Manya… she denies me everything. Says she needs time. Remembers her late husband. I feel like a fool. I gave her everything — assets, love — and she just… pushes me away. I can’t even kiss anyone else. Whenever I try, her image comes in my head. I’m stuck. I’m broken.”
Malini’s eyes softened — maternal, pitying.
“Oh Bharath… you poor thing.”
She hugged him — tight, comforting.
Bharath leaned into it — let the hug linger. His hand slipped to her waist — light, innocent at first.
Malini didn’t pull away.
He lifted his head — eyes wet, voice low.
“Malini… you always understood me. You always saw me.”
She smiled — soft, sad.
“You’re like family.”
Bharath’s hand moved — thumb brushing her side.
“More than that, maybe?”
Malini’s breath caught. She looked at him — eyes widening.
“Bharath…”
He leaned in — slow, giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t.
The kiss was tentative at first — soft, exploring. Then deeper. Malini’s hands came up to his chest — not pushing, gripping.
Bharath pulled back — whispered.
“I can’t… I can’t even feel anything with anyone else. Her image blocks everything. Help me… just once. Let me feel something real again.”
Malini hesitated — glanced toward the empty bedroom.
Then nodded — small, guilty.
“One time,” she whispered. “Just to help you.”
They moved to the bedroom — quiet, quick. Bharath locked the door. Pulled her close.
Bharath started with gentle kisses along the curve of her neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below her ear. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, warm breath sending shivers down her spine.
“You’re so beautiful, Malini,” he murmured, fingers tracing the line of her collarbone. “Rishi never sees you the way I do. He takes you for granted. I’ve been lonely for so long… no one touches me like this anymore.”
Malini’s breath hitched. She tilted her head back, exposing more of her throat. Her hands slid into his hair — not pushing him away, but pulling him closer. The guilt was there, flickering in her eyes, but the loneliness and the heat drowned it out.
Bharath undressed her with deliberate care — reverent at first, almost worshipful. Blouse buttons slipped open one by one, revealing soft skin flushed with anticipation. Bra unhooked, falling away.
Saree pleats loosened and pooled at her feet like spilled silk. Petticoat strings tugged free.
She stood naked before him — shy, trembling, nipples hardening in the cool air of the room, thighs already slick with arousal.
He dropped to his knees — kissed the gentle swell of her stomach, the dip of her waist, the inner curve of her thigh. Then higher — tongue slow, teasing, parting her folds. Malini gasped — loud, involuntary — hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sound. Her legs shook. Her hips jerked forward instinctively.
Bharath rose — shedding his own clothes quickly, erection thick and heavy, veins pulsing. He pulled her to the bed — laid her down like she was precious, but the gentleness ended there.
He climbed over her — eyes locked on hers. “Today,” he rasped, voice rough with months of pent-up need, “consider us husband and wife. Just once. Let me have you like I’ve wanted to for so long.”
Malini’s eyes widened — shocked, yet dark with want.
“Rishi would think I’m like a sister to you…” she whispered, voice trembling.
Bharath leaned down — lips brushing hers.
“Tonight I’m not your brother-in-law. I’m your husband. And you’re mine.”
He took a condom from the pocket, he already had and covered his penis.
He thrust into her in one deep, brutal stroke — no preamble, no mercy. Malini’s back arched off the bed — a sharp cry escaping before she bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. He was huge — stretching her, filling her completely, the sudden invasion after months of celibacy making her body clench around him in shock and pleasure.
Bharath groaned — low, animal — and began to move.
He fucked her hard — relentless, punishing thrusts that rocked the bed frame, slammed the headboard against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively — heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper. Nails raked down his shoulders, leaving red trails. Her breasts bounced with every slam, nipples grazing his chest.
Malini’s eyes were wide — shocked at how good it felt, how badly she needed it. Every movement sent sparks through her — the stretch, the friction, the raw power of him claiming her. She moaned — muffled against his shoulder — body arching, hips rising to meet him.
![[Image: (m=ldpwiqacxtE_Ai)(mh=wofHqQ0HaGQ4Q3Mx)1...2F5MxpQ%3D]](https://egl.phncdn.com/pics/gifs/015/338/742/(m=ldpwiqacxtE_Ai)(mh=wofHqQ0HaGQ4Q3Mx)15338742b.gif?validfrom=1762923600&validto=4891363200&hash=WwbybwDSQ%2FUYVqQ92Sc6%2F%2F5MxpQ%3D)
He flipped her onto her stomach — gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. Pulled her ass up, slammed back in from behind — deeper angle, hitting places that made her sob with pleasure. One hand fisted her hair — tugging her head back so he could see her face in the mirror across the room. Her mouth open, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed.
He pounded into her — brutal, unyielding — destroying her rhythm, stretching her wide, filling her over and over until she shattered. Her orgasm hit like a storm — convulsing, crying his name into the pillow, walls fluttering around him. Bharath followed seconds later — burying himself to the hilt, spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan.
They collapsed — sweating, panting, bodies slick.
Malini turned her head — eyes wet, voice hoarse.
“We… we keep this from Rishi.”
Bharath kissed her shoulder — gentle now, almost tender.
“Always,” he whispered.
But he knew it wouldn’t be once.
Every time Rishi was on night duty after that — long shifts, empty house — Bharath came over. Knocked softly. Malini let him in. The sex became regular — brutal, hungry, secret.
He fucked her on the sofa when Rishi was late, in the kitchen against the counter when Rishi was on call, against the wall in the hallway when Rishi was asleep in the next room. Malini protested at first — “We shouldn’t…” — but gave in every time, body craving what Rishi never gave her.
They kept Rishi unaware.
Mirnaa filled every waking minute with purpose — as if stillness would let the doubts swallow her whole.
She rose at 5:30 a.m. every day. Cooked breakfast for Vikram (idli-sambar, filter coffee the way he liked it — strong, no sugar). Packed hospital food for Krish’s room: soft khichdi, vegetable kootu, mashed banana, fresh pomegranate juice in a steel flask. She drove to the hospital by 8 a.m., sat with Swathi for an hour — holding her hand during doctor rounds, bringing small comforts (a new pillowcase, a warm shawl, a small photo of Priya to tape on the wall). She spend an hour every day at electonic shops, each day a branch
Then she went shopping — fresh vegetables from Koyambedu market, fruits from roadside vendors, groceries for the house. Back home by noon — cooking lunch, cleaning, organizing. Afternoons: visiting Shiney’s house in Anna Nagar West — staying for prolonged hours, talking, laughing, sometimes crying. Shiney listened without judgment. Mirnaa cooked there too — quick meals, comfort food that filled the small flat with home smells.
She never left a minute wasted.
Vikram watched her — quietly, with a mix of awe and confusion. He had known her as gentle, sometimes fragile. Now she was something new. Stronger. Sharper. A new empowerment had come out of somewhere — surprising, almost fierce. She moved with purpose — chopping vegetables with precise, quick strokes, organizing hospital visits with lists and schedules, consoling Swathi with calm words she hadn’t shown before. He didn’t know this version of her. He was happy — relieved to see her heal — but puzzled. Where had this come from?
She had been a pillar of support for him and Swathi — emotionally staying by their side, giving him peace when he needed it most. When he came home exhausted from “meetings,” she had dinner ready, a quiet hug waiting. When Swathi broke down at the hospital, Mirnaa was there — hand on her shoulder, soft words: “He’ll come back. We’ll be here when he does.” She never complained about his late nights downstairs with Swathi. Never asked why he sometimes smelled faintly of hospital antiseptic and coffee at 2 a.m. She just stayed — and watched.
The routines followed for another week.
Parallel - Aadharsh’s Men – The Same Weeks
Aadharsh’s men were ghosts — three of them, rotating shifts, in nondescript cars and plain clothes. They followed Swathi to the hospital, Vikram to “meetings” in quiet cafés, Mirnaa to the electronic shops and Shiney’s house. They took notes: times, locations, conversations overheard from afar. Photos snapped from hidden angles. Reports sent back to Aadharsh in encrypted files.
Aadharsh reviewed them in his hideout — a cramped apartment in Jayanagar, blinds drawn.
“Vikram meets unknown men at night,” one report said. “Swathi hugs him too long at hospital. Mirnaa visits a doctor a woman in Anna Nagar — prolonged hours.”
He was building a file — clues, details, anything to lock Vikram legally. Courts. cops. Evidence. Fist and punch wouldn’t work anymore. Vikram had power. Money. Men. He defended himself like a machine.
All these days Aadharsh had miscalculated him as just a driver. No — he was the secret king his father Sekaran had groomed. The real power.
Aadharsh needed someone sharper — a lawyer, a corrupt cop, someone who could plant traps, frame Vikram, tie him up in cases that stuck.
he know he can get help of bharath, but he is again a enemy a backstabber, who made him fall.. he wanted to catch bharath and punish him but he felt punishing him will make vikam aleert. now vikram already know his movings, he decided to stay quiet for a while.. once vikram is finished by him , he will go behind bharath to punish him, that was his plan.
Untile then he decided to stayed hidden — wait and plan.
Chennai one night at Rishis Home:
Rishi had gone to duty that evening — a night shift at the station. Malini was alone in the small apartment, watching TV,
Malini locked the door after rishi went. The apartment was quiet — only the TV murmuring in the background.
Malini for some reason looked so sexy that night, he forget she is his friends wife, they were very friendly and she knows all secrets.. but they never crossed lines and never inteneded to once.
but after months of no sex, Bharath ached, he wanted some women, and malini so sexy before him, and her hips ,curves, a homely figure and afriends wife a kick what else reason he want?
he decided to give a try, he kept his face sobbing, that malini would notice..
“Bharath… what happened? You look broken.”
Bharath faked it all — tears in his eyes, voice breaking.
Bharath said: no use sharing it
Malini: wont you share with me, is this is all between us? i consider you as my thick friend , not as rishis friend.
Bharath calculatedly said we are adults hope i can share you...
Malini said continue... i will hear listen.. i wont judge you...
He continued
“Manya… she denies me everything. Says she needs time. Remembers her late husband. I feel like a fool. I gave her everything — assets, love — and she just… pushes me away. I can’t even kiss anyone else. Whenever I try, her image comes in my head. I’m stuck. I’m broken.”
Malini’s eyes softened — maternal, pitying.
“Oh Bharath… you poor thing.”
She hugged him — tight, comforting.
Bharath leaned into it — let the hug linger. His hand slipped to her waist — light, innocent at first.
Malini didn’t pull away.
He lifted his head — eyes wet, voice low.
“Malini… you always understood me. You always saw me.”
She smiled — soft, sad.
“You’re like family.”
Bharath’s hand moved — thumb brushing her side.
“More than that, maybe?”
Malini’s breath caught. She looked at him — eyes widening.
“Bharath…”
He leaned in — slow, giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t.
The kiss was tentative at first — soft, exploring. Then deeper. Malini’s hands came up to his chest — not pushing, gripping.
Bharath pulled back — whispered.
“I can’t… I can’t even feel anything with anyone else. Her image blocks everything. Help me… just once. Let me feel something real again.”
Malini hesitated — glanced toward the empty bedroom.
Then nodded — small, guilty.
“One time,” she whispered. “Just to help you.”
They moved to the bedroom — quiet, quick. Bharath locked the door. Pulled her close.
Bharath started with gentle kisses along the curve of her neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below her ear. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, warm breath sending shivers down her spine.
“You’re so beautiful, Malini,” he murmured, fingers tracing the line of her collarbone. “Rishi never sees you the way I do. He takes you for granted. I’ve been lonely for so long… no one touches me like this anymore.”
Malini’s breath hitched. She tilted her head back, exposing more of her throat. Her hands slid into his hair — not pushing him away, but pulling him closer. The guilt was there, flickering in her eyes, but the loneliness and the heat drowned it out.
Bharath undressed her with deliberate care — reverent at first, almost worshipful. Blouse buttons slipped open one by one, revealing soft skin flushed with anticipation. Bra unhooked, falling away.
Saree pleats loosened and pooled at her feet like spilled silk. Petticoat strings tugged free.
She stood naked before him — shy, trembling, nipples hardening in the cool air of the room, thighs already slick with arousal.
He dropped to his knees — kissed the gentle swell of her stomach, the dip of her waist, the inner curve of her thigh. Then higher — tongue slow, teasing, parting her folds. Malini gasped — loud, involuntary — hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sound. Her legs shook. Her hips jerked forward instinctively.
Bharath rose — shedding his own clothes quickly, erection thick and heavy, veins pulsing. He pulled her to the bed — laid her down like she was precious, but the gentleness ended there.
He climbed over her — eyes locked on hers. “Today,” he rasped, voice rough with months of pent-up need, “consider us husband and wife. Just once. Let me have you like I’ve wanted to for so long.”
Malini’s eyes widened — shocked, yet dark with want.
“Rishi would think I’m like a sister to you…” she whispered, voice trembling.
Bharath leaned down — lips brushing hers.
“Tonight I’m not your brother-in-law. I’m your husband. And you’re mine.”
He took a condom from the pocket, he already had and covered his penis.
He thrust into her in one deep, brutal stroke — no preamble, no mercy. Malini’s back arched off the bed — a sharp cry escaping before she bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. He was huge — stretching her, filling her completely, the sudden invasion after months of celibacy making her body clench around him in shock and pleasure.
Bharath groaned — low, animal — and began to move.
He fucked her hard — relentless, punishing thrusts that rocked the bed frame, slammed the headboard against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively — heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper. Nails raked down his shoulders, leaving red trails. Her breasts bounced with every slam, nipples grazing his chest.
Malini’s eyes were wide — shocked at how good it felt, how badly she needed it. Every movement sent sparks through her — the stretch, the friction, the raw power of him claiming her. She moaned — muffled against his shoulder — body arching, hips rising to meet him.
He flipped her onto her stomach — gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. Pulled her ass up, slammed back in from behind — deeper angle, hitting places that made her sob with pleasure. One hand fisted her hair — tugging her head back so he could see her face in the mirror across the room. Her mouth open, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed.
He pounded into her — brutal, unyielding — destroying her rhythm, stretching her wide, filling her over and over until she shattered. Her orgasm hit like a storm — convulsing, crying his name into the pillow, walls fluttering around him. Bharath followed seconds later — burying himself to the hilt, spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan.
They collapsed — sweating, panting, bodies slick.
Malini turned her head — eyes wet, voice hoarse.
“We… we keep this from Rishi.”
Bharath kissed her shoulder — gentle now, almost tender.
“Always,” he whispered.
But he knew it wouldn’t be once.
Every time Rishi was on night duty after that — long shifts, empty house — Bharath came over. Knocked softly. Malini let him in. The sex became regular — brutal, hungry, secret.
He fucked her on the sofa when Rishi was late, in the kitchen against the counter when Rishi was on call, against the wall in the hallway when Rishi was asleep in the next room. Malini protested at first — “We shouldn’t…” — but gave in every time, body craving what Rishi never gave her.
They kept Rishi unaware.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)