03-03-2026, 07:42 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-03-2026, 07:49 PM by heygiwriter. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 154 - Mirna pushed the hatred more...
Bharath moves faster than he could, Vikram made a mistake, he did not remove access to the digital folders that he shared with bharath. It had all original ledger bills, account information secret. And most with his approval sign, voice notes.. Bharath took everything.. But it is not enough to lock Vikram.. Bharath needs more access to vikram.. That could be possibly only through Mirna
Mirna on other hand becomes more deliberate to cause a scene at house.. Swathi starts feeling the heat but reality hits her.. She was dependent on Vikram now.. She cannot offend them.. Every detail of Krish's business empire to all needed Vikram’s support. Krish brother got everything when krish decided to leave to india .. he purchased all krish assets for money and krish had deposited the same money in business. Even if not for money, her emotional support is now Vikram alone.
Vikram came home one evening to find Mirnaa on the phone in the living room, voice sharp.
“Swathi, the laundry basket is overflowing again. Can you sort it tonight? I’m exhausted. And Priya’s toys are everywhere—clean them up before she trips.”
Swathi looked up from the sofa, Priya on her lap, surprised but nodded quickly. “Of course, Mirnaa. I’ll do it now.”
Vikram’s jaw tightened. He waited until Swathi left the room.
“You could have asked her nicely,” he said quietly.
Mirnaa shrugged. “She offered to help. I’m just taking it.”
The next morning, Mirnaa “forgot” to pack Vikram’s lunch.and she was about to leave the house.. Vikram who was there found only Swathi’s neatly wrapped containers, he paused.
Swathi appeared behind him. “I made extra. Thought you might need it.”
Vikram smiled at her—grateful, warm. Mirnaa watched from the hallway, chest tight. She turned away before he saw her expression.
Later that afternoon, Mirnaa handed Swathi a pile of Vikram’s shirts. “These need ironing. You’re just free at home right please start doing it. I hate giving vikrams shirts outside..”
Swathi took them without complaint. Vikram walked in just as she was setting up the board.
“Mirnaa,” he said, voice low, “you’ve been giving her all the chores lately.”
“She wants to help,” Mirnaa replied, not meeting his eyes. “I’m busy.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Busy,” he repeated. The word hung between them like a question she wouldn’t answer.
That evening, Vikram and Swathi sat in the living room after dinner. Mirnaa had gone upstairs early—claiming a headache again. Their conversation drifted from Krish’s condition to small memories, then to everyday things. Swathi laughed softly at something Vikram said. The sound carried up the stairs.
Mirnaa stood at the top landing, listening. She told herself it was fine. It was what she wanted. Vikram needed someone who could laugh with him, who didn’t carry so much silence.
But her fingers curled around the railing until her knuckles whitened.
The next night she came home even later. Swathi had already served dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and left a plate covered for Mirnaa. Vikram was in the study, working on his laptop. When Mirnaa walked in, he didn’t look up right away.
“You’re late again,” he said—quiet, not accusing, but tired.
“Shop stuff,” she replied, setting her bag down.
He closed the laptop slowly. “Mirnaa… what’s going on?”
She froze for a second, then forced a shrug. “Nothing. Just tired.”
He studied her. “You’ve been tired a lot. And Swathi’s doing everything here. You barely speak to her—or me.”
Mirnaa met his eyes briefly. “She’s happy to help. Let her.”
Vikram said she is not our servant, our guest do you forget it?
Vikram’s voice dropped. “I don’t like how you’re talking to her.
Or how you’re talking to me.”
Mirnaa turned away. “Then don’t like it.”
She walked upstairs before he could respond.
In the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands. Every small cruelty she had inflicted that week—every late arrival, every chore pushed onto Swathi, every curt reply—had been deliberate. She wanted him to grow frustrated. Angry. Resentful. She wanted him to stop looking at her with worry and start looking at her with relief when she was finally gone.
But tonight, when he came up, he didn’t speak. He just lay down beside her, back turned. No arm around her waist. No goodnight.
Mirnaa stared at the ceiling in the dark, listening to his breathing slow into sleep.
She had wanted him to hate her.
She hadn’t expected it to hurt this much when he started to.
Bharath moves faster than he could, Vikram made a mistake, he did not remove access to the digital folders that he shared with bharath. It had all original ledger bills, account information secret. And most with his approval sign, voice notes.. Bharath took everything.. But it is not enough to lock Vikram.. Bharath needs more access to vikram.. That could be possibly only through Mirna
Mirna on other hand becomes more deliberate to cause a scene at house.. Swathi starts feeling the heat but reality hits her.. She was dependent on Vikram now.. She cannot offend them.. Every detail of Krish's business empire to all needed Vikram’s support. Krish brother got everything when krish decided to leave to india .. he purchased all krish assets for money and krish had deposited the same money in business. Even if not for money, her emotional support is now Vikram alone.
Vikram came home one evening to find Mirnaa on the phone in the living room, voice sharp.
“Swathi, the laundry basket is overflowing again. Can you sort it tonight? I’m exhausted. And Priya’s toys are everywhere—clean them up before she trips.”
Swathi looked up from the sofa, Priya on her lap, surprised but nodded quickly. “Of course, Mirnaa. I’ll do it now.”
Vikram’s jaw tightened. He waited until Swathi left the room.
“You could have asked her nicely,” he said quietly.
Mirnaa shrugged. “She offered to help. I’m just taking it.”
The next morning, Mirnaa “forgot” to pack Vikram’s lunch.and she was about to leave the house.. Vikram who was there found only Swathi’s neatly wrapped containers, he paused.
Swathi appeared behind him. “I made extra. Thought you might need it.”
Vikram smiled at her—grateful, warm. Mirnaa watched from the hallway, chest tight. She turned away before he saw her expression.
Later that afternoon, Mirnaa handed Swathi a pile of Vikram’s shirts. “These need ironing. You’re just free at home right please start doing it. I hate giving vikrams shirts outside..”
Swathi took them without complaint. Vikram walked in just as she was setting up the board.
“Mirnaa,” he said, voice low, “you’ve been giving her all the chores lately.”
“She wants to help,” Mirnaa replied, not meeting his eyes. “I’m busy.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Busy,” he repeated. The word hung between them like a question she wouldn’t answer.
That evening, Vikram and Swathi sat in the living room after dinner. Mirnaa had gone upstairs early—claiming a headache again. Their conversation drifted from Krish’s condition to small memories, then to everyday things. Swathi laughed softly at something Vikram said. The sound carried up the stairs.
Mirnaa stood at the top landing, listening. She told herself it was fine. It was what she wanted. Vikram needed someone who could laugh with him, who didn’t carry so much silence.
But her fingers curled around the railing until her knuckles whitened.
The next night she came home even later. Swathi had already served dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and left a plate covered for Mirnaa. Vikram was in the study, working on his laptop. When Mirnaa walked in, he didn’t look up right away.
“You’re late again,” he said—quiet, not accusing, but tired.
“Shop stuff,” she replied, setting her bag down.
He closed the laptop slowly. “Mirnaa… what’s going on?”
She froze for a second, then forced a shrug. “Nothing. Just tired.”
He studied her. “You’ve been tired a lot. And Swathi’s doing everything here. You barely speak to her—or me.”
Mirnaa met his eyes briefly. “She’s happy to help. Let her.”
Vikram said she is not our servant, our guest do you forget it?
Vikram’s voice dropped. “I don’t like how you’re talking to her.
Or how you’re talking to me.”
Mirnaa turned away. “Then don’t like it.”
She walked upstairs before he could respond.
In the bedroom, she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands. Every small cruelty she had inflicted that week—every late arrival, every chore pushed onto Swathi, every curt reply—had been deliberate. She wanted him to grow frustrated. Angry. Resentful. She wanted him to stop looking at her with worry and start looking at her with relief when she was finally gone.
But tonight, when he came up, he didn’t speak. He just lay down beside her, back turned. No arm around her waist. No goodnight.
Mirnaa stared at the ceiling in the dark, listening to his breathing slow into sleep.
She had wanted him to hate her.
She hadn’t expected it to hurt this much when he started to.
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