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(This post was last modified: 7 hours ago by heygiwriter. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Chapter 155: Twists and Turns
Jay sat at his desk, completely unaware of the storm that had unfolded. He assumed Tharun and Nikitha had already married by now. The thought left him restless, a quiet ache he buried under work.
That noon, he was surprised to see Nikitha walking back into the office, looking composed but tired. Soon, the office WhatsApp group exploded with photos: Tharun and Mithra, dressed traditionally, exchanging garlands at the temple. Jay stared at the images, a quiet happiness blooming inside him. He didn’t show it outwardly. He had no idea what had really happened — or why Nikitha had suddenly disappeared that night.
He waited until evening. When Nikitha stepped into the parking lot, Jay blocked her path.
“I need to speak with you.”
Hours later, they sat at a quiet rooftop café, the city lights twinkling below them. No one else was around. Over coffee, Nikitha opened up.
“I planned all of this,” she confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “The disappearance, everything. That night at your house, I called Tharun’s mother and told her my plan. His family knows and supported me because they want real happiness for him. Mithra didn’t agree easily, but his mother convinced her. I stayed hidden at Mithra’s place for those two days. I came to the temple with her. I was ready to damage my own reputation — let everyone call me unreliable, selfish, a runaway. I’m willing to take all the blame if it means setting Tharun free from this obsession.”
Jay listened quietly, then asked, “What’s the next plan?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. After a long hesitation, she told him about the filthy deal.
Jay was shocked. “You agreed to that? Once a month?”
“I trust Mithra,” she said. “She’ll change him with time.”
Jay shook his head. “He’s full of anger. I can see it. This won’t end well.”
“Time will heal,” she replied softly.
“Bullshit. Time never heals. It only expands the pain.”
Before they parted, Jay offered gently, “If you have no place to go, come back to the house. It was built with your sweat too.”
“I know,” she said with a small smile. “But I don’t want to bother anyone. I fixed things with you by creating distance. I fixed Mithra and Tharun’s life. Next, I can finally focus on my mother’s case and the property issues.”
Jay nodded.
Months passed.
Nikitha fought fiercely in court, pouring everything into the legal battles, but results were slow and often fruitless. Tharun didn’t immediately accept Mithra. His conscience tortured him. Whenever the suffocation became too much, he would seek out Nikitha. They met once a month. The sex was mechanical, lacking the spark and magic they once shared. Nikitha endured it, hoping the growing guilt would eventually reshape him.
Jay became her steady friend — nothing more, nothing less. They explored small local hotels, shared quiet meals, and found unexpected peace in simple companionship.
At the end of the third month, a major breakthrough came. Nikitha’s father, who had remained mostly idle, gave a crucial hint to her lawyer. The truth emerged: Nikitha’s stepmother had hidden her biological mother’s will.
The will was clear — Nikitha could take full control of the assets only after she got married, maintained a stable married life, and bore a child. Any transactions made before that — including the fraudulent transfers by her stepmother — were invalid. If Nikitha disobeyed the conditions before a certain age, her father would take over the assets.
The stepmother’s changes to property titles were now nullified. But the conditions remained.
“You need a stable marriage and a child within a year,” her lawyer warned gravely.
Nikitha’s world spun. One year. Marriage. A child. The words echoed in her skull as she stumbled out of the office into the humid evening air. Where on earth was she supposed to find those?
Her legs carried her almost on autopilot, the familiar route pulling her like muscle memory. Before she could talk herself out of it, she was standing in front of Jay’s house, heart hammering against her ribs.
Jay opened the door in a faded black t-shirt, his hair still damp from a shower. The moment he saw her pale face, his easy smirk faltered. “Nikki? What happened?”
She pushed past him into the living room and spilled everything in a breathless rush—the will, the conditions, the one-year deadline, her stepmother’s schemes now technically reversed but still trapping her. Jay listened, eyebrows climbing higher with every sentence.
When she finished, he burst out laughing.
“You came back to ask me to act like your husband?” He doubled over, clutching his stomach. “Bullshit, I can’t!”
Nikitha glared at him, cheeks burning. “This isn’t funny, Jay!”
See i helped you to get you back with your parents.
Getting my mom propertyy back in my hand is important.
My father will listen only to step mother, its was a magice he gave this, i cant expect magic happening again and again.
this is only my chance.
He tried to compose himself, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, but failed miserably. “You and your mother really know how to make only complicated decisions in life, huh? Marriage and a kid? In one year?”
After a few more helpless chuckles, he straightened up, still grinning.
“Okay… let’s say I agree to this insane fake-husband plan. What about the kid part?”
Nikitha thought quickly, her mind racing. “We fake a pregnancy.
When people ask, we’ll say there’s some medical issue—high-risk or whatever. We can make it work.”
Jay smirked, folding his arms. “They won’t believe it for a second.”
“Let me try to act like I’m vomiting. They’ll buy it. Who’s going to check my pulse?”
“Okay, enact it then. Impress me, future fake wife.”
Nikitha rolled her eyes, then dramatically clutched her stomach and bent forward with an exaggerated retch.
Instead of acting, she instantly vomited for real—splattering the floor.
Jay, who had been laughing again, froze mid-chuckle. “Oh my god, your acting is so real, Nikki!”
She looked up at him weakly, eyes watering. “I… I really vomited.”
The nausea didn’t stop. She doubled over for a second round, then a third. Dizziness slammed into her like a wave. The room tilted. Jay’s laughter vanished completely.
In minute she passed out, and Jay tried wake her up but she didnt respond.
In an instant he was at her side, strong arms scooping her up as if she weighed nothing.
“Shit—hold on,” he muttered, voice tight with panic. He carried her to his car, buckling her in with surprising gentleness before speeding toward the hospital.
After what felt like an eternity in the emergency room—bright lights, beeping machines, and the sharp smell of antiseptic—the doctor finally entered with a warm smile.
“Congratulations,” she said, glancing down at the chart. “Nikitha is pregnant. Looks like three months, by the looks of it.”
Both Jay and Nikitha froze, staring at the doctor in stunned silence.
The air in the room grew thick. Jay’s hand, which had been resting on Nikitha’s shoulder for support, suddenly felt heavier. Nikitha’s mouth opened, but no words came out. The fake plan they had joked about only minutes ago had somehow become devastatingly, impossibly real.
Jay’s wide-eyed gaze met hers. For the first time that evening, neither of them was laughing.
Jay sat at his desk, completely unaware of the storm that had unfolded. He assumed Tharun and Nikitha had already married by now. The thought left him restless, a quiet ache he buried under work.
That noon, he was surprised to see Nikitha walking back into the office, looking composed but tired. Soon, the office WhatsApp group exploded with photos: Tharun and Mithra, dressed traditionally, exchanging garlands at the temple. Jay stared at the images, a quiet happiness blooming inside him. He didn’t show it outwardly. He had no idea what had really happened — or why Nikitha had suddenly disappeared that night.
He waited until evening. When Nikitha stepped into the parking lot, Jay blocked her path.
“I need to speak with you.”
Hours later, they sat at a quiet rooftop café, the city lights twinkling below them. No one else was around. Over coffee, Nikitha opened up.
“I planned all of this,” she confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “The disappearance, everything. That night at your house, I called Tharun’s mother and told her my plan. His family knows and supported me because they want real happiness for him. Mithra didn’t agree easily, but his mother convinced her. I stayed hidden at Mithra’s place for those two days. I came to the temple with her. I was ready to damage my own reputation — let everyone call me unreliable, selfish, a runaway. I’m willing to take all the blame if it means setting Tharun free from this obsession.”
Jay listened quietly, then asked, “What’s the next plan?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. After a long hesitation, she told him about the filthy deal.
Jay was shocked. “You agreed to that? Once a month?”
“I trust Mithra,” she said. “She’ll change him with time.”
Jay shook his head. “He’s full of anger. I can see it. This won’t end well.”
“Time will heal,” she replied softly.
“Bullshit. Time never heals. It only expands the pain.”
Before they parted, Jay offered gently, “If you have no place to go, come back to the house. It was built with your sweat too.”
“I know,” she said with a small smile. “But I don’t want to bother anyone. I fixed things with you by creating distance. I fixed Mithra and Tharun’s life. Next, I can finally focus on my mother’s case and the property issues.”
Jay nodded.
Months passed.
Nikitha fought fiercely in court, pouring everything into the legal battles, but results were slow and often fruitless. Tharun didn’t immediately accept Mithra. His conscience tortured him. Whenever the suffocation became too much, he would seek out Nikitha. They met once a month. The sex was mechanical, lacking the spark and magic they once shared. Nikitha endured it, hoping the growing guilt would eventually reshape him.
Jay became her steady friend — nothing more, nothing less. They explored small local hotels, shared quiet meals, and found unexpected peace in simple companionship.
At the end of the third month, a major breakthrough came. Nikitha’s father, who had remained mostly idle, gave a crucial hint to her lawyer. The truth emerged: Nikitha’s stepmother had hidden her biological mother’s will.
The will was clear — Nikitha could take full control of the assets only after she got married, maintained a stable married life, and bore a child. Any transactions made before that — including the fraudulent transfers by her stepmother — were invalid. If Nikitha disobeyed the conditions before a certain age, her father would take over the assets.
The stepmother’s changes to property titles were now nullified. But the conditions remained.
“You need a stable marriage and a child within a year,” her lawyer warned gravely.
Nikitha’s world spun. One year. Marriage. A child. The words echoed in her skull as she stumbled out of the office into the humid evening air. Where on earth was she supposed to find those?
Her legs carried her almost on autopilot, the familiar route pulling her like muscle memory. Before she could talk herself out of it, she was standing in front of Jay’s house, heart hammering against her ribs.
Jay opened the door in a faded black t-shirt, his hair still damp from a shower. The moment he saw her pale face, his easy smirk faltered. “Nikki? What happened?”
She pushed past him into the living room and spilled everything in a breathless rush—the will, the conditions, the one-year deadline, her stepmother’s schemes now technically reversed but still trapping her. Jay listened, eyebrows climbing higher with every sentence.
When she finished, he burst out laughing.
“You came back to ask me to act like your husband?” He doubled over, clutching his stomach. “Bullshit, I can’t!”
Nikitha glared at him, cheeks burning. “This isn’t funny, Jay!”
See i helped you to get you back with your parents.
Getting my mom propertyy back in my hand is important.
My father will listen only to step mother, its was a magice he gave this, i cant expect magic happening again and again.
this is only my chance.
He tried to compose himself, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, but failed miserably. “You and your mother really know how to make only complicated decisions in life, huh? Marriage and a kid? In one year?”
After a few more helpless chuckles, he straightened up, still grinning.
“Okay… let’s say I agree to this insane fake-husband plan. What about the kid part?”
Nikitha thought quickly, her mind racing. “We fake a pregnancy.
When people ask, we’ll say there’s some medical issue—high-risk or whatever. We can make it work.”
Jay smirked, folding his arms. “They won’t believe it for a second.”
“Let me try to act like I’m vomiting. They’ll buy it. Who’s going to check my pulse?”
“Okay, enact it then. Impress me, future fake wife.”
Nikitha rolled her eyes, then dramatically clutched her stomach and bent forward with an exaggerated retch.
Instead of acting, she instantly vomited for real—splattering the floor.
Jay, who had been laughing again, froze mid-chuckle. “Oh my god, your acting is so real, Nikki!”
She looked up at him weakly, eyes watering. “I… I really vomited.”
The nausea didn’t stop. She doubled over for a second round, then a third. Dizziness slammed into her like a wave. The room tilted. Jay’s laughter vanished completely.
In minute she passed out, and Jay tried wake her up but she didnt respond.
In an instant he was at her side, strong arms scooping her up as if she weighed nothing.
“Shit—hold on,” he muttered, voice tight with panic. He carried her to his car, buckling her in with surprising gentleness before speeding toward the hospital.
After what felt like an eternity in the emergency room—bright lights, beeping machines, and the sharp smell of antiseptic—the doctor finally entered with a warm smile.
“Congratulations,” she said, glancing down at the chart. “Nikitha is pregnant. Looks like three months, by the looks of it.”
Both Jay and Nikitha froze, staring at the doctor in stunned silence.
The air in the room grew thick. Jay’s hand, which had been resting on Nikitha’s shoulder for support, suddenly felt heavier. Nikitha’s mouth opened, but no words came out. The fake plan they had joked about only minutes ago had somehow become devastatingly, impossibly real.
Jay’s wide-eyed gaze met hers. For the first time that evening, neither of them was laughing.
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