[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER CONTD)

SOMEDAYS LATER AT RAGINI'S APARTMENT



The faint smell of sandalwood filled Ragini’s apartment, calm and soothing, the kind of environment that usually helped Sonarika breathe easier. The evening sunlight fell through the sheer curtains, painting the walls in quiet amber. But today, peace refused to stay. Ragini poured two cups of herbal tea, her movements unhurried, though she could already sense that Sonarika hadn’t come just for small talk. Her friend sat on the couch—stiff, pale, her fingers nervously fidgeting with her bracelet.

"Here" Ragini said softly, handing her the cup. 

"You look like you’ve been awake all night. What’s wrong?"

Sonarika hesitated. Her lips trembled as she tried to find the right words. Then, like something snapping, she spoke in a rush. 

"I made the same mistake again, Ragini"

Ragini froze, her tea untouched. 

"What do you mean?"

Sonarika lowered her eyes, her voice breaking. 

"I went back to Vikram. I… slept with him again"

For a moment, silence consumed the room. The ticking clock on the wall grew deafening. Then Ragini set her cup down, her calm cracking into sharp disbelief. 

"Sonarika—no. Not again" Her voice was low, angry, trembling with concern. 

"You were supposed to be done with it. You knew what it did to you last time"

"I know!" Sonarika cried out, clutching her head. 

"I thought I was stronger this time, that I could stay away. But the moment I saw him, I—" 

She broke off, breath quivering. 

"I couldn’t help it. He has this hold on me, Ragini. I feel like I lose control of my body when he’s near"

Ragini’s face hardened. 

"You’re not a child, Sona. You don’t lose control—you let him take it from you. You’re feeding the same wound that’s destroying you"

Tears streamed down Sonarika’s cheeks. 

"You don’t understand. I tried everything. Hemant’s tenderness, his gentleness—it feels distant, like a lullaby I can’t hear anymore. And Vikram…" 

She swallowed hard, her voice softening into something shameful. 

"Vikram tempts me. He’s like gravity. I hate myself for it, but I crave him. His touch silences the noise inside me for a while"

Ragini looked away, fighting her own frustration. When she finally met Sonarika’s eyes, her expression had changed—less angry, more haunted. 

"Do you remember what Dr. Neha said about your accident? How your head injury could’ve affected your emotional regulation? The impulsiveness, the dependency?"

Sonarika blinked, confused. 

"She mentioned something… about that. But I thought it was just a theory"

Ragini leaned forward, her tone turning serious. 

"It’s not just a theory anymore, Sonarika. I’ve seen it. You’re repeating the same pattern no matter how much pain it brings you. That’s not just emotional weakness—it’s neurological. It’s like your mind is addicted to the chaos he gives you"

Sonarika’s eyes widened, her lips parting as the words sank in. 

"Addicted? You think I’m addicted to Vikram?"

"I think something’s wrong, yes" Ragini said firmly. 

"And we’re not going to fix it with therapy sessions alone. I need you to trust me"

"How?" Sonarika whispered, her voice small.

Ragini stood, walked to her writing desk, and picked up a small notebook filled with scribbles and folded notes. She flipped through a few pages before speaking again. 

"Can you take a day off this week?"

"Yes, I can. Why?"

"Because I want to take you somewhere" Ragini said, closing the notebook. 

"Somewhere important. Somewhere to finf out about you. We’ll figure this out together—what’s actually happening to you. But I need you to trust me completely"

Sonarika frowned, confused. 

"Where are we going?"

Ragini smiled gently but didn’t answer. 

"You’ll see when we get there. Just promise me one thing—don’t tell anyone about it. Not Hemant. Not Vikram. Not even Anjali. The fewer people who know, the better"

Sonarika hesitated. There was something strange about Ragini’s tone—not frightening, but heavy, almost secretive. 

"Ragini, you’re making this sound serious"

"It is serious" Ragini replied softly. 

"But not hopeless. I promise, Sona—whatever this is, we’ll find the root of it. You’ve been fighting yourself long enough. Let me help you understand why"

Sonarika stared at her friend, tears glistening in her eyes. 

"I don’t know what I’d do without you"

Ragini smiled faintly and crossed the room to embrace her. 

"What are friends for. Just be ready that day. No more running from yourself"

Sonarika nodded against her shoulder, her voice trembling. 

"Thank you, Ragini. Really"

Ragini’s arms tightened briefly before letting her go. 

"Good. Then we start soon"

As Sonarika gathered her things to leave, she glanced back once more. Ragini stood by the window, watching the fading light with a thoughtful expression. For a brief moment, Sonarika wondered if there was something Ragini wasn’t saying—something behind those careful, knowing eyes.

But then she dismissed it. Ragini had been her savior. Her friend. Her only hope.



ONE FINE DAY


The corridors of Neuro Vision Hospital felt colder than Sonarika expected. White walls, antiseptic smell, distant hum of machines; it all pressed down on her like a silent weight. She clutched her handbag tightly, following Ragini through the glass doors. Inside, a familiar voice called her name. Sonarika turned sharply. Dr. Neha Bharadwaj stood near the reception desk, her calm professional smile in place.

"Neha?" Sonarika blinked. 

"What are you doing here? I thought this was just a talk Ragini wanted us to do. Why are we in a hospital?"

Neha’s smile softened. 

"It’s time to tell you the truth, Sonarika. We’re not here for a routine checkup. We’re here to understand what’s happening to you"

A flicker of unease rippled through Sonarika’s chest. She looked from Neha to Ragini. 

"You both are scaring me. What is this?"

Ragini gently took her arm. 

"Come with us. Please. You’re safe"

They led her through a quiet wing of the hospital to a frosted glass door marked Dr. Sangeetha Awasthi, Neurology. Inside, a woman in her late forties with sharp but kind eyes stood waiting, her white coat crisp, her hands clasped.

"Mrs. Sonarika Kumar" Dr. Awasthi said warmly. 

"Welcome. I’m Dr. Sangeetha Awasthi. We’ve set everything up already"

"Setup?" Sonarika’s voice cracked. 

"For what?"

Dr. Awasthi stepped closer. 

"An MRI scan. We need to look at your brain activity in real time. It’s completely safe, I promise"

Sonarika glanced between the three women, fear flickering in her eyes. 

"MRI? Why? What’s wrong with me?"

Neha placed a hand on her shoulder. 

"Nothing life-threatening. We’re here because we care. Please trust us"

Ragini nodded. 

"You’re not alone, Sona. We’re with you, no matter what"

Sonarika bit her lip, trembling slightly. 

"Alright. I’ll do it"

Minutes later, she was lying on a padded bed as the MRI machine loomed above her like a white tunnel. The nurse adjusted her head gently, slid her inside. The low, rhythmic thumping of the magnets started. Sonarika closed her eyes, gripping her palms. She felt like she was surrendering herself to some invisible judgment. Upstairs in the observation deck, Dr. Awasthi studied the monitor while Neha and Ragini stood behind her. The scan’s colored images shifted and pulsed. After several tense minutes, Awasthi exhaled slowly, her expression grave.

"You were right, Neha" she murmured. 

"The lesion from her old injury hasn’t just persisted—it’s been showing erratic decomposition. Look here, in the prefrontal region… these signals correlate with impulse regulation and sexual drive"

Neha’s jaw tightened. 

"This confirms it"

Ragini swallowed hard. 

"So it’s not just in her head…"

"No" Awasthi said firmly. 

"Her hypersexuality isn’t merely behavioral. It’s neurological"

When the scan ended, Sonarika was led to a private recovery room—soft lighting, a couch, a small table with water. She sat on the edge of the couch, twisting her fingers nervously. All three women stood near the doorway, strangely quiet.

"Why are you all so silent?" Sonarika whispered. 

"You’re scaring me. Please… just tell me"

Ragini moved first, sitting beside her. She took Sonarika’s cold hands in hers. 

"Sonarika, remember when Neha told you to be cautious with your actions?"

Sonarika nodded faintly. “Yes… she said I should be mindful. Why?”

"Because" Ragini said softly but firmly. 

"The things you’ve been doing lately—the impulsiveness, the craving, the choices—they’re not entirely conscious decisions. You’ve been fighting something you didn’t even know was inside you. Something that made you make those reckless decisions"

Sonarika blinked, her breath hitching. 

"What are you saying?"

Neha knelt in front of her. 

"Sonarika… you’re suffering from something called Cognitive Hypersexuality. It’s a rare condition where damage to certain parts of the brain creates compulsive sexual behavior. In your case, it stems from the head injury you had as a teenager"

Sonarika stared, stunned. 

"Head injury…? You mean the grill incident from Delhi? But I was already healed from it!"

Neha nodded. 

"Not exactly Sonarika. The injury decomposed and left a lesion. Over time, it’s influenced your impulses. When you were initially recovering from that , whatever feelings and actions you had , the injury amplified it. Those frequent visits to your then-boyfriend, the sexual intensity—it wasn’t just youthful recklessness. It was this condition slowly manifesting.”

Tears welled in Sonarika’s eyes. Neha continued.

"This is the reason you had a mental breakdown when you broke up with Rocky. Because you were being already addicted to the sex and him leaving made you desperate for it" 

Sonarika was still overwhelmed with emotions until doubt crossed her mind.

"But…...Hemant? I wasn't addicted to him? We had a normal marriage for years"

"Actually you did , you said to me in our therapy sessions how much both of you had trouble keeping their hands off of each other when you were freshly married. Only difference is Hemant wasn't a full on participant like Rocky or Vikram were. He came in your life with limitations , brought romance in a way you never felt before"

Sonarika remembered it , Neha was showing her the mirror of their marriage. Every kiss , every touch , it wasn't fuelled by intimacy , it was by love. She remembers the first time she had sex and how when he buried himself inside her , she didn't move. Just stared at him , look him in the eyes and felt him. Both their eyes wet with tears because in those moments , it was not just their bodies that were conjoining , but their souls were copulating with each other. 

"Hemant gave you a new perspective, a different life lesson you never got. When submission and reliance was your relationship dynamic with Rocky. Hemant brought the domain of responsibility , support and the true meaning of companionship with you. With him , you were no longer being obedient or submissive. You were treated as his equal , a partner" 

Neha explained gently. 

"His stability, his steadiness—they distracted your brain. Your marriage, even when you believed was actually boring, was actually protecting you. It was a counterweight to the condition"

Ragini’s voice trembled as she added. 

"And when Vikram, he triggered the old pathways. Heightened your urges. That’s why you feel so powerless around him—it’s your brain, not your soul"

Sonarika gasped, her whole body trembling. Memories flashed—their honeymoon, the first outdoor intimacy in Goa, the kitchen encounter she believed conceived Karan , the start of Vikram at Jabalpur , countless sex at Galaxy Apartments , trip of Bali , return to Vikram. All those moments of intensity now tinged with a new, horrifying clarity.

"I’m… I’m broken" she whispered. 

"I’m sick. Everything I’ve done… it’s me but not me. I’ve destroyed my life. I don’t deserve anything. I’m not worth saving. Maybe I should just—"

"Stop" Neha’s tone was firm but kind. She took Sonarika’s face in her hands. 

"This is not a death sentence. You are not a monster. This is a medical condition. It can be treated, managed. But you have to fight. You have to let us help you"

Ragini wrapped her arms around Sonarika from behind. 

"We’re here, Sona. All of us. No matter how dark this feels, you’re not alone anymore"

Sonarika sobbed into Ragini’s arms, shaking violently. 

"I ruined everything… Hemant, Karan, my marriage, and now even Vikram…"

Neha stroked her hair. 

"You’re not ruined. You’re hurt. And hurt people can heal"

For the first time in months, Sonarika let herself be held without resisting. Her tears wet Ragini’s shoulder, but Ragini didn’t move. She held on tighter, as if anchoring her friend to the earth.

"Let’s go home" Ragini said softly.

"My place. You need rest, safety, quiet. We’ll figure out the next step together"

Sonarika nodded weakly. She didn’t have words left. Because right now , her world was turned upside down , realizing that she was always sick and was neither loyal to Hemant nor to Vikram.



Ragini’s apartment was silent except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in slivers of pale afternoon light that painted the floor in uneven lines. Sonarika sat curled up on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest, her face pale and blank. Ragini set a glass of water near her. 

"Drink a little" she said softly.

Sonarika didn’t move. Her voice, when it came, was almost a whisper. 

"All of this… all this time, I thought I was making choices. But it was living to a sickness that controlled me"

Ragini sat beside her. 

"It wasn’t your fault"

Sonarika shook her head slowly. 

"You don’t understand. I remember everything now—how it started"

Her eyes stared into the distance, unfocused. 

"I was twenty when I met Rocky. He was my first love… and I couldn’t explain how it started but whatever it was , it began right after the accident. We spent hours together—fucking , exploring each other. I thought it was love, but it was something deeper, something darker. I couldn’t stop wanting him. Even when he ignored me, I kept going back. I didn’t know why. It was like I was addicted to the rush, to the need itself"

She paused, gripping the edge of the sofa. 

"When he left… it felt like someone ripped a piece of me out. I cried for weeks, but now I realize , it was not out of heartbreak—out of withdrawal. I couldn’t breathe without that chaos"

Ragini said nothing. She just let the words come.

"And then I met Hemant, everything changed. He was quiet, steady, kind. He was suffering with his darkness just like me and then we forged out lights together. And for the first time since my head injury, I felt peace. I thought, this is it—this is normal. The early days of marriage were warm, full of laughter and… closeness. I thought I was healed" 

She smiled faintly, then her expression crumbled. 

"But even then, I was the one who kept pushing for more, every night, as if I craved more from him. All my life I believed Hemant was holding back his true form , but in reality , Hemant never saw the real me. My sickness , it was holding me back!"

She took a trembling breath. 

"After Karan’s birth, things slowed down. And that frustration started to grow slowly , the same feeling I had when Rocky left me. All this time I thought it was the staleness of our marriage , but turns out it was my sickness clawing its way back to my senses. And then… then Vikram came"

The way she said his name was half regret, half yearning.

"Now I understand why I was so powerless with him. But soon, that familiar fire came back. I told myself it was a deeper feeling, that I was getting something from Vikram that I wasn't getting from Hemant at that time , completeness. But it wasn’t that. It was the same hunger that burned me before, only stronger. It took over everything—my thoughts, my body, my decisions. And I let it"

Tears slid down her cheeks. 

"Every time I told myself this is the last time, something inside me laughed. And I would go back. I thought I was in control, but I wasn’t. I was losing myself piece by piece.”

Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her temples. 

"There were moments, even in the worst times, when I could feel that pull—to surrender, to stop fighting, to give in no matter what. And now I realize that’s my weakness. That’s what this thing inside me does—it turns pain into temptation.”

She buried her face in her hands, her voice breaking. 

"I’m dangerous, Ragini. For everyone. For Hemant, for Vikram, for myself. I destroy whatever loves me. How do you heal something like that? How do you fix a brain that doesn’t know how to stop?"

Ragini reached for her hand, but Sonarika recoiled, shaking her head violently. 

"No! Don’t touch me. You shouldn’t even be near me. I don’t deserve any of you"

Then another voice spoke gently from the doorway. 

"That’s enough"

Neha stepped into the room, her expression calm but firm. 

"You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Sonarika. You get to decide whether you want to heal"

Sonarika lifted her tear-streaked face. 

"You don't understand Neha. That night when I was captive under Dilawar , there was a moment when I stopped fighting , my senses going crazy. I thought at that time it was panic , but it was my sickness , I was getting excited to Dilawar's advances , his roughness. The sickness was finding pleasure in it. And I was disgusted beyond myself about it. It's pointless , I am a wreck , I don't deserve redemption. Why would you want to help me?"

"Because you’re not beyond repair" Neha said. 

"Your brain can recover. Your patterns can change. This condition doesn’t define your soul, only your chemistry. And chemistry can be treated. More importantly you are now aware of your sickness , we kept it from you because we wanted to know whether you were capable to understand your own problem. But since we learn't you were going overboard with Vikram , we had to step in to help you. This is not the end Sonarika , you can still find your way to heal"

Ragini wiped a tear from Sonarika’s cheek. 

"You don’t have to do this alone. You have us now. We’ll walk you through every step, no matter how hard it gets"

Sonarika broke down completely then, sobbing into her hands as Neha and Ragini held her from both sides. It wasn’t just grief—it was the release of years of guilt, of self-loathing, of a truth she’d been too afraid to face.

Between the shudders of her breathing, she whispered. 

"I want to be free. Please… I want to be normal”

Neha’s voice was soft but unwavering. 

"Then that’s where we’ll start. This is where your true fight begins!"

                                                                                                                                                                                                        (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                          (CHAPTER CONTD)

The soft chime of the wall clock filled Dr. Neha Bharadwaj’s clinic, a serene place tucked in a quiet corner of Bandra. Sunlight filtered gently through the bamboo blinds, falling across the bookshelves lined with medical journals, psychology case studies, and a single vase of fresh lilies. It smelled faintly of coffee and eucalyptus — calm, clean, and safe. Sonarika sat on the cushioned chair facing Neha’s desk, her hands clasped together. She looked fragile but composed, the storm of the previous night replaced by an eerie quiet. Beside her sat Ragini, notebook in hand, her expression watchful but encouraging.


Neha looked up from her tablet, her voice even and warm. 

"Good morning, Sonarika. I know yesterday was a lot to take in. How are you feeling today?"

Sonarika managed a faint smile. 

"Like I finally saw the wreckage of my own devastation. I’m still scared, but… at least I know what I’m trying to salvage"

"That’s a good start" Neha said, leaning back slightly in her chair. 

"Awareness is the first victory"

She tapped her tablet and turned it toward Sonarika. 

"I’ve redesigned your daily routine. It might feel restrictive at first, but structure is what your brain needs most right now. You’ll wake at six every morning, take a light walk or some yoga, then have one hour of reading before breakfast. After that, focus on small chores or work that keeps you engaged but not overstimulated"

"Reading?" Sonarika asked with a weak chuckle. 

"It’s been years since I picked up a book"

"That’s exactly why it will help" Neha replied. 

"Reading creates mental rhythm, gives your thoughts direction. When your mind is restless, it looks for stimulation — in your case, that turns into compulsion. Reading will give it a safe place to rest"

Ragini smiled softly. 

"I can bring her a few books to start with. Something light, maybe some poetry or travel essays"

"Perfect" Neha nodded. 

"And in the evenings, try mindfulness exercises or journaling. Write down your thoughts — not to analyze them, but to release them. The more we reduce what you suppress, the weaker your impulses become"

Sonarika listened intently, almost afraid to interrupt.

Then Neha reached for a small white bottle on her desk. 

"This is your new prescription. It’s meant to repair the damaged neural pathways in your frontal cortex and stabilize your emotional processing. You may feel lightheaded for a few days, but that will pass"

Sonarika stared at the bottle. 

"So this is what will fix me?" she whispered.

Neha shook her head gently. 

"No, Sonarika. This will help you fix yourself. The medicine stabilizes the brain; it doesn’t heal the heart. That part, you have to do"

There was a pause. Neha’s tone grew firmer now, though still compassionate. 

"To truly heal, you’ll need to make some very hard choices. This includes a complete withdrawal from anything that fuels your condition — especially sexual activity of any kind. No intimacy, no indulgent thoughts, no temptation. You’ll need to retrain your body to find calm in silence, not stimulation"

The words struck Sonarika hard. For a long moment, she just sat still, her breath trembling. 

"So I have to stop… everything?"

"Yes" Neha said simply. 

"Your brain is wired to associate emotional pain with physical release. Until we break that link, every step forward will pull you two steps back. It won’t be easy, but it’s possible. And every day you resist is a day your mind learns control again"

Sonarika closed her eyes. Her hands shook slightly, but she nodded. 

"No more running, then. No more hiding behind excuses"

Ragini reached across the small table and gently touched her wrist. 

"You’re stronger than you think, Sonarika. You just need to remember that strength"

A tear slipped down Sonarika’s cheek, but this time, it wasn’t despair — it was relief. 

"For the first time… I think I actually believe that"

She wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing. 

"There’s something else I’ve been thinking about. Before all this… I was considering moving away from Mumbai. I thought it was just me running from my guilt, but now… it feels like I should. For everyone’s safety. For Karan, for Hemant, even for myself"

Neha and Ragini exchanged a quiet glance.

Ragini spoke first. 

"It’s not a bad idea. A change of environment could really help your recovery. New air, new rhythm — it can reset your system"

Neha nodded thoughtfully. 

"If you do, we’ll coordinate with a local therapist there to continue your sessions remotely. But take your time to decide. This time, you’re not escaping — you’re choosing peace"

Sonarika looked up, her expression soft but resolute. 

"Then maybe it’s time I finally choose peace"

Neha smiled — the first genuine smile of the session. 

"That’s the best decision you’ve made today"

Ragini stood and gently helped Sonarika up. 

"Come on, I’ll drop you home. You’ll start your new schedule tomorrow"

As they reached the door, Sonarika turned back to Neha, her voice low but filled with fragile hope. 

"Thank you… both of you. For not giving up on me"

Neha replied simply, 

"Healing isn’t about perfection, Sonarika. It’s about persistence. And I see that in you"

Sonarika stepped out into the late morning light — the city still loud, the streets still familiar — but for the first time in months, she didn’t feel trapped in it. The world felt a little wider, and her mind, a little quieter. And as she walked beside Ragini, she whispered almost to herself. 

"Maybe… this time, I’ll finally become the woman I am meant to be"


The first few days of her new schedule were the hardest. Sonarika woke before sunrise, often after a restless night of half-sleep and scattered thoughts. The silence of dawn made her feel exposed, the emptiness of her mind almost unbearable. But Neha’s voice echoed in her head — structure will save you. So, she forced herself to move. A small yoga mat in the living room became her first battleground against the chaos within. Her body trembled, her breath shallow, but every stretch, every slow inhale, every moment she resisted her mind’s darker urges — it was a small victory.


After her morning walk, she would sit by the window with a cup of tea and a book. At first, she struggled to focus. Words blurred; her mind wandered to forbidden places. But she kept at it, tracing each line with her finger, whispering them softly until they began to settle into her thoughts. By the end of the week, she could finish a few pages without drifting. Her days became a rhythm of quiet persistence. She made breakfast for Karan and Anjali, helped Karan with his homework, and sometimes watched him play in the living room, his laughter slowly softening her broken heart. But when she saw Hemant, her breath would falter. He spoke to her only when necessary — a cold politeness, a wall of indifference she knew she deserved.

One evening, when he returned from work, she tried to speak, just a small thank you for buying Karan’s art supplies. He didn’t even look at her. 

"Keep it" he said flatly, before disappearing into his room.

Sonarika didn’t follow. Not this time. She sat in silence, the ache in her chest deep but no longer unbearable. She told herself — you’re healing, not begging. By the second week, Neha had increased her reading hours. Sonarika visited a small Crosswords bookstore near Linking Road. It was a Sunday afternoon; the city buzzed outside, but inside, the store was quiet and cool. She walked between the aisles, tracing her fingers along the spines of books, unsure what she was looking for — until she stumbled upon a section marked 

'Nature and Botany'

She paused. There it was — a book titled The Secret Life of Plants. The glossy cover showed a single green sprout breaking through the soil, reaching for light. Something inside her stirred — a faint tug of memory, soft but deep. She picked up more: Flora of India, Gardens of the Mind, Botanical Sketching for Beginners. She didn’t even realize her hands were trembling. At the counter, as the clerk bagged her purchases, she smiled faintly — the first genuine smile she’d felt in weeks.


That night, sitting by her window, she opened The Secret Life of Plants. The scent of paper and ink filled the room, and with every page, her mind drifted backward — to her college days, before the accident, before everything changed. She saw herself in her green apron at Vrindavan Nursery, hands buried in soil, sunlight on her cheeks, laughter in her voice. She remembered the small greenhouse she loved to work in, how she would name her saplings, talk to them, whisper that they’d grow strong one day.

That place had been her sanctuary. Her balance. Her peace. She remembered telling Hemant about it once — in the early days of their marriage, when they still shared dreams like secrets.

"I always wanted to make my own garden someday" 

She had said, resting her head on his shoulder. And he, smiling softly, had replied. 

"Then when we build our own house, I’ll make a space for you. A space just for your garden and your flowers"

The memory made her eyes sting. That dream had withered — burned away in the wildness of her desires, in the chaos she mistook for love. But now, holding the book, she felt something shift. That same dream began to breathe again. Maybe it wasn’t lost forever. Maybe it had just been waiting for her to quiet down enough to hear it again. In the following days, she threw herself into this new rhythm. After Karan left for college, she’d read for hours — about ferns, mosses, seasonal growth patterns, the art of tending orchids. She began sketching small plant designs in her notebook, even planning out an imaginary garden layout.


She started watering the small plants in her balcony again — something she hadn’t done in months. The simple act of caring for something alive soothed her in ways she hadn’t expected. Ragini noticed the change when she visited. 

"You look… calmer" 

She said, setting down her purse. Sonarika smiled faintly, fingers tracing the edge of her book. 

"I’m learning to be myself again"

But even as her peace grew, she kept her distance from Hemant. Every time she saw him — sitting at the dining table, scrolling on his phone, or leaving for work — her heart ached. She wanted to tell him everything, to beg forgiveness, to show him the woman she was trying to become. But she knew it would only reopen wounds. He had every right to hate her. So she stayed silent. Respectful. Distant. She poured her love into Karan, into her books, into her healing. It was better this way. Safer.

Around the third week, she began to think practically again. The idea of leaving Mumbai still lingered. One evening, after her session with Neha, she opened her laptop and sent a few discreet messages to her TANISHQ  HR executives, asking about transfer options to Pune or Bangalore. They replied politely, promising to get back to her — and asking, gently, why she wanted to move. She didn’t answer. How could she? Some truths couldn’t be typed into an email.

Her days continued, slow and steady. Morning yoga. Reading. Journaling. Therapy. Sometimes she still woke with the ache of loneliness, sometimes the cravings returned like a whisper from the dark corners of her mind — but now, she didn’t act on them. She read. She breathed. She resisted.

Each small act of defiance felt like reclaiming a piece of herself.

One evening, she sat by her balcony, the city lights flickering below. Karan was asleep, Anjali was watching TV inside, and she was lost in her thoughts. On the small table beside her lay a few potted plants — freshly watered, their leaves glistening.

She smiled faintly. 

"You’re all I have right now" she whispered to them, brushing her fingers over the soil. 

"But maybe that’s enough"

The night air was cool, and for the first time in years, she felt something gentle — not passion, not pain — just peace. The first fragile sprout of a woman trying to grow again.


The following weeks unfolded with a calm rhythm Sonarika had never known before. Her mornings began with yoga and meditation; then she’d water her small balcony plants — her little green world — before preparing breakfast for Karan and Anjali. The soft rustle of leaves, the smell of wet soil, and the sunlight warming her skin grounded her. When she left for work, there was a steadiness in her steps — not the guilt-ridden hesitation of before. She arrived early, finished her tasks on time, even managed to help new interns at the Tanishq office without losing patience. Her colleagues noticed the change — a quiet discipline, a warmer tone, a faint but visible glow returning to her eyes.


Her evenings were reserved for reading. Books on botany and ecology filled her desk. Sometimes Karan would crawl beside her, drawing little plants in her notebook as she smiled and explained to him the difference between herbs and shrubs. Those moments became her small paradise — brief but pure. Even Hemant noticed the change — and it didn’t sit easily with him. At first, he thought it was an act. A way to show off her supposed 'healing' to earn sympathy or make him feel guilty. When she laughed softly with Karan, his heart twisted — not in love, but confusion and anger. How could she act so peaceful after everything she’d done How could she seem… okay? He avoided her even more, locking himself behind the invisible walls he’d built.

One night, he snapped when she greeted him at the door.

"Why are you pretending?" he asked coldly.She froze. 

"Pretending?"

"You think being cheerful will erase what you did? That acting normal will make me forget?" 

His voice was harsh but tired. Sonarika didn’t respond. She simply lowered her gaze and said, 

"I’m not pretending, Hemant. I’m just… trying to live"

That answer disarmed him, but he said nothing more. He went inside, leaving her in the doorway, eyes glistening — not from pain this time, but quiet acceptance.

A few days later, Ragini called.

"Come by my place after work" she said on the phone. 

"There’s something I want to discuss"

That evening, Sonarika arrived at Ragini’s apartment. The sunset bled orange through the window as Ragini handed her a cup of green tea.

"You look different" Ragini said with a small smile. 

"Lighter"

Sonarika chuckled softly. 

"Maybe I finally found something that keeps me steady — my plants, my books. It’s strange how much peace soil can give you"

Ragini nodded thoughtfully, setting her cup down. 

"You mentioned your time at that nursery — what was it called? Vrindavan?"

"Yes" Sonarika said, her eyes softening. 

"It was my favorite place. I worked there in my teenage days before… everything happened. It was peaceful. I thought someday I’d have my own garden, maybe teach people about plants"

There was something so pure in the way she said it — the kind of innocence that hadn’t been in her voice for years. That’s when something clicked in Ragini’s mind.

"Wait" Ragini said suddenly, leaning forward. 

"There’s something you might like"

Sonarika looked up curiously.


"In Goa — North of Vagator — there’s a private establishment called VATIKA Botanical Research and Development Center. It’s massive, like a glass-domed paradise. They produce high-quality vegetation, herbs, and extracts used for packaged food and medicine. It’s owned by a woman named Mrs. Sreelekha Naik — a remarkable person, a woman I look upto. Built the entire operation from scratch. I’ve met her twice during a business conference. She’s in her fifties, extremely sharp, very compassionate — and she’s currently looking for an Operations Manager for the center"

"An Operations Manager?" Sonarika repeated, surprised. Ragini nodded. 

"Yes. You’ve managed the corporate office of Tanishq — that experience counts. Plus, your knowledge of plants gives you an edge. I think you’d be perfect for it"

Sonarika blinked, stunned. 

"Goa sounds like another world, Ragini. I… I don’t know if I can do something like that. It’s not just a job change, it’s… everything"

"I know" Ragini said softly. 

"But maybe that’s the point. Maybe this is the kind of change you need"

There was silence for a while. The air between them was heavy but calm — the kind of quiet that carried meaning.

"I’ll think about it" Sonarika finally said.

"Good" Ragini replied, touching her hand gently. 

"You don’t need to decide tonight. Just… look into it. See what kind of place it is. You might be surprised"

That night, back in her apartment, Sonarika couldn’t sleep. The name Vatika echoed in her head like a whisper. After Karan and Anjali were asleep, she opened her laptop and searched:

'VATIKA Botanical Research and Development Center, North Vagator'

Dozens of images filled her screen — sprawling green domes, glass tunnels, lush gardens that looked like living cathedrals. Scientists and gardeners worked side by side in harmony. There were bioluminescent plants, hybrid crops, and even rare orchids cultivated in climate-controlled chambers. Her breath caught. It was everything she’d dreamed of — and more. She clicked through articles — one about Mrs. Sreelekha Naik, describing her journey from a small-town horticulturist to the head of one of India’s most advanced botanical facilities. Another article mentioned the Center’s initiatives in sustainable agriculture and eco-therapy programs for trauma survivors. Something deep within Sonarika stirred — not desire, not regret, but calling.

She leaned back, eyes glistening at the soft light of her laptop screen. Could this be it? The new beginning she’d been unknowingly preparing herself for?

She placed her palm over her heart, whispering quietly to herself —

"Maybe this is where I start again"

                                                                                                                                                                                                   (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                        (CHAPTER CONTD)

The following week, Ragini called Sonarika with a voice full of urgency.


"She’s here" Ragini said.

"Who?"

"Mrs. Sreelekha Naik. She’s in Mumbai for a short visit — attending a trade and environmental summit. I managed to get a small meeting slot for you tomorrow afternoon. Don’t waste this chance, Sona. She’s… not easy to impress"

That night, Sonarika barely slept. She stood before her wardrobe, flipping through her formal suits, finally choosing a simple beige one — clean, unpretentious, professional. She ironed it herself, the smell of hot fabric mixing with her nervous excitement. For the first time in years, she wasn’t dressing to impress a man or please anyone’s eye — she was dressing for herself. The next day, she met Ragini at the Hotel Orchid, where Mrs. Naik had set up a temporary office suite. Inside the room, Sreelekha Naik looked every bit the formidable woman she had read about — tall, dusky, elegant in a dark green silk saree. Her silver-streaked hair was tied in a low bun, and her sharp eyes missed nothing.

"Mrs. Naik" Ragini began politely, 

"This is Sonarika Kumar, who currently works as Chief Operations Manager for TANISHQ. The one I mentioned—"

"I know who she is" 

Sreelekha interrupted curtly, flipping through Sonarika’s file. 

"A C.O.M who handles Gold businesses applying for a role at a botanical research facility? That’s… bold"

Sonarika swallowed. 

"I understand the difference in industries, ma’am. But I also—"

"You think managing sales and profits is the same as managing research and growth environments?" 

Sreelekha cut her again. 

"You’ll be handling scientists, bioengineers, logistics, field research teams — not gold merchants and diamond cutters"

Ragini opened her mouth, but Sonarika gestured her not to.

"I know that, ma’am" she said quietly. 

"But I also know what it means to handle people — to understand processes, to manage under pressure. And more than that, I understand plants"

Sreelekha raised an eyebrow. 

"Do you?"

"Yes" Sonarika said, her voice steady now. 

"I spent three years at Vrindavan Nursery before I started my corporate life. I still remember the smell of the first monsoon soil there — the way each seedling bent to the rhythm of the rain. Plants have moods too, Mrs. Naik. They react to care, neglect, touch, even sound. They have their own system of communication — just like people. You don’t manage plants, you listen to them"

There was a pause. Sreelekha’s sharp gaze softened, just a little.

"That’s an interesting answer" she murmured. 

"Most candidates talk about production metrics and logistics. You talk like a botanist… or a poet"

"Maybe both" Sonarika said with a small smile. 

"I lost touch with that side of me. I’m trying to find it again"

Something in her tone — humble, truthful, without rehearsed charm — made Sreelekha close the file. She leaned back, studying her carefully.

"You’ve been through something, haven’t you?"

Sonarika didn’t flinch. 

"Yes, ma’am. And I’m not running from it anymore. I’m trying to rebuild myself — one honest day at a time"

For a long moment, silence filled the room. Then, for the first time, Sreelekha smiled.

"Good" she said simply. 

"I like people who don’t lie to themselves"

By the end of the meeting, Sreelekha told Ragini. 

"She’s raw, but she has grit. I’ll arrange for her to visit Vatika next week. Let her see if she can handle what we do before we talk about formalities"

Sonarika was stunned. 

"Thank you, ma’am. I promise I’ll—"

"Don’t promise" Sreelekha interrupted again, but this time with warmth. 

"Just show me"


That night at home, Sonarika gathered her family at the dinner table.

"I might have to go to Goa next week. It’s for work — just a short visit" She said softly

Karan’s face brightened instantly. 

"Goa? Can I come too, mumma? Please? I’ll behave!"

She smiled, brushing his hair. 

"It’s not a vacation, sweetheart. It’s an official visit. I have to meet some people, see some plants, and come back. I promise we’ll go together one day, okay?"

Karan sighed dramatically. 

"Okay…"

Then came Hemant’s voice, calm but cold. 

"Goa? With whom?"

"Alone" Sonarika replied, not looking up. 

"It’s related to a job opportunity. Ragini arranged the meeting"

The family cheered for her trip as she was in contempt seeing the happiness in Karan and Anjali's faces. But when she looked at Hemant , she knew he was thinking about something else. There was a slight sarcastic grin that only meant one thing. He was thinking her trip has something to do with Vikram. She turned, gathered the plates, and disappeared into the kitchen — silent tears mixing with the sound of running water.

Later that night, she laid out her luggage on the bed. She folded her clothes carefully — formal wear for the visit, casuals for the travel days.

That is when Hemant chimed in , beginning his mockery of her. 

"A job opportunity in Goa? How convenient. What’s next — a candlelight dinner with him on the beach?"

Hemant leaned back, his tone bitter. Sonarika froze.

"Vikram has nothing to do with this" she said, her voice trembling but controlled. 

"This is about my work"

Hemant gave a sarcastic laugh. 

"Work. Right. Do whatever you want, Sonarika. You’re free. Just…..make sure you take your pills unless you wanna get knocked up by him!"

His words cut deep — not because they were cruel, but because they carried pain. She wanted to scream, to defend herself, to tell him everything — the therapy, the diagnosis, the truth of her condition. But she didn’t. Instead, she looked at him quietly and said. 

"Believe whatever you like, Hemant. I know I’ve hurt you enough. I don’t want to fight anymore"

Hemant moved away and went to bed shutting off the lamp of his side. In the corner of her suitcase, she placed a soft blue scarf — a small token of comfort she always carried since her therapy began. Then, neatly folded on top, she placed the beige suit she intends to wear for her VATIKA visit.

The fabric smelled faintly of determination. Standing before her mirror, she whispered softly to her reflection —

"This time, I’m going not to escape, but to begin again"



The next morning, the dawn in Mumbai broke pale and cold. Sonarika stood by the doorway with her luggage packed — a single suitcase, one handbag, and her file folder. Hemant, leaning against the car parked outside, looked distant, his eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses. The drive to the airport was silent. The radio played softly, a low hum of some romantic ghazal that neither of them cared to change. Finally, as they reached the drop-off area, Hemant broke the silence.

"So" he said flatly. 

"Where’s Vikram? I thought he’d be coming to join you for this trip"

Sonarika turned her head slowly. 

"Hemant, please. This is not a leisure trip"

"So you admit the trips with him are leisure trips!"

"Enough , I am going to Goa for official work"

He gave a dry, sarcastic laugh. 

"Oh, of course. You’re going to Goa for official work. Right. With the same passion you used to go to Jabalpur and Bali, I suppose?"

She tightened her grip on her handbag, the knuckles whitening. 

"You can think whatever you want. I’m not explaining anymore"

He looked at her then, really looked — his jaw tight, his voice bitter but low.

"Well" he said. 

"Enjoy your… unofficial honeymoon. Hope you took my advice and took your pills. Because I don't want an Alimony situation in the future!"

The words landed like a slap. Sonarika stood still, blinking back the sting in her eyes. For a second, she wanted to shout — to remind him how much pain she had inflicted upon herself too, how broken she’d been. But instead, she just nodded quietly.

"I know you’re angry" she whispered. 

"And you have every right to be. Just… don’t say things you’ll regret later"

Hemant looked away, hands deep in his pockets.

"I stopped regretting things a long time ago" he said, turning toward the car.

She watched him leave, the taillights vanishing into the crowd of taxis and travelers. Then, pulling herself together, Sonarika walked into the terminal. Her heels echoed softly across the floor as the announcement board blinked with her flight number — Mumbai to Goa.

                                                                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                  (CHAPTER CONTD)

Hours later, the plane descended into Dabolim Airport, the morning sun spilling across the Goan coastline. The sight of the lush green fields and palm groves below stirred something nostalgic in her — something bittersweet.


At the arrival gate, a man in a neat uniform held a placard reading 'SONARIKA KUMAR – VATIKA BOTANICAL R&D CENTER', the VATIKA emblem shining beneath her name.

"Welcome, ma’am" The driver said politely. 

"Mrs. Naik has arranged your pickup. It’s about an hour’s drive north, near Vagator"

The vehicle glided through the Goan countryside — narrow roads flanked by endless greenery and sunlight filtering through canopies of banyan and palm. The air smelled of wet earth and salt. As the journey went on, her mind wandered — to her first trip here years ago, as a newlywed. She remembered the freedom, the laughter, and the raw energy between her and Hemant. How they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, lost in the intoxication of love. Their first outdoor passion, their whispered promises.


She remembers that day , when they became a bit adventurous. When they ended up in that lush green space which was abandoned and had the view of the Goan Horizon. They have put up a picnic sheet and was laying there enjoying the sun. But then one then led to another , and then their clothes were abandoned. And Sonarika was riding her man's dick right there in the open.


Her grip grew ever tighter with each powerful thrust, as Hemant drove his hips with relentless force. He continued to hammer away at her neatly trimmed young pussy, the place that was yet to concieve Karan, but in that moment and time it belonged to them and their expressive love, as Hemant slightly shifted his angle, driving deeper, harder, pushing Sonarika further.

"AHHH! MY Hemant!!!" she gasped.

Sonarika continued to ride Hemant, for everything she was worth, each time her body rose, he slammed her back down on his cock, as it pumped in and out of her. The soothing sound of the sea and the birds chirping was also overlapped with the wet sounds of their fucking. His cock, was slick and glistening, as he rammed his shaft into her love mound.

Her breath hitched, and she pressed her forehead to his, eyes squeezed shut. 

"Harder Hubby!!!!" she demanded, her voice a low growl. 

"I don't want to be able to walk tomorrow!!!!!"

Hemant complied, and changed positions. He planted her to a nearby try pumping her into the tree making it feel the tremors of their sex. His hips moved faster, each thrust more powerful than the last. The tree behind her shook with the force of their movements, her body pinned between it and him. In a way really showing what she always wanted in life now enveloping her. Her nails raked down his back, leaving stinging trails that only spurred Hemant on. She bit his lip, hard, drawing a wince from him. He retaliated by grabbing a handful of her hair, tugging her head back to expose her neck. Hemant kissed and bit the soft skin there, her moans growing louder, more insistent. Hemant set her down, spun her around, and bent her over one of its extended stem. She let out a surprised yelp, but pushed back against him, eager, willing.

Her hands reached out in front of her, grasping at the tree and its rough texture for leverage. He didn't give her a moment to adjust. Hemant gripped her hips, as he pulled her back onto him. The tree branches shook with each hard thrust, rusty leaves and dried fruits scattering to the ground. Sonarika's breath came in ragged gasps, her body arching to meet Hemant's.

"You like this Sona?" Hemant growled into her ear, his voice barely recognizable. 

"Like getting fucked like this?"

"Yes" Sonarika hissed, her head dropping low, hair spilling over her face. 

"Just like that."

Hemant could see Sonarika’s face in some moments, her eyes wild, lips parted in a silent scream. He reached up, grabbing a handful of her hair again, tugging her head back until she was looking up at him, his other hand grasping her hip with bruising force.

"Don't stop" she begged, her voice a raw whisper. 

"Please, don't stop"

Hemant didn't. He couldn't. Not even if he wanted to. He has found happiness after a long time. Her body was hot and tight around him, her hips slamming back against him with a force that matched his own thrusts.

Her moans grew louder, more desperate. Sonarika was tightening around him, her body trembling with anticipation. She was close, so close. Suddenly, Sonarika's body tensed, her back arching sharply as she let out a loud, desperate cry. Her inner muscles clamped down on her husband like a vice, pulsing and fluttering as she came hard, her orgasm crashing through her like a tidal wave.

But Hemant didn't stop. He couldn't. Not yet. He rode her through it. Something that clung to Sonarika until today. Sonarika could feel his own release coming, his body tensing with each thrust. 

"You want me to cum in you, Sona?" Hemant murmured. 

"You want to feel me let go inside you?"

She nodded vigorously.

"YES!! MY HEMANT!!! MAKE ME YOURS!!! MAKE ME YOUR WIFE!!!"

Hemant buried himself deep inside her and let go, his cock pulsing as he spilled into her, filling her completely.

"YESS HONEY!!! I FEEL YOU!!!! I AM YOURS!!! FOREVER YOURS!!!!"

That is when Sonarika woke up from her trance as she noticed her ride was still going through the views of Goa. She smiled faintly through the ache. Back then, she had mistaken passion for permanence. Now she saw the truth — that Hemant had given her more than moments of heat; he had once given her balance, an anchor she had foolishly broken.

After nearly an hour, the car turned into a long private road lined with thick hedges and tall fences. Ahead stood a large gate, guarded by a modern security outpost and a watchtower. The emblem of VATIKA gleamed on the iron gates — a leaf spiraling around a golden sun.

The driver presented his credentials. The gates opened with a mechanical hum.

As the car drove deeper inside, Sonarika’s breath caught. Acres upon acres of lush green stretched as far as she could see — fields of exotic vegetation, rows of medicinal herbs, massive irrigation lines glistening in the light. And beyond all that — a white dome, colossal and gleaming like a pearl against the horizon, with VATIKA emblazoned across it in towering green letters.

"This… this looks like a science fiction magnificience!" she whispered.

The car stopped before the dome’s main entrance — a futuristic complex of glass and metal, with scanning gates and biometric checkposts. Scientists and staff in green uniforms moved briskly about. Sonarika stepped out, adjusting her beige suit, clutching her file tightly. For a moment, the sheer magnitude of the place dwarfed her confidence.

Then Mrs. Naik appeared at the entrance — poised, calm, her expression unreadable.

"Welcome to Vatika" she said. 

"I hope you had a comfortable flight"

"Yes, ma’am" Sonarika replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

As they began the tour, moving through the corridors filled with hydroponic chambers, automated irrigation systems, and sealed biomes, Sonarika’s mind began to whirl. The environment was alien to her corporate world — high-tech, clinical, immense. Her confidence began to fray.

Sreelekha noticed the change instantly. 

"You seem quiet" she said without slowing her pace.

"I… I’m fine" Sonarika managed. But her hands trembled. Her breath grew shallow.

"Take a moment" Sreelekha said curtly, signaling toward a hallway. 

"There’s a washroom there"

Inside, Sonarika leaned against the marble sink, staring at her reflection. Her face looked pale, fragile, scared.

"Damn it, Sonarika" she hissed. 

"Get it together"

Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered. 

"You’re not weak… you’re not weak…"

That’s when a memory surfaced — Vikram’s voice, smooth and seductive, echoing in her mind:

"I’ll make you my queen, Sonarika. The queen of BajajCorp. My empire will bow to you"

For a moment, the old thrill of that promise shimmered… then died.

Another voice replaced it — Hemant’s, warm, grounded, and real:

"You’re already a queen in our home. But don’t be the kind that just sits on a throne looking pretty. Be the one who rules with me — who builds, protects, and leads"

The words hit her like light cutting through fog. Her trembling stopped. Her heartbeat steadied. She looked at her reflection again — the same woman, but no longer broken.

"A queen who rules" she murmured.

She straightened her shoulders, fixed her suit, wiped her tears, and walked out.When she rejoined Mrs. Naik, the older woman noticed the difference instantly. Sonarika’s eyes were sharp now, her posture firm, her voice calm as she began asking questions — about the irrigation ratios, the carbon-neutral energy sources, the hybrid species they were testing.

Sreelekha listened, hiding a faint smile. The timid girl from Mumbai had vanished; this woman stood like she belonged here. By the end of the tour, they stood before a vast window overlooking the domed greenhouse, the sunlight filtering through its glass panels like divine light.

"So" Sreelekha said, glancing sideways at her.

"Still overwhelmed?"

"No" Sonarika said, a soft smile forming. 

"Just realizing how big my responsibilities will be"

Sreelekha chuckled — a low, approving sound.

"Good. Then maybe you’re the kind of manager I’ve been looking for"


The following morning in Goa rose in a mist of gold and sea breeze. Sonarika stood by the glass window of her guest suite inside the VATIKA complex, watching the early workers tend to the open plantations beyond the dome. Rows of green stretched endlessly — pepper vines, medicinal shrubs, orchids, and rare hybrids shimmering with dew. It was nothing like the sterile offices she’d known. This place breathed.

After breakfast, a young assistant named Shaan guided her to the central dome.

"Mrs. Naik asked you to shadow a few of the heads today, ma’am" he said cheerfully. 

"You’ll see how the cycle of operations runs here"

And so began her long day — a journey that would change the rhythm of her life. In the Genetic Propagation Wing, she observed women in white coats tending to seedlings under calibrated UV lights. In another section, she saw enormous tanks where plants were grown in nutrient-rich water instead of soil. One of the researchers explained. 

"We’re developing algae-based oxygen recyclers for long-term sustainable environments. Every batch here supports forty-five rural labs across India"

Sonarika listened intently, taking notes, asking about cost structures, workforce coordination, and export logistics. Despite the heavy technical jargon, her management instincts sharpened with each passing hour. By afternoon, she was discussing cycle timetables and distribution logistics with the operations head, making quick mental calculations, adjusting timeframes, and even spotting potential efficiency flaws. Her old corporate mind — long buried under guilt and chaos — had reawakened. When Sreelekha Naik eventually joined her near one of the hydroponic aisles, she found Sonarika still deep in discussion with a group of scientists.

"Impressive" Naik said with a faint smile. 

"You’re learning faster than I expected"

"I’m only learning what’s worth learning" 

Sonarika replied, tucking her notepad under her arm. 

"And this place… it’s extraordinary. It feels alive"

Naik gestured toward the massive greenhouse. 

"That’s because everything here has a purpose — a reason for its existence. No one just survives at VATIKA. They grow"

By late afternoon, after nearly seven hours of walking, observing, and note-taking, Sonarika was led to a large corridor on the dome’s eastern side. It ended at a glass-paneled cabin overlooking the entire research dome — spacious, minimalist, with wooden floors and a panoramic view of the plantations below.

Sreelekha opened the door, motioning her in.

"This will be your cabin" she said. 

Sonarika stepped inside, quietly taking in the vastness of the room. The scent of sandalwood lingered in the air. A solid oak desk stood before the window, sleek and bare. On the wall hung a quote carved in brass:

'A gardener does not create life — she nurtures it until it finds its own light'

Sreelekha moved closer, her expression steady and serious.

"This seat will not give you much comfort. At VATIKA, comfort is scarce — responsibility is not"

She said, tapping the backrest of the leather chair. Sonarika smiled faintly, her voice calm and certain.

"That’s fine, Mrs. Naik. I’ve spent too long sitting comfortably, waiting for something to change. Maybe it’s time I earn my discomfort"

Sreelekha studied her for a long moment — the woman’s poise, the quiet strength in her eyes, the absence of arrogance but the presence of conviction. Then she nodded approvingly.

"You have something most people lose after their first failure" she said. 

"You still have drive. Purpose. And you’ve rediscovered it here. That’s rare"

Sonarika lowered her gaze slightly, humbled.

"I just want to be useful again" she said softly. 

"To feel that I can build something good… something real"

Naik smiled. 

"Then you already understand what VATIKA stands for"

They sat together by the window as the sun began to descend, painting the vast dome in amber and rose gold.

"I’ve arranged something for you" Naik continued. 

"There’s an old cottage house about half a kilometer from the main complex. We’re renovating it for staff quarters. It’s surrounded by a private garden and a small pond. It’ll be yours once the work is complete"

Sonarika’s eyes widened. 

"Mine?"

"Yes. Consider it your home. You’ll need peace after the kind of work we do here"

Sonarika felt her throat tighten — not with grief this time, but gratitude.

"Thank you, Mrs. Naik" she said quietly. 

"You have no idea how much this means to me"

Naik rose, extending her hand. 

"I do. Because I’ve been where you are. Broken, uncertain, but unwilling to stop. I built VATIKA from that same restlessness. So trust me when I say this — you’re the perfect choice for this place"

Sonarika stood, her eyes glistening with restrained emotion as she shook Naik’s hand.

"I won’t let you down" she said. 

"I’ll make sure VATIKA grows beyond what even you imagined"

Sreelekha’s smile turned into a look of quiet pride. 

"I like that answer. You can join after the summer vacations — as Operations Manager of VATIKA. By then, your cottage will be ready. Take this time to settle your commitments in Mumbai. The next time you return, it should be for good"

That evening, as the sun sank into the horizon and the plantations glowed under the fading light, a car waited at the dome’s entrance. Sreelekha personally walked Sonarika to it, her manner now warmer, almost maternal.

"You’ve done well today" she said. 

"I don’t say that often. Remember, Sonarika — a true gardener doesn’t fear the size of her field. She fears wasting its potential"

Sonarika smiled as she stepped into the car. 

"Then I’ll make sure every inch blooms"

The vehicle rolled away slowly, down the long private road lined with whispering leaves. She looked out at the vast green fields, the shimmering dome in the distance, and felt something awaken in her chest — something she hadn’t felt in years.

Not love.

Not passion.

But peace.

As the car disappeared down the Goan highway toward the airport, Sonarika whispered under her breath,

"This is my redemption.....not for anyone.....but myself"

                                                                                                                                                                                                                     (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                              (CHAPTER CONTD)

The Mumbai skyline shimmered in the distance as the cab dropped Sonarika off at her apartment. The orange glow of twilight burned faintly over the city, casting long, tired shadows on the glass towers. She carried her small suitcase, feeling the weight of the past few days pressing into her shoulders. Hemant stood near his vehicle at the parking, his arms crossed. His face looked carved from stone — unreadable, yet heavy with resentment. He didn’t move toward her, didn’t even offer to take her bag.


"Back already?" he asked dryly, as if she had returned from an errand, not a life-changing trip.

"Yes" she replied, keeping her tone calm. 

"Wasn't expecting you for a couple of days....did Vikram had any emergency?"

He gave a humorless smile. 

"Regardless , I hope he gave you a good time. Didn't he?"

She sighed, already exhausted from the conversation. 

"Hemant, please—"

He cut her off sharply. 

"Relax, Sonarika. You don't need to share. I've said it already , I have no interest in being a cuckold. You're free to fuck him anyway you want."

The venom was casual, quiet — the kind that didn’t need to shout. She looked at him, wanting to defend herself, but what was the point? Words were meaningless now.

When they reached the apartment, Karan came running to her.

"Mumma! You’re back!"

Sonarika dropped her bag and hugged him tightly. His small arms around her waist felt like the only thing pure left in her life.

"I missed you, baby" she whispered, burying her face in his hair.

Hemant stood behind them, watching. His face softened for a moment — then hardened again.
He smiled for Karan’s sake. 

"See, champ? Mumma came back with her fancy suitcase. Maybe she brought gifts?"

Sonarika forced a smile. 

"I did, sweetheart. They’re in my bag"

Anjali appeared from the hallway, folding laundry. 

"Finally home" she said cheerfully. 

"Karan’s been asking for you every night"

Hemant smirked. 

"Well, now he doesn’t have to. His mother’s back from her… official meetings"

"Bhaiya—" Anjali frowned.

"It’s fine" Sonarika interrupted quickly, keeping her tone neutral. 

"Your Bhaiya is actually more childish than his son!" Sonarika joked which made Hemant stop.

Later that night, after everyone had gone to sleep, she stood by the kitchen sink washing her cup. The light above flickered faintly. Hemant walked in, half-dressed in his nightshirt, leaning against the counter with that same look of quiet mockery.

"So" he began casually. 

"How was Goa?"

"It was… enlightening" she said.

"Enlightening?" he repeated, chuckling under his breath. 

"You always did find enlightenment in the strangest places — hotel rooms, beaches…"

"Stop it" she muttered, her voice trembling.

He ignored her. 

"Did Vikram made you do anal? I’m sure he must been a considerate lover in bed"

"Enough, Hemant!" she snapped, turning to face him.

He didn’t flinch. 

"What? I'm just wondering. You have that glow that you always have when you return from this 'Enlightening' trip. I've seen faces like this in the past remember? When you came from Jabalpur , from Bali. Only now I actually know the reason behind those smile"

Her lips quivered, but she refused to cry. 

"You’re right. I had a glow when I believed I was being sexually liberated. I don’t deny it. But now its........please… stop reminding me my failures every time I breathe"

He leaned closer, lowering his voice into a venomous whisper. 

"Then stop pretending like you’ve changed. I did the mistake of trusting and sharing my life with you. So drop this innocent damsel act , I can see through your bullshit!"

For a moment, silence filled the kitchen — thick, painful silence.

"You're wrong......this time you're wrong about me" she whispered.

"Is that so?" he said coldly, stepping back. 

"Then please , continue your drama. But I am not falling for your pretention ever again!"

He turned and walked away, leaving her frozen, trembling against the counter as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Days passed, and the strange new rhythm of their life settled in. Hemant played the perfect father in front of Karan and Anjali — cheerful, attentive, helpful with homework and dinners. But the moment they were alone, the mask slipped.

If she smiled, he sneered.

If she was quiet, he accused her of sulking.

If she spoke too kindly, he mocked her tone.

One morning, as she poured him tea before work, he said casually,

"Do me a favor, Sonarika — when you move to Goa, take that fake serenity with you. It’s exhausting watching you play saint"

She set his cup down quietly. 

"If it helps you hate me less, then fine"

He gave her a sharp smile. 

"Oh no, I don’t hate you. I admire you. Takes real talent to ruin a marriage and still look innocent doing it"

Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up her bag. 

"I’ll be late for work"

“Of course. Have a date with your boyfriend today? Don't let me spoil it , Bye!" 

He said mockingly, waving his hand. But as she left the apartment and stepped into the morning light, something inside her held steady. The barbs hurt, yes — but they no longer defined her. She had weathered worse storms, and this one, too, would pass.

At work, she immersed herself in her duties. Evenings were spent nurturing her plants, losing herself in the rhythm of watering, pruning, and caring — the quiet, grounding ritual that reminded her she could still grow, even in poisoned soil. Hemant’s cruelty was the thorn she had earned. Her peace — her quiet defiance — was the bloom she was nurturing against all odds.

And every night, as she read her botany books under the soft yellow light, she whispered to herself,


"He will move on , once I am gone. I’ll rebuild myself anyway — root by root"


The humid summer air hung thick over Mumbai, the kind that left everything sticky with memory. Sonarika sat at the dining table sorting through Karan’s clothes for their summer vacation trip, her movements slow but deliberate. Across the room, Hemant sat on the sofa, typing something on his laptop, the soft clicking of the keys filling the quiet. Karan was already excited — bouncing around the room with Anjali, talking about their train ride to Delhi. The family’s plan was set: Sonarika, Karan, and Anjali would spend the summer at her parents’ house in Delhi, while Hemant stayed behind in Mumbai to complete some 'business matters'

It felt practical — almost normal — except nothing about their lives was normal anymore.

Late that evening, as she folded Karan’s T-shirts into a small suitcase, Hemant called from the living room. 

"Sonarika, can you come here for a moment?"

She wiped her hands on her dupatta and approached cautiously. On the table before him lay a few official-looking documents — sale deeds, registry papers, a property transfer form.

"I need your signature here" he said plainly, tapping the bottom of one page. 

"Witness column"

She blinked, confused. 

"What is this for?"

"The sale deed of this flat" he said, his tone casual. 

"It’s done. The papers will be filed next week"

Her heart gave a small jolt. 

"You really are selling this place?"

He nodded, flipping another page. 

"Yes. I already told you before — the renovation at Silver Beach Villa is finally done. The contractor sent me the final clearance. It’s ready to move in. With the cashout next week after this filing is done , the rest of the pending money will be paid and the Silver Beach Villa will belong to me. In short , an upgrade"

For a second, the words didn’t register. Silver Beach Villa. The reality of a dream they once shared when life was still kind — a silent gift of Hemant to his family , a life they dreamed together. When Hemant’s mind was filled with the hopes of a big house in the future and their nights weren’t hollow.

He caught her silence and gave a crooked smile. 

"Don’t look so shocked. I am just glad you're not going to be a part of it. Let this be the final nail in the coffin of this circus called our marriage"

She hesitated, then managed a small smile. 

"I am sure Karan and Anjali will love it"

He leaned back, his tone sharpening like a knife being turned. 

"Yes, they will. So try not to ruin the surprise when you talk to them at Delhi. You’ve ruined enough already"

The words hit her like cold metal — quiet but heavy. She froze for a moment, then nodded softly. 

"I won’t say anything"

"Good" he said, gathering the papers again. 

"Let me handle this part. You just… do what you do best. Stay out of the way"

She said nothing. She’d learned silence was her only armor. That night, as she sat on the balcony, the sound of the city humming below her, she thought about the villa — how they had once dreamed of it together, back when life was full of promises and not regrets. A big home with open spaces, she remembered saying once, so Karan can play, and she can plant her little garden in the back.

It had been their shared dream. Now, it was just his.

And somehow, she felt proud. Proud that he had built it — without her, despite her. That he had evolved from the uncertain man she once knew into someone commanding and sure. Maybe that’s what healing looked like for him — success instead of forgiveness. She would not take that away.

Over the following nights, the uneasy rhythm between them continued. Hemant would speak little at dinner, his eyes mostly on Karan, his words clipped when directed at her. But after the dishes were done and everyone had gone to bed, he’d linger — half-tipsy on his late-night drink, pacing the living room like a restless ghost.

One night, when she was working on her notes and research papers at her desk, he appeared behind her with a smirk.

"You know" he said softly. 

"Whatever Vikram did to you in Goa — it must’ve been magical. You walk around glowing now, like some reformed saint"

She didn’t look up from her papers. 

"You can think whatever you like, Hemant. I’m not bothered anymore"

He laughed under his breath. 

"Of course you’re not. You have a new millionaire man now. Congratulations"

She turned slightly, her tone steady. 

"I’m doing what I should’ve done long ago — fixing myself"

"Fixing yourself" he repeated mockingly. 

"Maybe someday you’ll fix what you broke in me too"

And with that, he turned away, leaving her staring at the half-finished notes under the soft glow of her lamp.She didn’t cry. Not anymore. The tears had burned themselves out long ago. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                   (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                 (CHAPTER CONTD)

AT MEGHNA'S  APARTMENT



Things were really steamy at Meghna's place as the living room was decorated with the discarded clothes of both Disha and Meghna. They were gone on a nightpub together yesterday night and ended up here to a night of passion and pleasure. And that wasn't going to stop in the morning as Meghna was fucking Disha with a dildo in her bed!


Meghna wasn't in the mood for subtlety or slow sensuous fucking. She pulled out and rammed Disha's pussy again and then again and again. The dildo flew in and out of Disha's pussy. She filled the room with screams and expletives. Her pussy was leaking like a broken pipe, so she clearly was enjoying herself.

As Meghna thrust her hips into Disha, she could feel the dildo in her own pussy start to move. With each new thrust, the harness shifted slightly and pumped the dildo into her. The ridges harness pressed down hard against her clit every time it collided with Disha's ass as well. Her pussy soon was aching, the small shifting of the dildo doing just enough to excite her. Disha's eyes were closed and her head was lying on the table. Her hands squeezed her breasts tightly as her body was caught up in the throes of pleasure. She rammed the dildo into her again and again. Each time became easier as Disha's pussy spread more and became wetter.

Meghna reached her hand down and felt Disha's engorged clit. Her finger started frantically encircling it, making Disha moan even louder.

"Oh my fuck, that feels so fucking good! Keep fucking me Meghna!" 

Disha cried out, adding some extra emphasis to her work. Meghna had no plans of stopping. The faster and harder she fucked Disha, the more the dildo in her own pussy fucked her. The slow burn had turned into a fire, one that she couldn't stop. Pussy juices dripped out of her hole and onto the harness.

Her hand flew over Disha's clit, pressing down on it as much as she could. She began grinding her hips to meet every thrust of the dildo, pushing it even deeper into her gaping chasm. With her free hand, Meghna grabbed Disha's thigh to give herself some support. She made one final push, trying to fuck Disha into oblivion. The dildo pistoned out of her pussy, filling her up with the entire inch each time. Both her hand and her hips were a complete blur as Meghna worked to get Disha off.

The orgasm hit Disha. Her cries seemed to be cut off as she lost the ability to speak. Her whole body shook, her toes curled, and her pussy exploded over the dildo. All of her body was being stimulated, and she let out an extremely loud scream. Disha went limp on the bed as the climax took over her.

Meghna wasn't done though. She hadn't reached her own climax yet. She kept relentlessly fucking Disha, wrecking her pussy. The harness ground down against her clit and she was trying to nearly hump it. Her moans joined Disha's, although not nearly as loud. She whimpered on the table as her pussy became excited again. Disha seemed a little reluctant almost, still perhaps exhausted from her climax. Disha couldn't maintain that reluctance though. The fake cock spread open her wet pussy and swallowed up the entire length with each thrust of her hips. Disha reached down and found her own clit.

"AHHHHHHH that feels so fucking good" Disha said through a moan.

Her fingers circled continuously around her clit. Meghna's climax was so close. She thrust harder into her, trying to fuck herself more as well. Within a minute, Disha was hit by another orgasm. She gave a loud cry out and her pussy squirted onto the plastic dildo. Meghna kept mercilessly fucking Disha, not letting her orgasm subside. She was right about to hit her own. She jackhammered the cock repeatedly into Disha, letting it smack against her bouncy ass. Disha kept moaning.

"Oh, fuck, Meghna! You're gonna make me fucking cum again! Oh shit!"

Her pussy was extremely sensitive, and each climax was getting easier and easier to draw from her. The dildo rammed into her as her fingers continued to fly over her clit. Disha started shaking once more. Meghna bucked her hips into Disha, burying the cock as deep within her as she could. She kept it there, completely filling up her pussy, and bounced her hips up and down. The dildo slid back and forth in her pussy with her clit pressed down hard against the harness. She rode the dildo, feeling all the ridges rub against the tight wall of her pussy. Her moans quickly reached a peak.

And finally, she felt it arrive. She bit her lower lip in a fruitless effort to prevent herself from crying out as waves of pleasure swept through her body. Her legs nearly buckled, but she held herself up and rode out the orgasm. Disha climaxed at the same time that Meghna did. She ground her hips down onto the huge dildo buried inside of her, and rubbed her clit until they were howling in unison. Juice had begun to seep out of her sealed hole and down her butt to the bed below.

Disha lay on the bed in a heap riding out her fourth climax. Her big tits rose and fell while she kept a hand lightly pinching on a nipple. Once they recovered from their highs. Both got tangled in the sheets and took a short nap.

Some time later. The morning sunlight slipped lazily through the curtains, painting the rumpled sheets in gold. Meghna leaned against the headboard, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her coffee mug as Disha sprawled beside her, one leg tangled in the blanket. The faint hum of the city below mixed with their soft laughter — the kind that lingers when words aren’t really needed. Their eyes met often, smiling for no reason, both still wrapped in the warmth of the night that hadn’t quite ended.

Disha stretched, stealing a sip from Meghna’s cup, and teased, 

"Still think the pub was worth the cab fare?" 

Meghna chuckled, her gaze drifting over the tousled strands falling across Disha’s face. 

"The pub? Absolutely not. But the after-party?" 

Her voice softened, playful and tender all at once. The air between them was easy, familiar — as though they’d done this a hundred times before, last night been the one in many. When Disha finally rose to dress, the room felt suddenly larger, quieter. Meghna watched her from the bed, her heart beating with that peculiar calm that follows closeness — contentment with a trace of longing. At the door, Disha turned, leaned in, and pressed a slow kiss to Meghna’s lips, tasting of coffee and morning light. 

"Next weekend?" she whispered. 

Meghna smiled, brushing her thumb over Disha’s wrist. 

"Next weekend" 

And as the door clicked shut, the scent of her perfume lingered — a promise that this was only the beginning.


The sunlight streaming through the half-drawn curtains bathed Meghna’s living room in a warm amber hue. She was still lost in the tender afterglow of the night before and the morning after — Disha’s scent lingered on her skin, and her thoughts danced with stolen memories — when the sharp chime of the doorbell startled her. Wrapping her robe around her, she opened the door and froze. Sonarika stood there, serene and smiling, a soft breeze fluttering her hair. That calm, angelic smile — Meghna had always despised it. It masked too much grace, too much self-control. Meghna wanted to see that face crack, to see pain flicker where serenity lived. But not today, not yet.


Sonarika stepped in with quiet confidence, her eyes scanning the room like someone reacquainting herself with a memory she was ready to leave behind. 

"You look relaxed" 

She said gently, sitting down on the couch without waiting for an invitation. 

"Day off?" 

Meghna forced a smirk, feigning ease. 

"Yeah, I’m working on a feature story for MIRROR News. Needed a breather before I get back to it" 

Her tone was light, her posture calculatedly casual. But beneath that smooth surface, her heart was pulsing fast. She didn’t like unplanned visits, especially from Sonarika — not after all the strings she had been pulling behind her back. There was small talk — too much of it for Meghna’s liking. About the weather, about the café that just opened near Carter Road, about Disha’s recent visits and her relationship with Meghna. Meghna responded with mechanical interest, waiting for the real reason. When Sonarika finally exhaled and leaned back, her smile widened slightly — not with warmth, but finality. 

"I went to Goa last week" she began. Meghna tilted her head, curious. 

"Goa? For what?" 

"A job interview" Sonarika said. 

"VATIKA Botanical Research and Development Center. North Vagator. They offered me the Regional Manager position — comes with a cottage too" 

She paused, as if letting the words sink in. 

"I’ll be joining once summer vacation ends"

The room seemed to tighten around Meghna. She sat up straight, eyes darting, her pulse thudding in her throat. 

"You’re… moving?" she asked, her voice barely masking the edge. 

"Yes" Sonarika replied calmly, her fingers brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. 

"It’s time for something new" 

Meghna’s lips trembled into a forced laugh. This couldn’t be happening. Months of scheming — devious plans, poisoned relationships, planted doubts , even physical hurt — all to keep Sonarika in her orbit, under her quiet manipulation. Goa meant distance. Goa meant freedom. Goa meant losing control. Meghna tried to recover her composure, her tone laced with mock concern. 

"You’re running again, Sonarika. For what? To keep that loser of a husband happy?" 

The words dripped with venom and disgust. 

"Hemant was a terrible husband, he never was the right man for you. And now that you’ve finally found happiness in Vikram’s arms, you’re throwing it away?" 

Sonarika looked at her, eyes unflinching, the softness in them replaced by clarity — and something sharper. 

"We both know that’s not true, Meghna. Whatever I thought it was… it wasn’t love. It was a mistake. A betrayal,  cheating,  no matter how prettily you dress it, remains what it is"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Meghna’s eyes flickered, calculating, furious. 

"Who told you to take this job?" she demanded. 

"Whose bright idea was this?" 

Sonarika’s lips curved slightly. 

"Ragini. She helped me see things more clearly" 

That name — Ragini — hit like a slap. Meghna’s fingers clenched into fists beneath the table. Ragini had been a growing nuisance, a meddler in her carefully crafted web. Meghna had plans for her too — slow, precise, humiliating plans. But now, it might be too late.

"I’ll spend the summer months in Delhi with my family" 

Sonarika continued, standing up, her calm presence filling the space with quiet defiance. 

"Then I’ll move to Goa. We’ll keep in touch, of course — calls, messages, maybe even visits" 

She smiled politely, the kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes anymore. Meghna managed a brittle nod, lips twitching between rage and panic. 

"Of course" she said. 

"We’ll stay in touch" Her words were an echo, hollow and desperate.

When the door finally closed behind Sonarika, Meghna’s mask shattered. She screamed — a guttural sound of frustration and loss — and flung a vase across the room, shattering it into glittering shards. The air smelled of rage and perfume. Outside, Sonarika sat behind the wheel of her car, her hands steady. For the first time in years, she felt a strange, liberating peace. And at the same time , mystery and doubts clouded her mind. Meghna was present in her life ever since that accident , and now she has an inner feeling that all this time , she was there holding her in a leash. But now there was no leash.


The chains of Meghna’s influence were breaking — and Sonarika, at last, was free.

                                                                                                                                                                                                          (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                           (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT EVENING AT GALAXY APARTMENTS


Vikram’s heartbeat quickened the moment the doorbell rang. He opened the door with a rush of excitement, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Sonarika. She stood there, radiant yet distant, her vibrant smile flickering like a memory of what once was. For a second, Vikram forgot everything — her marriage, their arguments, the distance — and saw only the woman who had once set his soul ablaze. But as she stepped inside, her eyes lingered not on him, but on the wall behind him — a mosaic of framed photos capturing a year of reckless passion, stolen nights, and unguarded moments. Sonarika’s smile faded; those images no longer mirrored who she was.

She walked toward the couch, her steps measured, controlled. Vikram followed, sensing a subtle chill in her demeanor. 

"You’ve changed your hair" he said lightly, trying to bridge the silence. 

Sonarika sat down, folded her hands, and replied quietly 

"Vikram, we need to talk" 

The name — Vikram — struck him like a cold wind. She had never called him that before, not in private, not even in anger, for her he was always Vicky. He stared at her, confused and faintly unsettled, watching her eyes, so calm, so painfully resolved.

"I went to Goa last week" she began, her voice steady, almost formal. 

"There’s a new opportunity at VATIKA Botany’s R&D Center — regional manager position. I accepted it" 

Vikram blinked. 

"You’re moving to Goa? When?" 

"In two months....after summer vacations" she said simply. He laughed softly, nervously. 

"So that’s why you wanted to meet? To tell me you’re running away?" 

But she shook her head. 

"No, Vikram. I’m not running. I’m… healing" 

Her eyes softened, but her words cut deep. 

"I was diagnosed with a disorder. A very active Hypersexuality. My therapist traced it back to a head injury I had as a teenager. It… altered things in me. I didn’t know. I thought I was just passionate, full of life. But I was sick, Vikram. My desires weren’t love — they were symptoms"

Vikram’s brow furrowed. 

"Sick? Sonarika, don’t do this to yourself. What we had — what we still have — it wasn’t some… disorder. It was real" 

She shook her head gently. 

"No, Vikram. It might've felt real, I know. But it wasn’t me. It was the part of me that was broken, that kept feeding on touch, on pleasure, on escape. You gave that sickness everything it wanted, and I mistook that for affection" 

Her words trembled for a moment before regaining strength. 

"I was drowning, and I thought you were my air. But you were just another wave. Just like Rocky"

He stood abruptly, walking to the wall, pointing at the photos. 

"Look at these! You can’t tell me this was an illness. Look at your face, look at mine. That’s not pain — that’s love!" 

Sonarika rose too, walking to the wall beside him. For a long moment, she stared at the smiling, half-clothed reflections of herself — wild, breathless, lost. 

"No" she whispered. 

"I don’t see love anymore. I see a woman who was making wrong decisions one after another unaware of her own sickness. Every frame…. she’s trying to feel alive through something that was killing her spirit. That’s not who I am now"

Turning back to him, she took a slow breath. 

"You’re a good man, Vikram. You deserve someone who can love you completely — not someone who mistook you for her own unknown cravings. I can’t be that woman anymore. I’m not sick anymore" 

Her eyes shimmered, but her lips didn’t quiver. 

"For the first time in years, I feel… quiet inside. Free" 

Vikram’s voice cracked. 

"So that’s it? You just… end it like this? After everything?" 

She nodded softly. 

"Yes. Because I finally understand what love is — and this wasn’t it. Like I said before , we were both villains in Hemant's story. And now we don't have to live with that identity anymore. We can truly move on , find relief from this choices of errors."

She reached into her purse and pulled out the delicate bracelet — two small silver birds intertwined mid-flight. 

"You gave me this when you said we’d always fly together" she said, placing it in his palm. 

"But I think… I'll stay on the ground for now" 

His fingers clenched around it, his face folding in disbelief and grief. 

"Soni, please—" he whispered, but she had already turned toward the door.

At the threshold, she looked back once more — not with regret, but with gratitude. 

"Don't make this hard on yourself. Try to understand the mistakes we did and turn it into life lessons. I wish you love, real love, the kind that heals, not consumes.You will find the right person in your life Vikram. Unfortunately , its not me , it can never be me!" 

As she stepped out of Galaxy Apartments, the night air felt lighter, almost kind. The weight she had carried — of guilt, of craving, of confusion — lifted. For the first time, Sonarika didn’t feel broken. She felt whole. As Sonarika walked away , Vikram was completely stunned. His eyes were wet with tears as he sat on the living room looking up at the photos. Even though he saw her reasoning , he could not simply move on from her. She was imprinted in his heart now. He whispered in his mind.

"I am not giving up on us Soni. Not now , not ever!"


THE NEXT DAY


The mid-morning sun hung over the red domes of the Devi temple, its light glinting off the brass bells that swayed gently in the monsoon wind. Sonarika climbed the ancient stone steps beside her sister Anjali, each footstep echoing through the quiet courtyard. The smell of incense, sandalwood, and marigolds filled the air. This was the same temple that had once blessed Hemant with strength — the same sacred ground where Anjali had brought the Garuda ring that changed his destiny. But today, Sonarika wasn’t walking in prayer. She was walking through ashes. When she reached the sanctum, her body shivered. It wasn’t the wind — it was something else. A surge of energy ran through her veins, like the temple itself was humming with life, recognizing the storm inside her. The Devi idol glowed in a subtle flicker of gold as if watching her, measuring her. Sonarika closed her eyes, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to fall, but her heart was too heavy for restraint.


The Poojari, an elderly man with eyes deep as time itself, approached her with a knowing smile.

"Ah, the one who got corrupted returns to seek redemption" he said softly.

Sonarika folded her hands, forcing a smile. 

"I came to thank you, Swami… for the Garuda ring you gave Anjali. It changed Hemant’s life. Built his empire. His success began here.”

The poojari’s smile faded into a knowing calm. 

"Beti, you did not come here for his blessings. You came for your own redemption. The gods send no one to the temple without reason"

Her composure cracked. 

"I’ve wrecked everything, Swami. My marriage… my peace. And now—" her voice trembled. 

"The one I trusted most have now revealed to be my biggest nemesis. My best friend… she’s hurting me in ways I can’t even understand. I thought she was my sister in spirit. But now I see… I was her enemy all along for unknown reasons"

The poojari’s eyes gleamed with something between compassion and ancient fire. 

"Sometimes, daughter, revenge is not born in the moment—it ripens through lifetimes. Revenge can be as old as the soul itself. Perhaps you are not the source of this flame of vengeance"

He walked to the sanctum, retrieved a small red thread tied around a locket engraved with Goddess Durga, and held it out with both hands. 

"You have come to the right place, Sonarika. The Devi does not call those who seek comfort—she calls those chosen for war. Your perspective and resolve has been remoulded. Now your spirit must be forged"

Sonarika’s trembling fingers accepted the sacred thread. 

"And this will protect me?"

"It will guide you" the poojari said, his voice suddenly deeper, echoing off the temple walls. 

"Durga’s eyes will show you truth when lies surround you. Her fire will feed your will when hope abandons you. Your fury and your pain—those are not curses anymore. They are your weapons. Use them. Because now… you have nothing left to lose. That is when a woman becomes unstoppable"


The temple bells rang violently as she tied the thread around her neck. A sudden gust of wind swept through the sanctum, scattering petals, and Sonarika felt her body surge with raw strength. Her tears dried. Her heartbeat steadied. For the first time in months, she felt alive — fierce, untamed, reborn. The young girl who was once the student union leader in her college before the accident. The fierce side of her from her past merged with the new awakened one. The goddess within her had awoken. She rose, touched the poojari’s feet, and whispered. 

"I understand now. My redemption begins where my fear ends"

"Go" the poojari said, blessing her forehead. 

"Fight your battles with grace and elegence , you shall overcome your troubled times and finally will achieve peace. May Durga give you the strength to emerge victorious"

As Sonarika turned and walked away beside Anjali, her eyes blazed with new purpose. The woman who had entered broken was gone. What walked out was something elemental — a cosmic presence in human form, silent yet dangerous, ready to face whatever darkness awaited her. The poojari watched her silhouette fade down the temple steps, the wind tugging at his saffron robes. The divine calm on his face softened into sorrow. Under his breath, he murmured,


"I hope you find your peace Beti Sonarika........before your time in this mortal world ends!!!!"

And in the heart of the sanctum, the idol of Durga shimmered faintly. 

Proclaiming her battles have just begun , and her salvation will come.
 

                                                                                                                                                                             END OF CHAPTER 25

[Harry Jordan]

harry my bro you are just too good to be true, i am liking this story more chapter by chapters. can't write lengthy reply on what was i like and what would be better if this and that...... hahahah years end you know the rest.

but not the least the way you developed the sona and hemant man it just too good, the insecure hemant made me laugh just take this   clp); clp); clp); clp); clp); clp); yr): yr): yr): yr):

Short Comment :-


I love how SONA's peace disturbs him , I wish Sona should have notice this  , I was hoping Sona should have casually teased him , and telling him She still loves him no matter what , then Hemant cringe reaction on this . Hahahhahahah 

I am glad you guys liked it , this was honestly a great fun writing this dynamic. The Salty Hemant is just his vulnerable self voicing his pain and insecurities and Sonarika is basically falling in love with him again , this time as her real self , as she sees he was the only true man that supported her and loved her unconnditionally , neither Rocky , nor Vikram.

In a way , this is a love story reforged between them to see each other in new light and truly understand each other. Hemant is angry and venting it out on her with snarky remarks but he wishes she could give him importance as she gives to Vikram. But little does he knows that Hemant is the only important man in her heart right now because she finally sees both sides of Hemant and accepts him as her true savior willingly and unwillingly. Coming in the right time in her life and giving her the distraction she needed from her condition. Now her arc will be more about revenge and finding balance and justice while fighting her inner turmoil and bringing more clarity and sanity in herself. But the ominous words of the Temple Swami teases a future that is uncertain!

[Harry Jordan]

Excellent chapter filled with content that is extraordinarily woven with emotions and redemption. As I wished, Sonarika is carving out a path away from both men and seems to be the right direction.

Now that this episode is complete, give us the next over weekend or by next Wednesday :)

~RCF

Glad you liked it , it was one of my favorite parts to write regarding Sonarika even though I've saved two important scenes for later chapter which will develop her further. Now to answer the thoughts.

1. Sonarika is starting to have that reasonable doubt now that her mind is clear , she is starting to notice Meghna's close presence around her ever since the accident. So she has some suspicion which is why she feels something sinister happening with Meghna. This is the first stage of awareness of her realizing Meghna is not her friend , never was.


2. Hemant's actions are purely on his insecurities and his somewhat 'pettiness'. Deep down , he still loves her and her choosing Vikram still hurts him. So he likes to taunt and belittle her to vent out his frustrations , but deep down , he is basically wishing she returns to him as he doesn't wanna loose anyone anymore. He has lost a lot in his life and he doesn't want the same fate for Sonarika.

3. Anjali has doubts , and she and Karan's involvement in the story is to be that non erasable bond between Hemant and Sonarika. They are the reminder to them that what they had was special. In a way its showing them that this family is worth fighting for.

4. Sonarika is moving to Goa to achieve her inner peace and some sort of sanity. She is still not moving away from Karan. But she kind of has that fear with Vikram as Vikram overwhelms her and she often forgets her family when she is in that trance. Now , she is free from that  , so even in a distance she will still have Karan and bond with him in a more mature and motherly way. So her equation with Karan will further heighten her healing process and evolve her.

5. This is the point in story where Vikram's love for her turns from affection to obsession. Now its his turn to go nuts , he simply cannot live without her , so now he will leave no stones unturned to claim her back. And Meghna will find the next person she can control to torment Sonarika's life. She won't have the influence on Sonarika like before but Vikram , she can gain his trust and manipulate him to torment her further. In a way , we will see some negative shades in Vikram in the future.

6. Maybe , maybe not. The couple might be healing , but their troubles aren't done. Hemant's rise to power is only going to bring new challenges that one day will overwhelm. But when it comes to Sonarika , it depends , she is changing , she is reverting to a phase that made her something before that accident , her true potential will be brought out. And when that happens , can she see Hemant as her life partner? She already relates to him now , and in many ways she now believes Hemant was indeed her true savior as he willingly and unwillingly helped her even in her dark times. This is the phase where Sonarika truly sees Hemant and the love between them gains a more genuine and deep meaning. But can Hemant reciprocate her love? only time will tell.

7. That is true , no matter how many pussy he enjoys , how many women he pleasures. She is the one that binds his body and soul , he loves her no matter what. His smirks and jabs just indirectly means he is confessing his love for her , and now Sonarika in a way understands that.

8.That is being saved for a later chapter. Not to forget , Sonarika has never seen Hemant's workplace or his empire , so I am saving that conversation for that moment where she finally sees his empire and how much different he is now. To see her once hardworking down to earth Hemant who was mellowed out was now running a business empire that is slowly becoming a global phenomena. Where she will start to see HEmant was always the right man for her life. To make her see the mistakes she did to understand what he has become in his own might. But the question is , can she get him back? or does fate has a grim future for her?

Only Time Will Tell 

[Harry Jordan]

Please udate story sir

Expect the next chapter by weekend. As I stated before , I have erratic schedules which is why these delays will happen. I will try to do postings on weekends as readers are more comfortable in that timeframes but no guarantees. For now next chapter is coming this weekend 

[Harry Jordan]

Sorry guys , like I said unexpected delays will happen. And this time , Diwali is giving me very few time to polish the story. I don't want to compromise on the quality considering how everyone loved the last chapter so I want to make sure the next chapter doesn't fall short. There is still some polishing left but the chaos of Diwali is giving me a hard time to focus on writing. No Idea when I will post it but it will come in a few days. Most likely tomorrow unless Diwali irritates me with the noise again.

Next chapter too will feature some sex , and some will know who is involved in that sex scenes. But it will be more on world building as the next phase of the story will begin with the next chapter with our lead characters drifting apart in their solo journies. Uncharted Terrain Ahead! Caution for Hemant and Sonarika!

[Harry Jordan]

UPDATE

Sorry Readers for this terrible delay. Diwali was definitely quiet overwhelming. I had a hard time writing the story considering the chaos that was going on outside. I usually tend to write in a calm environment , something I never got the entire last week. Plus I need extra focus on writing the sex scene as I want it to be spicy , and the chaos of Diwali gave me a hard time with the story being done. So finally I got time to work on it and I will be posting the next chapter this weekend , I might post this on Friday night rather than Saturday so that readers can be quiet comfortable reading as there is reasonable blend of sex and action scenes this chapter. 

But I am also posting this update to share a very bizzare experience I had recently and I feel the need to share it with all as it is related to this story.

Due to the mayhem of Diwali , I barely had time to write , so I ended up watching some new releases in those chaos. And one particular film I was looking forward to is  "They Call Him OG" , as I might've already told all of you the Firestorm song inspired me to write that major action scene of Hemant/Michael saving Shraddha from those goons. So I finally saw the film , and I definitely enjoyed it for the most part , I mean Sujeeth as a director has some really cool skills to show his heroes as larger than life characters , and Pawan Kalyan's swag is pretty unique than other South Stars. And not to mention Thaman's music. I am very choosy in music , and for me when it comes to South films. Anirudh , Thaman , Jakes Bejoy and Ravi Basrur are my prime picks when it comes to Mass Masala Flicks and Action Films. Anirudh as you may already know I am a big fan of Lokesh Kanagaraj movies , but those other music directors , they have their own different styles , and I have to say kudos to Thaman , to me the best part of this OG film is his music and the way he has hyped each scene with such mass song , I mean , that Interval Block of OG with that heavy BGM , my god , even thinking about it now makes the hair in my hands stand!!!! 

Now coming to the bizzare part. As I was watching the movie , I saw the introduction sequence of Pawan Kalyan and I actually had an out of body experience. And the reason for that was that the scene played out exactly the same way I intended to introduce Michael King in the flashback portion for my story. Just like how OG comes to save Prakash Raj's Dadaji character , Michael King is introduced in a flashback in his prime when he saves Manush Rustom , his father figure type character in a marketplace at Baku , Azarbaijaan. The difference is that the movie version has a distinct style and showcase as OG is showcased as a Samurai and very Japanese Martial Art expert , while Michael King in my story is a blend of an ancient European Knight weilding a greatsword rather than a Katana. Seeing that scene really gave me a strange feeling as I felt my story was coming alive right in front of my eyes.

Anyways , because of that , I had to omit out that entire sequence from the story as it was too similar. I already had certain pivot ideas , and I already have chosen one that will make the story interesting. Another decision I made is I am not going to do a full on flashback sequence but rather show some snippets in each future chapters so that Michael King's story will be told parallely to the current timeline of the storyline. 

Now , an important part to look out to for this next chapter , is that I will be introducing a fresh character that will be a key player in the Part 1 of this saga. So brace yourself for the character's arrival.

And like I said before , unexpected delays might happen , but thankfully Diwali is over and peace has returned. So I will try not to bring any more delays in the future and try to post updates every weekend. Anyways hope you guys love the next chapter when it comes this weekend as it makes me feel really happy and a lot of gratitude that so many readers loved my story so far.

With Lots Of Love And A Belated Happy Diwali From Me

                       Your's Truly

             HARRY JORDAN 

[Harry Jordan]

Update

So Readers , Chapter 26 will be live tonight. I have some fun with this chapter , because I once again scratched on the "cuckold" dynamic here as well. Though our character is not a cuckold , the idea is quiet spicy. But the more I am interested is the introduction of a new character who will be a key player in part 1 of the story. So I hope you like the character because this will take the story to a kind of setting not many will expect. Most likely the chapter will be live by midnight , but I am pretty sure the chapter will be uploaded in about two hours after I checked and edited it thoroughly. Hope you all enjoy the read of the new chapter as the story makes its way to a cross road!!!

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                        CHAPTER 26

The soft hum of the ceiling fan mixed with the sound of Shraddha’s laughter. Tamanna twirled her daughter around the small living room, the weekend sunlight spilling through the balcony curtains. For the first time in weeks, their home felt light again. Shraddha had finally recovered from the nightmare of being kidnapped. The warm smell of pakodas filled the air. 


"You, madam, are getting extra bhajiya today" 

Tamanna teased, planting a kiss on her daughter’s forehead.


The moment shattered like glass. Engines growled outside. Tires screeched. The building trembled as a barrage of black SUVs stormed into the lobby. Through the window, Tamanna caught the sight of men in black suits spilling out like shadows. At their front walked a tall, broad-shouldered man in a tailored kurta with cold steel in his eyes — Amrit Bakshi Sengupta, brother of her deceased husband.


Amrit’s men had beaten the old watchman to the ground, one of them kicking his ribs mercilessly. Residents peered through cracked doors, whispering. No one dared step out. 

"Lock everything" Tamanna muttered to herself, slamming the bolt on her front door.

"Bhai, she’s on the fifth floor" 

A goon said, pulling out a steel rod. Amrit raised one hand. 

"No one touches the child" he growled. 

"She’s family. That woman, however…" His lips curled into a cruel smirk. 

"She needs to remember what royal blood demands"

The echo of thundering kicks shook the door. BANG! BANG! BANG! Shraddha screamed, clutching Tamanna’s arm. 

"Ma!" 

The door gave way on the fourth kick, crashing to the floor like a wounded beast. The scent of brute force filled the room as Amrit and five of his men stepped inside. Tamanna stumbled backward. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" she screamed. 

Amrit crushed the phone in her hand before she could dial. 

"We’re here for what’s ours" he said, shoving her down on the couch. 

His eyes slid to Shraddha. 

"My niece deserves marble floors and chandeliers, not this rat hole. And you…" 

His gaze crawled down Tamanna’s body. 

"…you’re still young enough to give our family more heirs"

Shraddha sobbed uncontrollably. Tamanna, trembling, spat back, 

"Over my dead body"

Amrit leaned closer, the scent of alcohol on his breath. 

"That can be arranged"

"I dare you to touch her"

The voice came from behind Amrit — low, steady, dangerous. The room’s air changed, like a storm gathering. Amrit turned, brows furrowing. There he was. Hemant Kumar, sleeves rolled up on a crimson denim shirt, eyes cold, jaw set like a blade. The light from the hallway haloed him as if the darkness feared to touch him. Tamanna’s breath hitched. Amrit sneered. 

"And who the hell are you?"

Hemant stepped forward, his boots thudding like hammers. 

"You're Amrit? Right?"

"Lucky guess , and you are?"

"I am the one who is going to reshape Amrit's face!"

"Big words" 

Amrit growled and lunged forward for a cheap punch — but Hemant moved like a ghost. One sidestep, and his boot slammed into Amrit’s chest. The don crashed onto the couch he had just claimed, coughing blood.

"Tammu" Hemant said, not taking his eyes off the men. 

"Take Shraddha to the bedroom. Lock the door. Don’t open till I say"

Tamanna clutched Shraddha and nodded, retreating. Her fingers shook on the doorknob as she locked herself inside, pressing Shraddha to her chest.

"Kill him!" Amrit screamed.

Four goons charged. Hemant didn’t flinch. Years of combat burned in his muscles — the infamous Michael King within him awakening. A fist came at him. He blocked, twisted the man’s arm, and slammed his face into the wall. Another swung a rod; Hemant ducked and kicked him into a table that shattered beneath the impact. Two more rushed together. Hemant leapt over the coffee table, grabbed one by the collar, headbutted him, then spun and elbowed the other in the throat. They collapsed like discarded trash. Amrit’s smugness vanished, replaced by disbelief.

"You picked the wrong house" 

Hemant muttered, cracking his neck. His men, dressed in black tactical wear, stormed in seconds later. 

"Clean this up" 

Hemant ordered. They restrained the wounded goons like they were nothing more than noisy furniture. 

"Boss, what about this one?" a man asked, pointing at Amrit.

"Make him remember whose city this is" Hemant said coldly.

When silence returned, Hemant walked to the bedroom door. He knocked gently. 

"Tammu. It’s me"

The lock clicked, and she opened it slowly. Her eyes widened at the wreckage — splintered wood, overturned furniture, groaning men being dragged out. She clutched Shraddha’s hand tighter. 

"Oh my god…"

Hemant took her trembling hand. 

"Breathe. I’ve got you both" His voice softened, a rare warmth breaking through the storm. 

"I have a place nearby. You can stay there. By the evening, this place will look brand new. With every broken things replaced with new ones. I assure you Tammu , you will not be bothered by any of them ever again!" 


Shraddha’s face lit up upon seeing him. She remembered the man who had saved her once before. Hemant carried her in one arm, guiding Tamanna out as they passed Amrit’s unconscious men. Outside, the SUV door opened, engines roared again — but this time, it was their escape, not their doom.


The day unfolded in quiet, golden light. In the company-owned apartment, Shraddha ran circles around the living room, still high on the thrill of rescue few hours ago. Tamanna watched from the doorway, her heart full. For the first time in weeks, her daughter’s laughter was unrestrained, pure. Hemant crouched down in front of her, holding up a pair of bright sneakers. 

"Princess, you ready to conquer the world today?"

Shraddha nodded eagerly. 

"Where are we going Uncle?" she chirped. 

Hemant winked. 

"Somewhere with slides taller than me, swings faster than airplanes, and candy that will make you forget every villain in the world"

Tamanna couldn’t help but smile. Seeing her daughter light up like that around him… it melted something deep inside her. A short drive later, they arrived at the play zone in Lower Parel — an explosion of colors, slides, and laughter. The moment Shraddha saw the huge play structure, she gasped as if she’d just seen a castle. Hemant knelt down beside her. 

"Well, Your Highness, shall we storm the fortress?"



Tamanna followed them with quiet amusement as Hemant — a man who could dismantle a group of armed men and goons in the morning — was now crawling through tunnels, pretending to be a dragon, and sliding down with Shraddha on his lap. Shraddha’s laughter was so loud it turned heads. He made every obstacle into an adventure, every turn into a moment of magic. On the bench nearby, Tamanna rested her chin on her palm, her eyes never leaving them. She hadn’t seen Shraddha this free since ever. In a way Hemant was giving her the fatherly love that she never got from Dev. Watching Hemant — a man with darkness and pain in his past — become a protector, a source of joy… it pulled her heart in ways she couldn’t deny anymore.


Hours passed in joy and sunlight. By the time they returned, the sky had turned soft orange. Tamanna slowed her steps as they reached her apartment building, a nervous flutter in her chest. She expected broken doors, splintered tables… reminders of violence. But when she unlocked the door, her breath caught. The entire place looked untouched — no cracks, no blood, no wreckage. A fresh door, polished furniture, even new curtains. It was as if the nightmare of the morning had never happened.

"Hemant…" she whispered.

He stepped in behind her, a small smile playing on his lips. 

"Told you. My people are fast" Shraddha squealed and ran to her room, spinning around in awe. 

"Ma! It’s all fixed!"

Dinner time came softly. Tamanna moved around the kitchen with practiced grace, but tonight it felt different. Hemant was there beside her — not as a guest, but as if he belonged. He rolled up his sleeves, chopping vegetables with military precision.

"You know" Tamanna said, laughing softly. 

"I’ve never seen a man this comfortable around coriander and frying pans"

He smirked. 

"Believe it or not , I always consider kitchen as my place of peace. Somewhere I can be easily distracted from my own problems. And some good food becomes the prime focus"

They sat at the table together, Shraddha between them, a small, glowing island of warmth. She kept feeding Hemant pieces of roti like it was some sacred game, and he played along with every dramatic bite. Tamanna’s heart filled with a strange ache — an ache that felt like home. After dinner, Shraddha yawned so wide it made Tamanna laugh. Hemant carried her to her room, gently tucking her under the blanket. 

"Goodnight, brave warrior" he whispered. 

She wrapped her tiny arms around his neck in a sleepy hug. Tamanna stood at the door, silently watching. She saw how Shraddha’s eyes softened around him — the same way hers did. When he returned to the living room, the night had grown quiet. Tamanna hesitated, then said softly, 

"Its already too late.....Why don't you stay?"

Hemant raised a brow. 

"Tammu…"

She looked at the floor for a moment, then back at him. 

"Just tonight. Please. I don’t…..want the house to feel empty again....plus I want you alongside me tonight!"

He didn’t need more convincing. He nodded slowly. 

"Okay"

Hemant then sent a message to Sonarika , not giving her any reason for not coming home. Honestly , he no longer cared. He was already fed up of her 'peace woman' drama which irked him a lot. And the less time he spend with her , the better. Or else he might end up starting to hate her.


Later, Tamanna and Hemant sat on the couch together, wrapped in a loose throw blanket. A movie flickered on the TV — something romantic and a little too sensual for the late hour. Tamanna’s hair brushed his shoulder as she leaned closer. He could feel her warmth, her heartbeat in the quiet room. The tension was no longer a stranger between them. On the screen, the leads kissed like the world had narrowed to two heartbeats. Tamanna felt Hemant’s gaze shift to her. She didn’t turn immediately; she didn’t need to. The air between them thickened, slow and electric.

"Is Shraddha asleep?" he asked quietly. Tamanna’s eyes flicked up to his. 

"I locked her door" she whispered. 

"She’s safe"

The last wall between them fell in that silence. Hemant’s fingers brushed hers, hesitant at first, then bolder. Tamanna leaned in, her breath catching. It wasn’t just desire — it was a sense of need, of safety she hadn’t felt in years, but more than that , the need to be physical with him ever since their affair began. She simply could not take her fantasies of him from her mind , he was everything she wanted right now. His lips met hers in a slow, heated kiss that melted the space between them. She arched closer, his arms wrapping around her waist as if she were the only thing holding him to this world.


"mmmm....wait" Tamanna whispered stopping him.

"What's wrong" Hemant asked.

"Its just that.....its not my safe days.....so we have to be careful" Tamanna revealed.

"Oh......good thing I bought these" Hemant revealed a packet of condoms from his pocket.

"When did you buy these?"

"At the mall when you were with Shraddha at the playstore , I had a feeling this will come in handy considering how you looked at me all day"

"You're so full of yourself!"

"Are you saying my assumption is wrong?"

"Well? Not entirely"

"I know about your feelings woman....and I definitely know what you need right now!"

Saying that he kissed her with an intensity that made her hard to breathe. She thanked her lucky stars to have him in her life right now. Tamanna quickly straddled Hemant's lap and would grind her cunt against his hardening cock. Their kisses grew in passion and heat. He put his hands under her night shorts and felt her ass through her panties. It felt just as good as he remembered from their first time. Tamanna removed her shirt and threw it aside presenting him with her pale perky and wonderful tits. He loved how her nipples would poke out like little erasers. Hemant latched his lips onto the left one. 

"MHMMM" 

Moaned the sexy bright woman as she grabbed his head pulling him onto her breast even harder. He moved over and began licking her other nipple. He rubbed her pussy through her damp panties. She was so horny she had soaked her panties. Hemant placed his hands on her ass and held on tight as he stood up. Tamanna wrapped her legs around him. They kissed as he carried her to the guest bedroom.

He threw her on the bed and climbed atop of her sexy body. They returned to kissing and touching each other's skin wherever they could. Hemant took his shirt off and threw it on the ground. Tamanna didn't waste a second before running her hands on his chest and strong back. He placed kisses all the way down her body stopping to taste her tits once more before continuing to his target. Hemant pulled down her pyjama shorts along with her sexy panty. He spread her legs and dove right into her muff. She tasted wonderfully to him as he used his tongue to explore the folds of her most private regions. Her juices were flowing as he sucked on her clit which was only demanding it at this point. His fingers found her opening and almost had a mind of their own as they penetrated Tamanna with the only intention of making her cum time and time again.

"Ahhhhh! Hemant!! Lick me! FUCK!!" 

Tamanna was going wild. Her moans were getting louder and she continued to pump her clit against his face. Hemant sucked it into his mouth and ran his tongue all over it like crazy, driving her even crazier. He reached up with his free hand and grabbed one of her tits. He pulled on the nipple and toyed with her while his fingers pumped in and out of her at record speed. 

"HEMANT!! I'm FUCKIN CUMMING!! AHHHHH!!!" 

She came hard her juices pumping out of her cunt and being picked up by his tongue as quickly as he could. Hemant continued licking her cunt well after she had finished cumming. Hemant stood up from the bed and removed the rest of his clothes. He then took one condom from his packet and wrapped it into his meaty erection as Tamanna looked at him with baited breaths.


Hemant wrapped himself up and lay on top of Tamanna. They kissed again as he felt her soft breast and hard nipples against his chest. She grabbed his condom covered cock and directed him to her hot pussy. She was just as tight and warm as the his last time with her. Hemant wrapped his arms around her as he started pumping his cock into her. 

"mhmmmh" 

She moaned feeling him in the depths of her. Their eyes met as their bodies continued to pound and meet one another. Her pussy felt like velvet for him. They stopped kissing and just held their foreheads together as he propped himself on his forearms allowing him to fuck her harder and to hit her g spot from a different angle. Tamanna locked her legs around his back and grabbed his ass with her hands pushing him deeper and harder into her. 

"Ahhh!! Ahh!!! Ahh!!! FUCK, FUCK FUCK!! HEM--.. AHHHHH"

Tamanna was really losing herself now as her orgasm continued to get closer. Hemant kneeled and grabbed her hips, he would drive her entire body down on his cock and her screams only got louder. He stared down at her incredible body. Her small pale and sweaty tits bouncing up and down, her soft legs and her tight stomach.

With a few more seconds of stimulation and deep thrustings that seemed to stretch on way longer, she gave a shake, tensing up as she held back her climax as it rushed up on her, sharp and intense, much like last time she was with him as she gave several hard, short thrusts upward to force him as deep in her as she could while her finger went mad on her man's muscly back , clawing it with appreciation for a job well done.

She wailed loudly as she hit her peak, suddenly erupting as she shook and collapsed down below him as the strength in her legs failed, feeling his cock deep as she shuddered violently, her hips bucking and shoving upwards, squeezing intently at his cock to make him throb as she quaked. Her fingers never stopped clawing, just cranking every last drop of her climax as her eyes squeezed shut and her breath caught in her throat, her orgasm just hitting her so much harder than she expected and making her grope him tighter and harder into the pleasure of it with everything she had. He just held her hips as she rocked below him, immensely turned on to see her come with his cock in her like this.

"AHHH HEMANT! I AM HERE!!!!" 

Tamanna mumbled, a small admission to how incredible it'd felt to reach her peak

"UGGHHHH TAMMU I AM CLOSE!!!!" 

Hemant screamed out. He could feel his orgasm getting crashing onto him like a wave. The cum was building up in his cock just ready to blow. He lay down on top of her and wrapped her up in his arms. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensations taking place around his cock. 

"FUCK!!" 

Hemant screamed as his cock finally exploded sending what felt like gallons into the condom. They looked at each other and smiled. Their lips met again as they kissed.

"Hope the condom survived!" Tamanna gasped between breaths.

"It did" 

Hemant said between deep breaths as he slowly separated from her , his cock moving out of her in slick way as Hemant meticulously removed the condom from his penis and  tied. He then threw it in the nearby dustbin as he laid on the bed more comfortably. Tamanna sighed as she giggling.

"What's so funny!" Hemant asked.

"Its nothing....nothing funny just......feeling surreal that the man I fancied gave me one of the best orgasms of my life.....its like when you put expectations to something.....and then you get so much more than that"

"Really.....honestly I feel greatful that you enjoyed.....though I feel you like what I do because you fancy me"

"Maybe.....but I have this....doubt.....I mean...its nothing..."

"What is it"

"Its personal.....you might feel hurt..."

"Believe me Tammu.....after what I did.....I am willing to face an army for that experience....so ask....I won't mind"

"Its.....Sonarika"

Hemant felt a little bit of regret when she said her name. Tamanna noticed the sadness in his face.

"I told you , you would be upset"

"No its ok. Ask away"

"Its just....why? why did she have the need of an affair when you are.....this good in bed!"

Hemant giggled as he responded.

"Lets just say I improved a little bit late , you do remember I was fat and slow not so long ago"

"Yeah I remember , still looked cute though"

"Then I turned my life around , but turns out it was too late when it came to Sonarika. Now she has a millionaire lover who warms her bed for her future"

"Maybe we should not talk about her. I think anything about her bothers you"

"Yeah , in a way , I am this close to hating her Tammu. I want to hate her , for the severe wound she has inflicted on me , but Karan , he is the reason I hold back my emotions regarding her"

"Karan can be your best  emotional support"

"He is , just seeing him laugh gives me enough strength to move forward in life....its just..."

"What?"

"Its her.....she is lately been acting all different......changing her lifestyles.....putting a more good woman act......."

"What if she is genuine about it?"

"No Tammu.....she is not at all genuine......I used to believe she was trying to heal herself......and she acted all scared and deflected my touches.....then the next moment she spread her legs for Vikram.......everything about her is an act now......even now she is trying to convince me she is changed but I know she will do the same thing again.......the next time she sees Vikram again she will strip herself and submit to him.......its her real nature now!"

"Okay....I think we've talked enough about Sonarika.....lets change the subject......"

"Okay..."

"BTW.....I hate the condom thing......honestly it feels so dissatisfying with a rubber wrapped around you........I missed the last time when you basically shot up my insides with your cock gun!"

"Heheh....cock gun?"

"Yeah.....its something only you can do.....your cumming is like a gun going off......and even though sometimes it hurts....the pleasure generated by that is universal!"

"Maybe next time.....I'll do without it!!"

"Hmm.....how about.....a little proposal"

"Proposal?"

"Yeah.....my Studio is doing a contemporary Ad shoot for a watch brand with a Bollywood actress......we're looking for a male model with it......and lately I've been thinking about you"

"Another photoshoot?"

"A bit of both....its both commercial and a shoot....we will be doing it at the Mariott Hotel.....I've booked the VIP suite for the shoot.....and ever since seeing your photos in that Bridal Magazine....I had an idea of how to make Hemant Kumar the rising business magnate more popular...."

"So you want me to do the shoot so that....it gives me more fame?"

"Yeah....something like that....alongwith"

"Alongwith with what my lady!"

"Heh.....like I said....its a full day shoot.....and Shraddha will be here been looked out by Chaitali for that night.......so I can have the mariott hotel suite all for myself.....and my special man!"

"Is that my reward for the photoshoot?"

"Oh yeah.....financially it won't be a big sum for you.....but that suite and that night.....it can be quiet rewarding"

"hmm.....I wonder.....how rewarding"

"Well first off.....no involvement of rubber......just skin on skin....fluid to fluid.....and.....something that will involve a bottle of lube......and a forbidden door!"

Hemant's eyes went wide as he looked at her with disbelief.

"Are you serious Tammu?"

Tamanna responded by opening the table drawer nearby and revealing the lube bottle. Hemant took it in his hand as he looked at her and the bottle astonished.

"You really wanna do that? Anal?"

"I do.....and I trust you will make my moment quiet memorable!"

"But why?"

"Well.....its...part of my fantasy.....I always desired to loose my virginity with you....but then Sanjana happened and my moment was ruined.....and Dev played it safe with me.....but now that I have you in my life right now....I feel the need to fullfill that fantasy......so I want you to take my anal virginity.....I want to feel that raw sexual thrill from it......to live out a part of me claimed by you......so that I will have no more regrets of ruined memories!"

"Wow...Tammu...I am glad you see me worthy but....are you sure about this?"

"Without a doubt.....I know it might be painfull......but the way your cock stretch my pussy lately.......I have this raw urge to see that big meat penetrate and reshape my asshole......."

"Tammu....it will hurt....you don't have to do this"

"I don't care if it hurts Hemant....and even if it does....then the Mariott Hotel Suite will hear me screaming your name........I need that moment Hemant.......and I know you want it too!"

"How"

"Because....I've been jerking your cock for the last minute and it only became hard when I said about my anal virginity!"

Hemant looked down and realized her hand was caressing his now rock hard meat.

"I hope your pocket didn't have just a single condom!!" Tamanna giggled.

Hemant responded by kissing her deeply as he got on top of her. He reached for the condom packet to wrap himself up knowing his work is not done for the night.

The night unraveled with whispered breaths and soft moans against the backdrop of the sounds the bed made. Their bodies fit together with a familiar ease, born not from recklessness but from trust and hunger long starved. Outside, the city kept its noise, but inside that little apartment — rebuilt from attraction into warmth — Tamanna and Hemant built something wordless, wild, and achingly real.


The first light of dawn had not yet slipped through the curtains, yet the quiet guest room already held a faint amber hue. Hemant slowly stirred, his body heavy with the delicious laziness that follows deep, dreamless sleep. The air was cool against his skin, carrying the faint scent of her — warm, feminine, familiar.


Then he felt it — the quiet weight beside him, the faint scent of her skin clinging to the sheets. Tamanna lay facing him, her body dbangd in the shirt he’d worn yesterday, its buttons half open, teasing more than they hid. Her hair spilled across the pillow like shadows. The sight hit him like a spark against dry air. Every memory of the night before came rushing back — her hands, her gasps, the way she had clung to him like she belonged nowhere else. Something deep within him stirred, sharp and undeniable. God, she was a vision.


His cock, already stiff with morning wood, throbbed almost painfully against his thigh, now fully awake and insistent. The urge to be inside her again was a primal, overwhelming need. He moved with a predator’s quiet grace, sliding his hand to the nightstand, his fingers finding the small foil packet. He sheathed himself quickly, the soft rustle of the wrapper sounding deafening in the silent room.


He shifted closer, spooning against her warm body, one arm dbanging over her waist. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, nuzzling deeper into the pillow. His heart hammered against his ribs. He guided his condom-sheathed length, the latex already slick with a drop of his own anticipation, to her entrance. So warm. Even in sleep, her body was ready for him. He rubbed the broad head of his cock over her slick folds, a slow, teasing circle that made her hips twitch.


A soft, sleepy sigh escaped her lips. That was all the invitation he needed.


In one swift, fluid motion, he pushed forward, burying his entire length inside her in a single, deep stroke.

"aaaahhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmggrrhhhh!"

Tamanna’s eyes flew open. A sharp, gasping moan was torn from her throat as her body seized, her back arching against his chest. 

"Ahhhh! Hemant!" 

Her voice was thick with sleep and sudden, intense sensation. Her inner walls, soft and pliant from sleep, clenched around him in shocked surprise, a hot, velvety fist gripping him tight. He stilled, letting her adjust, his own breath coming in ragged pants against her neck. 

"You’re… you’re harder than last night" she groaned, her voice a husky whisper laced with awe.

He nipped at her earlobe, his voice a low growl. 

"It’s all because of you. Waking up to this… to you like this… I couldn’t wait" 

He began to move, a slow, deliberate retreat before pushing back into her welcoming heat. 

"I need to feel you"

A low, throaty moan answered him, her hand coming up to grip the thigh he had hooked over hers. 

"Ahhhh.....Ahhhh....Yyeeeeesssss!" 


Her body was answering for her, melting back against him, her hips meeting his next thrust with a needy roll. The slow, rhythmic slide was exquisite torture. Each time he filled her completely, she could feel every inch of him, a delicious stretch that bordered on unbearable. He slipped his hand under the shirt, palming her breast, his thumb circling a taut nipple as he established a relentless, deep rhythm.


Soon, the slow grind wasn’t enough. A frantic energy took over. He rolled her onto her stomach, the red shirt was discarded, baring her entire back to his gaze. He mounted her, his knees anchoring him on either side of her thighs, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her up onto her knees to meet his thrusts.


The pace turned violent, animalistic. The headboard slammed against the wall with a steady, percussive beat. 


THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!


On the nearby table, a framed photo of herself and her daughter and a small vase shivered and danced with every powerful drive of his hips. Tamanna’s moans turned into sharp, breathy yelps, her face pressed into the mattress. Tears of overwhelming pleasure welled in her eyes, blotting the sheets beneath her. He was so deep. Each piston-like thrust nailed a spot within her that sent white-hot sparks shooting behind her eyelids. She could feel the raw power of him, the way his muscular abdomen slapped against her sweat-slicked skin, the way her own pale buttocks jiggled and reddened with the force of his possession.


She was hurtling toward her peak faster than she thought possible, the coil of pleasure in her core winding to a breaking point. Hemant watched, mesmerized, as the muscles in her back flexed, her skin shimmering with a fine sheen of sweat. God, the sight of her. Completely at his mercy, lost in the pleasure he was giving her. It was the most potent aphrodisiac.


"I’m… I’m cumming!" 

She cried out, her voice cracking as the orgasm detonated within her. Her inner muscles spasmed around him, a rippling, milking contraction that clamped down on his cock like a vice, threatening to pull the very essence from him.


That intense, choking grip was his undoing. With a guttural roar, he drove into her one final, searing time, burying himself to the hilt as his own release crashed over him. His vision whited out as his cock pulsed again and again, filling the condom with a hot, rushing torrent. He collapsed forward, his full weight pressing her into the mattress, his face buried in her hair, their bodies connected in the most intimate way possible as they rode out the shattering climax together.


For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the faint, residual tremor in their limbs. Slowly, carefully, he softened and slipped out of her. Tamanna groaned softly at the loss of fullness. He tied off the condom and tossed it into the bin with the others, the soft thud a final punctuation mark. He turned back to find her looking over her shoulder at him, her face flushed, her eyes still glistening with tears, her lips swollen. A slow, utterly overwhelmed smile spread across her face, radiant and genuine. Hemant’s heart squeezed. He leaned down, caressing her cheek, and captured her smile with a deep, languid kiss that tasted of sweat and salt and perfect, sated bliss.


"My god....the proposal of anal sex really tempted you Hemant!" Tamanna said hastily.

"No woman........you're just slowly becoming a drug that I am getting addicted to!!!"

Sometime later , they both got up and showered together. After dressing up , Hemant joined Tamanna in the kitchen.

"Btw , I forgot to ask who this.....actress is"

"Oh....its Kriti.....Kriti Sanon"

"Ohhhh....."

"What?"

"Nothing......she is Anjali's favorite actress"

"Great.....I can provide an autograph from her if you want"

"That would be great"

"Is she your favorite too?"

"Not exactly , I was grown in the glory of the evergreen ladies....Ms. Sanon is kind of our generation"

"True , I'll let you know once the photoshoot schedule is set. Expect it in a few weeks"

"Definitely looking forward to it"

"Are you looking forward for the photoshoot or what comes after?"

"Well , the photoshoot is an obligation for you and a surprise gift for Anjali. And what happens after is definitely something I truly need right now!"

"Really? That desperate"

"Not desperation.....gratitude. Knowing that there is someone here who wants to share intimate lives with me.....because lately , my masculinity is being targetted for my failures!"

Tamanna saw the change in his expression as she caressed his face.

"Hemant , listen. You need to stop blaming yourself for something you never did. I understand that heartbreak can be rough , sometimes life plays an unfair trick. Even now for me , I wished I never met Dev so that I can be fully committed to you. But I have to see the plus points in my life as Dev gave me Shraddha. Someday , maybe in the future , I wish I could see Karan and Shraddha as our children and we become one. Because believe me , having you as a husband is a boon not many are fortunate for. Sonarika fumbled with you and its her loss"

"Tammu"

"Please , don't bring yourself down. You are not a lesser man. I am your assurance for that , because you've made me feel things I've never felt in life. Every moment I've spent with you , I've regretted even considering a physical relationship with Sandeep. Sometimes I wished you were there on that voyage of love , I would've screamed your name in that entire boat!"

"Heh....scream my name?"

"Yeah why not. You seem to be thinking of yourself being a very basic man Hemant. But believe me , you're not"

"Is that so?"

"Exactly so. You see , back in college , when I was your secret voyeur , I heard the way Sanju moaned and screamed being with you. Those things built some expectation in me. And then when we did it , those expectations were way low than I thought. Now I think Sanju should've screamed louder"

"You're a little freaky Tammu"

"You haven't seen my freakiness yet. I ll show you on the night at the Mariott. When you will claim my anal virginity!"

"Damn Tammu"

"You see Hemant. This morning , when you did it. As I was laying there on my stomach , feeling all of your weight as you thrusted deep in me. It felt great , made me imagine how it will be on my forbidden door. To hear the sound and feel your hips hitting my ass. It was an out of body experience for me. I really hated the condoms since last night. But I am happy and glad that you were concerned about me and our safety"

"I am glad too Tammu. Because right now , even though there is a lot of people around me. I feel sometimes very lonely. You're the one person that etches that loneliness away. And believe me , I too have thought about it. To give our relationship some meaning. But I am overwhelmed a lot right now. My faith in love is heavily shattered. But if Sona didn't exist , you would've made an incredible wife for me"

"And you an incredible husband if Dev didn't exist. But we are what we are now , and we have each other for now"

"For now"

Both spend some time with each other after which it was time for Hemant to leave for his company commitments. As they separated that morning , both of them were looking forward for their special day they've planned for the future that involved a Mariotte Hotel Suite. 

                                                                                                                                                                                   (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                            (CHAPTER CONTD)

FEW HOURS LATER AT AIROLI




The deep growl of the BMW E39 M5 sliced through the Airoli morning like a knife through silk. Its race-green paint shimmered under the sun, the golden eagle crest glinting on the hood. Raquel, in a crisp black suit, parked the car with militant precision and slipped out to open the back door. Hemant Kumar stepped out—not in a stiff boardroom suit but in a dark green buttoned vest over a rich emerald shirt, blazer-cut pants hugging his tall frame, Italian leather gleaming underfoot. He didn’t need a tie. His very walk was authority.



The guards at the glass entrance of RegalCorp straightened unconsciously as Hemant strode past. The receptionist—a young woman with sharp eyeliner and sharper instincts—flushed slightly when he leaned in, lowered his voice, and said. 

"You’ve got the warmest smile in this entire icebox. Dangerous asset" 

She laughed, flustered, as he signed in. The way he owned the space made the polished marble floors seem like his personal runway. Raquel remained outside, scanning the perimeter like a hawk—hand resting casually on the steering wheel but eyes moving constantly. Inside, Hemant pushed through the tall doors of the next floor boardroom. Siddharth Mehta was already standing at the head of the table, sleeves rolled, arrogance woven into every line of his posture. 

"Well" Siddharth said, forcing a smile. 

"Not many walk into my office without an appointment. But you seem to have a flair for breaking patterns"


Hemant smiled—slow, deliberate. 

"Patterns are useful. Until they’re predictable" 

He replied, pulling out the chair opposite Siddharth without waiting to be offered. He sat with a lazy, predatory grace. Siddharth took a second longer than he should have to recover, then chuckled. 

"Congratulations, Hemant. First shipment of Alignment Knots exceeded expectations. RegalCorp is ready for more"

"I appreciate that" Hemant said, folding his hands. 

"But I’m not here just to talk knots. YOD Industries is expanding—security equipment, vaults, high-grade safes. We’re starting operations at a newly acquired warehouse across town" 

Siddharth’s brow furrowed. 

"That warehouse belonged to Dilawar" he said flatly. 

"A dead man’s empire doesn’t simply change hands"

Hemant leaned forward, his voice silk over steel. 

"Oh, but it does when his entire estate was… let’s say… made available to the right bidder. And when the bidder happens to know which Mehta puppet signed off Dilawar’s corporator routes, it’s an easy game" 

Siddharth’s smile faltered. The air tightened. 

"Careful" Siddharth said softly 

"You’re walking a dangerous line" Hemant didn’t blink. 

"I know exactly where the line is. That’s why I’m standing on it"

"I’m not here to compete with you" 

Hemant continued, adjusting his cuff. 

"I’m offering an alliance. Dilawar was a liability. I can be an asset. My networks are disciplined. Clean. Profitable. You and your family want control of this city’s spine? I’ll help you build the nerves around it" 

Siddharth tilted his head, studying him, and then smirked. 

"I heard you bought a private hangar at the new Navi Mumbai Airport. Quite a move for a man who pretends to be just a manufacturer"

"That hangar is for ANVIL" Hemant said calmly. 

"They want secure infrastructure. I provide security to my allies. Family isn’t just blood, Siddharth—it’s who stands with you when everyone else runs. Work with me, and you’ll never have to look over your shoulder again" 

Siddharth chuckled, but it lacked the earlier bite. 

"I’ve only tolerated this sudden rise of yours because of my sister. Pranitha seems… lighter when you’re around. If this ‘friendship’ turns into something more, I’ll be the first to know"

Hemant’s jaw tightened briefly but his eyes stayed warm. 

"Pranitha’s a remarkable woman. I respect her. Whatever path our friendship takes—it’ll be with honor" 

He rose then, slow and controlled. 

"Let this be the beginning of something meaningful. RegalCorp gets cleaner channels, my network gets scale. And if we succeed together, Siddharth…..you can play its king , while I'll be your best advisor"

Siddharth stood too, mirroring the motion almost instinctively. They shook hands, grip firm—two predators sizing each other up while pretending to dance. As Hemant walked out, his footfalls echoed like war drums. Siddharth’s confident smirk dimmed into suspicion. 

'He’s either the best ally I’ll ever have… or the storm that’ll tear this empire apart' 

Siddharth thought. Outside, Raquel revved the M5’s engine. Hemant slipped into the back seat, gaze cold and calculating. The trap had been set—not with threats, but with promises.



A WEEK LATER AT SEWRI



The air at Sewri carried a faint tang of salt, diesel, and fresh paint. Hemant Kumar stepped out of his black SUV, the low hum of its engine dying as his polished shoes touched the concrete. The massive warehouse loomed ahead — once the fortress of Dilawar, a man whose empire had bled the city for years. Now, the metal shutters bore a new emblem: YOD Industries — clean, cold, and authoritative. Hemant walked forward, hands tucked in his coat pockets, a storm calm behind his eyes. Dilawar’s ghost won’t haunt this place anymore, he thought. This belongs to me now.


Inside, the warehouse smelled of steel and ambition. Rows of machines stood idle, freshly installed, gleaming beneath bright halogens. Engineers and security heads straightened the moment they saw him. 

"Sir" one of them greeted. 

"The final shipment of vault alloys is coming tomorrow morning. YOD Security Systems is ready for launch"

Hemant nodded, his voice steady. 

"Good. I want this place functional in less than a week. Dilawar ran contraband through these walls. We’ll run security and technology"

A faint smile crept at the corner of his lips — not of joy, but of power reclaimed.


As they walked deeper into the facility, his lieutenant, Raquel, lowered his tone. 

"Bhaijaan… feels strange seeing this place like this. This place here…"

Hemant cut him off. 

"This place was once blood and bullets. This time, it’s business" 

His gaze hardened as memories flickered — the night Michael King ignited Dilawar's empire down in cold precision, erasing a monster from Mumbai’s underbelly. Michael King lays dormant inside him. Hemant Kumar builds, not destroys. In the center of the warehouse, a sleek black podium held the prototype of the new YOD security lock — a piece of engineering genius modeled from the same tech behind the Alignment Knots that made YOD Industries legendary. He ran a hand across its smooth surface. 

"This" Hemant said to his team, 

"Is the spine of a safer future. If we control the locks, we control the doors to power"

Raquel whistled softly. 

"And to think this was once where they used to cook illegal contraband"

Hemant didn’t answer. But his silence was louder than any boast. A convoy of two black sedans entered the compound. Out stepped a well-dressed government liaison, flanked by security. 

"Mr. Kumar" the man extended a hand. 

"The Home Ministry approves your expansion into defense-grade security equipment. Mumbai could use companies like yours"

Hemant shook his hand with quiet dominance. 

"We don’t just make equipment, Mr. Menon. We build trust. And trust is more expensive than gold"

The man chuckled nervously. Beneath that charm, everyone knew — no one crossed Hemant Kumar and slept soundly. As the meeting concluded, Hemant lingered alone in the shadows of the warehouse, looking at the spot where Dilawar had once chained people to steel columns. The echoes of his old self — the ruthless Michael King — stirred faintly in the corners of his mind. 


Later that afternoon, Hemant drove toward Navi Mumbai International Airport. The private hangar he’d leased was buzzing with movement. Engineers from YOD and operatives from ANVIL were clustered around a massive drone frame — sleek, predatory, and designed for the skies. This wasn’t just business. This was strategy.

Roy Harper was already there, wearing that infuriatingly casual smirk. 

"Damn, Egghead. Every time I see you now, you’re building your own empire"

Hemant smirked back. 

"Empires keep the wolves at bay, Roy"


They walked toward the drone, its alloy skin catching the afternoon light. 

"So this is it" Roy said, tapping the side. 

"A high-altitude, multi-purpose surveillance bird. Looks like something out of a war movie"

Hemant folded his arms. 

"Not war. Control. This drone will watch places where men like Dilawar hid. Where law doesn’t reach. Where we will reach"

Roy gave him a knowing look. 

"That’s Michael talking, not Mr.Kumar"

For a second, the silence was sharp. Then Hemant exhaled slowly. 

"Michael’s buried beneath me. I have evolved him to be my ultimate weapon. And I’ll use his fire to build my empire"


Inside the hangar office, maps of coastal and border zones spread across the table. Roy poured them both coffee. 

"You really have turned your life around" he said, half-proud, half-stunned. 

"YOD Industries was already a giant. Now YOD Security Systems? You’re rewriting the game"

Hemant leaned back. 

"This is just the beginning. Michael King had the tagline of the underworld embedded to him , but Hemant Kumar isn't. Gangsters , Vigilantes , they're all relics of the past…" 

His voice dropped to steel. 

"…But this corporate life , this is the new norm. Besides , it gives a nice cover , because Corporates are the new kingdoms , the CEO's and Owners the new Kings , and I intend to build a legacy where I can be my best self and benefit others....and settle old scores"


Roy’s grin softened into something loyal. 

"You’re going after them, aren’t you? The old guard. The ones left after you left Azerbaijaan"

Hemant met his gaze without flinching. 

"I believed that when I walked away , I was finding a new path. But I let my loved ones's death lay meaningless. I have to avenge them Roy , and for that , I have to erase that bloodline for good!"

Roy leaned in. 

"Everytime you waged a war , the world felt its wrath one way or another. Whatever storm you’re going to create next, you know ANVIL’s got your back. You point, we move"

A rare warmth flickered in Hemant’s chest. 

"My faith in people is still intact Roy , That’s why I am backing ANVIL , so that there is a better order of justice!!"


Outside, the hangar buzzed with activity — a symphony of ambition. As Hemant stepped out, the wind from the runway hit his face, crisp and grounding. In few weeks ,  Sonarika would be leaving to Delhi with Karan and Anjali and then move away to Goa on her new workplace after returning Karan and Anjali back to him, she will never witness his dream house , she will be out of his life, out of their broken promises. But he will still have Karan. He will still have Anjali. He would still have something worth living for. And now, he had an empire to build.


Roy joined him at the doorway, looking at the skyline. 

"What now?"

Hemant smirked, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. 

"Now we build. And we plan out our tactics!"

Roy laughed. 

"God help whoever stands in your way"

Hemant’s eyes hardened like obsidian. 

"God won’t help them. Because God has awakened me to punish them!!"

The engines roared somewhere in the background. For the first time in years, Hemant Kumar didn’t feel like a ghost of Michael King. He felt like the storm itself.


THAT EVENING AT ANDHERI


The evening sun melted over Andheri’s Silver Beach as Hemant Kumar’s vehicle rolled to a stop before his new home — Silver Beach Villa. The villa stood immaculate against the orange horizon, a sculpture of glass, steel, and sorrow. What was meant to be a symbol of his family’s new beginning had now become a monument to everything he’d lost. His dream home was finally complete… and yet, it felt like a tomb. He walked through the marble foyer in silence. The faint echo of his footsteps filled the air, every tap of his shoe reminding him how empty the space was. This was supposed to be their home — his, Sonarika's, and Karan's and Anjali's — a refuge from the chaos of life. Now, it was nothing but a shrine to a marriage that had bled out long before the walls were painted.


Hemant let his fingers trail along the polished wooden railing of the staircase. 

"You got your dream house, Hemant" he whispered bitterly. 

"Shame it’s haunted by someone still alive"


He moved into the living room — vast, open, and facing the sea. The sound of the waves whispered against the glass panels, like distant laughter mocking him. He sat on the couch, staring into the horizon where the sun disappeared into the Arabian Sea. This was supposed to be their view. Now it belonged to him alone. He exhaled, shutting his eyes, letting the silence wrap around him like a cruel embrace. For a moment, he almost drifted into peace.

"Hemant"

His head snapped up. The voice, so familiar, so loved, so resented, echoed in the emptiness. And then she was there. Sonarika. Standing before him, ethereal and devastatingly real. But it was her attire that stole the air from his lungs—the deep red wedding saree, the gold zariwork glinting in the afternoon light. The same one she’d worn when she vowed to be his forever. But her smile was different. Not the joyful beam from their wedding day, but something softer, sadder.


"I’m sorry for hurting you, Hemant" 

She said, her voice a whisper that seemed to come from the walls themselves. 

"But with Vikram… I felt awake. I felt complete in a way I never did with you"

The front door, which he’d locked behind him, swung open silently. Vikram strode in, dressed in a sleek black silk shirt and chinos, a picture of casual arrogance. His warm gaze swept past Hemant as if he were part of the furniture, landing solely on Sonarika. Hemant’s skin crawled. Vikram stepped close to her, too close, and with a tenderness that felt like violence, he swept his thumb across her forehead. The vermillion, the symbol of her marital status, of being his wife, was smeared away. Sonarika’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated relief. She was being unmade as his.

She turned her tear-filled eyes to Hemant, but they were tears of joy. 

"I’m finally free from your life. I’m ready to be his woman" 

Her hands flew to her neck, grasping the sacred mangalsutra. With a sharp, definitive tug, the black beads and gold pendant snapped. She threw the symbol of their union, and it hit him square in the face.

The world dissolved.

The cool Mumbai sea breeze vanished, replaced by a humid, salty air. The minimalist living room morphed into a sun-drenched bedroom with a familiar Goan vista. Her new life. The realization was a spike of ice in his heart. And there they were. Sonarika, her vermillion and mangalsutra gone. Vikram, now shirtless, his body lean and confident. They stared at each other with the same deep connection he’d seen in those damned photographs, a world of understanding passing between them that Hemant had never been part of.


Then Vikram’s hands were on her face, and he was kissing her. Not a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. And Sonarika… Sonarika kissed him back with a wild, desperate abandon Hemant had never witnessed, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. This wasn’t just lust. It was the beginning of something far more intimate, far more devastating. Vikram’s fingers worked deftly, unwrapping her saree’s pallu until it pooled on the floor, leaving her in just a blouse and petticoat. He kissed her with a ferocious hunger, his mouth moving down her neck, nuzzling into the exposed swell of her cleavage. Hemant heard the soft, wet sounds of his lips on her skin. A white-hot rage ignited in his gut. He tried to surge forward, to tear them apart, and only then did he realize—he was tied to a heavy armchair, forced to watch.

"Untie me! I don’t want to be here!" he roared, straining against the bonds.

Sonarika moaned, breaking from Vikram’s kiss, her eyes glazed with desire. 

"You should be here. You need to see… see how a real man makes love to his woman!!!"


Vikram gave a low, dark chuckle, his eyes locking with Hemant’s as his hands went to her blouse. Buttons flew. Then the clasp of her red bra was undone. Her full breasts spilled into his hands, and he lowered his mouth to one peaked nipple, sucking hard, claiming. Hemant had always been so careful, so gentle, believing that was what she cherished. But now, Sonarika wasn’t crying out in pain. She was arching her back, her cries were of pure, unbridled pleasure as he bit and suckled, marking her pale skin with reddened love bites, his saliva making her glisten under the Goa sun. He was erasing Hemant’s gentle touches, replacing them with his own possessive brand. The rest of their clothes became a forgotten heap on the floor. Vikram turned her, his hands firm on her hips, positioning her on her knees on the edge of the bed. He held himself for a moment, the thick length of him pressing against her entrance, and then with one powerful, unforgiving thrust, he was inside her.


Hemant flinched as if he’d been struck. The sound—the wet, solid sound of their joining—echoed in the room. And then they were moving. Vikram’s hips pistoned, setting a ruthless, vigorous rhythm. The bed began to protest, its wooden frame creaking and slamming against the wall in time with their bodies. On a nearby nightstand, a single framed photo of Hemant, Sonarika, and a young Karan shook with every impact.

"Ahhh! Ahh! Yess!, Vicky! You’re the man I wanted!" she screamed, her voice raw. 

"You’re the only one who can make me feel this… make me feel complete!!!"

The sounds of their skin meeting, slap after wet slap, filled Hemant’s world. The ruthless gangster from his youth, long buried, roared to life inside him, screaming for violence, for blood. They shifted. Now she was on top, riding him with a ferocious energy, her head thrown back, her breasts bouncing. Vikram’s hands gripped her ass, guiding her, grinding her down onto him. 

"Can’t wait to do this every day" he grunted, his voice thick. 

"Make this our routine"

And in her ecstasy, Sonarika confessed it all. 

"I want it… I want to be pregnant again. I want to give Karan a sibling"

The words were a knife to Hemant’s soul.

"I’ll give you that" Vikram groaned, his hips bucking up to meet her downward plunge. 

"I’ll give you everything"

He rolled her beneath him, missionary now, and drove into her with a new, profound intensity. This was no longer just fucking. This was a ritual. A transfer of ownership. 

"I love you" he whispered against her mouth.

"I love you too" she cried back, her eyes seeing only him.

"Goa is our beginning. This is where our world grows"

"Yes! Our world!" she chanted, her moans becoming shrill, desperate.

Hemant stopped struggling. The fire in him had condensed into a cold, dense star of hatred. He was just a spectator to his own annihilation. Vikram’s pace became frantic, animalistic. 

"Will you marry me?" he grunted, the words punched out with each thrust.

"Yes! God, yes!"

"We’ll be perfect… have wonderful kids… I’ll give you Karan’s sibling…"

"I need your child… inside me… now…" she begged, pulling him down for a savage kiss.

Vikram’s body went rigid. A guttural, primal groan tore from his throat, a sound of absolute release. At the same moment, Sonarika’s scream peaked, her body bowing off the bed. Hemant’s eyes were drawn, horrifically, to where their bodies were joined. He saw the base of Vikram’s buried dick pulse violently, saw his balls tighten and draw up, the unmistakable,tell-tale sign of his climax. He was claiming her, breeding her, planting his seed deep in the womb that had once carried Hemant’s son. He was making her his, in the most fundamental way possible, right before his eyes.


The rage exploded. Hemant roared, the sound inhuman, and the restraints around his wrists ripped apart as he surged to his feet, ready to kill. He stood, eyes blazing, ready to unleash everything he had buried for years. But before he could take a single step — everything shattered. The sound of breaking glass rang out, and suddenly… he was back. Back in the Silver Beach Villa, alone.


The photo frame from his wedding had fallen, its glass splintered across the floor. The smiling faces of him and Sonarika stared up from the cracked frame — a ghost of what once was.


Hemant dropped to one knee, staring at the fragments. For the first time in a long time, his rage didn’t find a target — only exhaustion. The hallucination had passed, but the truth it revealed still lingered. Deep down, he knew Sonarika’s heart was already gone. He stood, walked toward the door, and whispered to the empty house. 

"I won't let this house to be a monument of my failures.....but rather the legacy of my rise!!"


As he stepped out into the night breeze, the villa stood silent behind him — beautiful, complete, and utterly hollow. For Hemant Kumar, the dream was dead. But somewhere beneath the ruin, a different kind of ambition rose within him.


                                                                                                                                                                                     (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                 (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT NIGHT



Night had already wrapped Mumbai in its neon haze when Hemant’s vehicle pulled into his apartment building parking lot. The roar of the city dulled behind concrete walls as he stepped out, carrying the weight of his nightmares from the villa. The scent of cool in the air — the kind that reminded him of old beginnings. He exhaled once before heading upstairs.


When he entered the apartment, laughter greeted him. Karan was sprawled on the couch, controller in hand, eyes glued to the television where digital racers tore through city streets. Beside him, Anjali sat cross-legged on the rug, textbooks and medical notes spread around her like a small battlefield. The warmth of the room pulled at something deep inside Hemant — something that still believed in family.


"Papa! You’re home!" 

Karan dropped the controller and ran to him. Hemant smiled, the first genuine one of the day, as he knelt to catch his son in an embrace. “You beat the new level?” he asked, ruffling the boy’s hair.

"Almost! You got the new game, right? The one you promised?"

Hemant pulled the case from his coat pocket with a flourish. 

"Of course. A promise is a promise"

Karan’s cheer echoed through the living room.

Anjali looked up from her notes and smiled. 

"You’re spoiling him, Bhaiya"

He shrugged lightly. 

"He deserves it. Studies treating you well?"

"Barely" she said, rubbing her temples. 

"Pharmacology is trying to kill me, it might try again in the coming year, but I’ll survive"

"You’ll do more than survive" Hemant said, his tone softening. 

"You’ll make a great doctor one day" 

The sincerity in his voice made her smile wider. For a moment, it almost felt like the old days before everything had fallen apart. Karan pulled Hemant to the couch. 

"Come on, Papa, let’s play! I’ll show you how to drift!"

They played for almost an hour — father and son locked in harmless competition, laughing over near misses and virtual crashes. It was a picture of joy, framed by the ordinary. And yet, behind it, something fragile hung — a silence that belonged to Sonarika, who stood by the doorway watching them. She smiled faintly. Watching them together was both balm and punishment. Her therapist had told her that healing began with acceptance — and seeing Hemant happy, even if not with her, was a small victory. She lingered quietly, clutching a cup of tea, before finally saying, 

"Dinner’s ready whenever you both are"


Later that night, when Karan was asleep, the apartment dimmed into a quiet hum. Sonarika sat by the window, moonlight touching her face. Hemant walked past her with his usual restraint, a polite nod and little else. 

"He’ll miss you when you go" he said, his tone even, unreadable.

She looked at him gently. 

"I’ll miss seeing you both together. You’re a wonderful father, Hemant. Goa will feel… emptier without that"

He didn’t meet her eyes. 

"Don’t worry. Soon I won’t have to torture myself seeing your face anymore"

The words hit her like ice. 

"You don’t have to be cruel" she said quietly. 

"I understand your pain. But sometimes the way you talk—"

"It should hurt" he interrupted. 

"Because that’s what you left me with"

She took a breath, steady but trembling. 

"I know. I made a terrible mistake. I’m trying to fix myself… therapy is helping. I know you hate me, and once I leave for Goa, you’ll finally have peace. But Hemant—" 

Her voice cracked slightly. 

"I still love you"

He turned to her then, eyes burning with something darker than anger. 

"You always say that. Until Vikram walks in and you willingly spread your legs. Then love means nothing" 

The venom in his voice came from heartbreak, not hatred. 

"Go to Goa. Build your new life with your man, your new family with him. I’ll make sure Karan visits when he wants to. You won’t hear my complaints. After all , you've already pushed me to a corner and want me to stay a looser in this whole fiasco"

"Don't say that.....I never wanted you to be anything like that" Sonarika said with shaky voice.
 
"And yet here I am. You're walking away , back to his arms , a future full of potential. You will have everything. A millionaire charming man who will give you countless orgasms , you will have a new family , willing to birth his kids. You will still have Karan , Anjali. And me? I will be forced to live in my dream house reminding me of my failures and how much of a loser I am since my wife found a better man to keep herself warm"

"Its not true Hemant , I am not going back to him"

"I don't care. Atleast for now , you going away , will make me feel less tortured and captive in this relationship"

"You do care. Which is why you keep bringing it up"

Hemant looked at her a little taken aback. He didn't expect for her to see through his mockery.

"How can I not? You know , I just went to my new house this evening. And when I was seeing all the finished work and ambience , all it gave me was a reminder that this home was my tomb , the tomb of my marriage. And when I closed my eyes. I saw a nightmare , and that nightmare involved you and your new lover. The way both of you mocked me while doing the most vile things in front of me , it made me realize that the nightmare showed me the mirror. I am the one who looses everything in this scenario. You get to wreck my heart and my life and you're getting rewarded with a new life in a new place with your man!!!"


Sonarika was stunned about how Hemant thinks and at the same time overwhelmed with emotions as tears fell listening to her husband's confession and his turmoil. But then she saw the shift in his demeanor. Him taking over control over his emotional state as Hemant spoke again.


"But don't worry Sonarika. I am not going to sit and take it all like a mockery of my life. Like I did in the past , I am going to mould those mockery and turn it into fuel to my drive to my growth. I will not let your decisions be my legacy. I will move on , move on from your meaningless existence in my life. Atleast with you going to Goa , I will finally get some sort of relief and the motivation to move on from you. So all the best for your perfect life Sonarika. Just make sure our interaction is minimal for the future!"

  
Hemant silently walked away and slept on the bed ignoring her. She looked down, tears welling despite herself. The mockery in his tone wasn’t lost on her, but beneath it she saw the man who was still bleeding. She wanted to reach out, to bridge that distance with warmth, but she knew it would only deepen the wound. 

"I know I have hurt you enough" she whispered. 

"But you're making me fall in love with you all over again Mister!!!"


Sonarika sat still, staring at the moonlight spilling over Karan’s toy car on the floor. Somewhere deep down, she still believed distance might heal what time had shattered. But for now, all that filled the home was the quiet ache of two people who once promised forever — now hoping for a redemption of being together again.



FEW DAYS LATER


The morning sun was a pale gold, rising slowly over the industrial skyline of Mumbai. Hemant Kumar stood inside the main assembly floor of YOD Industries, watching a massive hydraulic frame lower a prototype chassis for a military-grade mobility vehicle. Sparks from welding torches rained in steady rhythm. It was a morning like any other—until Raquel entered. The sound of his shoes echoed against the concrete floor, breaking the hum of machines. His usually composed face was hard, jaw locked. 

"Bhaijaan" Raquel said in a voice that didn’t match the calm morning. 

"We’ve got a problem in Azad Colony"

Hemant slowly turned. No panic. Just a quiet, cold shift in his gaze. He rolled his cuff down, buttoned it, and said. 

"Let’s go"

Outside, the engine of the green BMW M5 E39 growled to life, startling a few workers who had no idea their boss was driving into something far darker than boardroom meetings. As the M5 shot out of the factory gate, the early light struck the Eagle Crest mounted on the hood like a battle standard.


Azad Colony was already a storm when they arrived. Parents crowded the street, voices breaking through the humid air. Mothers in saris clutched photos, fathers barked into phones, kids stared wide-eyed. security officer hadn’t even shown up. When Hemant stepped out, the crowd shifted, as if a pillar had arrived. A desperate father ran to him, grabbed his shirt sleeve. 

"Bhai… they took my daughter. Karim’s brothel in Kamathipura. They are going to destroy her!!!"

Another woman wailed 

"They’re just children!"

Raquel’s voice was a grim knife. 

"Karim’s men are hosting a daylight auction. Buyers from Dubai and Turkey landed this morning. This is big"

Hemant placed a steady hand on the man’s trembling shoulder. 

"Listen to me" His voice was low, smooth as a blade sliding from its sheath. 

"I will bring them home. All of them"

Silence fell on the crowd. For these people, his word was iron.

Raquel filled him in as they walked to the car. 

"Three girls, all from the colony. Went missing just after they left for their institute. Witnesses saw a black Bolero van with tinted glass. It’s Karim Lala’s people. No doubt"

Hemant’s grip on the steering wheel tightened just slightly. 

"Karim Lala?”

"He is a pimp and one of loyalist of Dilawar , his death has made his business difficuilt!" 

Raquel corrected. 

"He used to supply women for Dilawar and Raquel. The brothers were the muscle for his business. He works from a section at Kamathipura , thing is a fortress full of anti-social elements"

He stepped back, already shifting gears in his head. 

"Raquel. Rally our men. Full kit. Its time to test their skills. Full warfare tactics!"

Within minutes, black SUVs rolled up to the Colony’s edge. The men who stepped out weren’t cops or gangsters—they were Hemant’s personal shadows. Ex-military, PMC veterans, ghosts who didn’t ask questions.

"Gear up at our Navi Mumbai hangar" Hemant ordered. 

"We have a bunch of anti-social elements to be neutralized for good. Strategy will be shock and awe. It will bean aerial insertion. Suit up and wait for the plane to arrive. Raquel , I want the drone in the sky for some recon. You lead the initial surveillance"

Raquel gave a single nod. 

"On it, Bhaijaan"

Hemant watched them move out like a trained blade being drawn. Then, without waiting, he slid back behind the wheel and drove. Not to Kamathipura. Not yet. First, he had a promise to keep with himself. The factory where YOD's primary HQ stood quiet, dust drifting through the morning beams. He walked through the silent hallway, past awards and framed newspaper clippings celebrating a man who built machines that reshaped the world. But beyond that—he knew— there was a part of him that ended lives.

The golden eagle statue on his desk gleamed faintly. He pressed its beak like a trigger. The wall behind the desk groaned, gears turning, until it split open like the gates of a hidden temple. An arsenal lay behind it. Rows of polished, deadly tools: Cold War relics reborn with modern precision. Carbines. Rifles. Knives. A stainless steel Smith & Wesson Model 629 .44 Magnum revolver with a chrome handle sat in its cradle like a silver beast.

But what stood in the center was something older. Darker.

The Inquisitor.

The blade leaned on its stand like it had been waiting for him to return.

His hand hovered over it. Hemant Kumar had kept Michael King on standby , a phantom that laid dormant and fed the success of Hemant Kumar—the phantom of blood and vengeance that once haunted the streets of London, Azarbaijaan and Shanghai. Michael was not just a storm , he was a calamity. Michael was fear itself.

And now, Karim’s people had touched the wrong children.

He wrapped his fingers around the sword’s crown-shaped hilt. The runes shimmered faintly under the sunbeams sneaking into the room.

As he lifted the blade, the Garuda ring—Anjali’s gift—caught the light, burning gold. On the other finger, the silver Archangel ring glimmered in sunlight like a quiet omen. The past and present met in the grip of that blade.

The air itself seemed to shift, the weight of the morning no longer gentle but heavy with coming violence.

He crossed the room and opened the matte-black gear locker. Out came the reinforced vest, black tactical coat, leather gloves, and combat boots polished not for ceremony—but war. Each buckle, each strap felt like closing a door on Hemant Kumar and reviving something older.

Raquel’s voice crackled through the comm in his ear. 

"Bhaijaan. Drones confirm location. Karim’s base is set. Two dozen men. Heavy guard. Girls are alive. Buyers arrive in one hour"

Hemant’s tone was calm, but it chilled the air. 

"Operation's a go , the plane will arrive in 15 minutes"

He holstered the revolver under his coat. The Inquisitor slid across his back with a soft, metallic whisper. He adjusted his gloves, pulled the hood over his head, and looked at his reflection in the steel locker door.

Hemant was gone.

Michael King was standing there.

"Let’s give the devil a reason to remember me" he whispered.

The sound of rotors began to grow distant outside as the men looked out of the hangar to see a Grey Cessna 206 taxing to the hangar. The men were confused as a mysterious man walked out wearing the same gear they had as he said.

"You boys ready....lets get going.....we're on the clock!"

Kamathipura was waiting, and Michael King had no mercy to offer. Karim Lala thought he was getting even for the death of his trusted ally. But little did he knew , he has awakened the same storm that dismantles Dilawar and Rafique's empire down!


The morning haze over Kamathipura shimmered faintly as the heat began to rise from the streets. Raquel sat in an old black pickup truck a block away from Karim Lala’s domain. His eyes scanned the brothel’s front gate through polarized glasses. Two heavy steel doors. Watchtowers rigged with floodlights. And outside, gleaming under the weak sun, a collection of imported SUVs and luxury sedans—silent proof of the “big money” guests already inside. Raquel pressed his comms. 

"Command, eyes on the target. The main entrance is crawling with guards. And the rumors are true—buyers from Dubai and Turkey. I count at least eight high-end cars inside"

Back at YOD Industries HQ, Kamya and Vaibhav sat before glowing monitors in the Control Room. Vaibhav maneuvered the drone, its shadow gliding over tin rooftops. Kamya toggled on the x-ray scanner. 

"I’ve got fifty heat signatures inside" she said. 

"Looks like a small army"

"Switch to thermal" Raquel ordered.

Kamya flipped the view. Red silhouettes flared against the black. 

"Thirty armed. Mostly with country pistols and shotguns. Nothing exotic, but plenty of bodies"

Raquel smirked. 

"Thirty armed. That’s thirty coffins"

In the sky, the soft drone of propellers grew louder. A gray Cessna 206 cut through the morning clouds, heading straight for the slum labyrinth. Inside, Hemant’s black-ops team sat in silence—faces hidden behind tactical masks, Vector R4 rifles resting across armored vests embossed with the Eagle sigil.

"Green light" Raquel’s voice came through. 

"Drop zone is clear"

The rear hatch opened. Wind roared in. One by one, the men jumped, parachutes blooming like ghostly wings against the sky. They cut through the rising sun, shadows descending toward hell. Raquel climbed up a nearby building, his boots grinding against the concrete as he reached the rooftop. He unzipped the long case he’d carried and assembled the CheyTac Intervention sniper rifle—the same one he used to put down Dilawar’s lieutenants. He lay prone, chambered a round, and whispered. 

"Overwatch in position"

The mercenaries landed with soft precision on the brothel’s roof. Two rooftop guards smoked carelessly by a rusted water tank. They never heard the silenced shots that dropped them. Inside, below the corrugated roof, chaos had its own rhythm. Dozens of men were packed around an indoor fighting pit, laughing, drinking, smoking. A filthy stage rose at the center. Karim Lala strutted onto it, gold rings flashing, cigar between his teeth. A cheer went up.

A giant music system was being played , humming a vintage song from the classic film Mohra named Tu Cheez Badi Hain Mast Mast.

"Gentlemen!" Karim’s voice boomed through the cheap loudspeakers. 

"Today, I bring you fresh quality—untouched and priceless!"

His goons dragged out the kidnapped girls, still in their uniforms. Their faces were red and swollen from crying. The crowd howled like animals. Karim cracked a grin, making vile remarks about their age, their worth, their “purity.”

"Let the bidding begin!" he barked.

Numbers flew. A heavyset man in a keffiyeh raised his hand with a smug grin. He outbid them all. The room broke into applause.

The girl screamed. 

"Maa! Maa, help!"

Then the ceiling opened.

The rafters came alive with shadows. Hemant’s men rappelled down with rifles spitting suppressed bursts. Lookouts were taken out before they even turned their heads. The first henchman to die didn’t even hit the floor before the next one followed. Panic erupted. Karim’s men scrambled for guns, but Hemant’s mercenaries moved like a black tide—precise, surgical, merciless.

From the rooftop, Raquel’s scope followed every twitch of muscle. Crack. A henchman’s skull painted the back wall. Crack. Another’s shotgun clattered to the floor, his body folding backward like paper. One by one, they fell. By the time the mercs controlled the rafters, half the room was dead or disarmed. The remaining henchmen huddled in confusion, buyers ducking behind crates.

Karim Lala’s face twisted from arrogance to fear. 

"KAUN HAI WOH!!!! (WHO IS HE!!!)" he screamed. 

"USS AADMI KO DHONDOO!!! (FIND THE MAN BEHIND THIS?!)"

A young girl—the third one in the line—lifted her tear-streaked face. Her voice shook but carried.

"Aadmi Nahin! (It’s not a man)…" she said. 



"Toofan!!!! (It’s a storm)"



Just then , one of Hemant's man came near the music system , turned off the old music and plugged his phone to play Toofan song from KGF 2.

Then the main door exploded open.

Samandar Mein Lehar Uthi Hain Ziddi Ziddi Hain Toofan!



(Waves Have Risen In The Sea By This Stubborn Stubborn Storm!)



Sunlight poured through like a blade. Hemant stepped in, wearing his black tactical coat, leather gloves, reinforced vest, and boots that echoed like a war drum against the floor. The room fell into a stillness thick enough to choke on.

Chattanein Bhi Kaap Rahin Hain Ziddi Ziddi Hain Toofan!



(Even The Mountains Are Trembling By This Stubborn Stubborn Storm!)


Behind him, the faint gleam of the Inquisitor (Hemant’s sword) caught the sun—an old blade with a crown-shaped hilt, whispering of legends best left buried. He didn’t walk like a man on a mission. He walked like Judgment itself.

He lifted his hand and gave a silent signal. His men lowered their rifles.

Ziddi Hain.....Ziddi Hai.....Ziddi Hain!



(Stubborn.....So Stubborn!)


"KILL HIM!" Karim roared in anger and panic.

The remaining goons rushed.

As the Toofan song reverbrated from the music system , it set the stage for another mayhem for the revived Michael King. The Inquisitor flashed from its sheath like a predator set loose. The first man who charged lost his arm before he understood what was happening. The second met the flat of the blade, which sent him crashing into a wall. The third tried to fire—Hemant twisted, deflected, and opened him up from shoulder to hip in one fluid motion.

Michael King was awake.

The blade moved like it wasn’t bound by earthly weight—cutting, spinning, dancing through flesh. Screams mixed with the clash of steel. Blood streaked the concrete floor. Bodies piled up in an orderly line of death. No street-trained thug could match his years of war. His strikes were clean, deliberate—every movement from a mind that had mapped this dance long ago in darker places. Karim’s empire collapsed in minutes.

When the last henchman hit the ground, only Karim and the foreign buyers remained. Hemant advanced, boots splashing in blood. One of the buyers tried to speak—he never finished. Hemant swung the Inquisitor in a single, perfect arc. The man’s head rolled onto the bidding table. Karim backed away, eyes wide, gold rings shaking. 

"You.....killed Dilawar" he stammered. 

"He was like a brother—"

Hemant tilted his head slightly. His voice was quiet. 

"Then let me send you to him!"

The blade slid into Karim’s gut with surgical precision. Karim’s scream tore through the emptying hall as Hemant twisted the blade, then let the man drop like the trash he was.

"Free them all" Hemant ordered, voice cold.

His men moved immediately—chains were cut, doors kicked open, girls ushered out with soft hands and steady words. The older women imprisoned there sobbed as they saw the eagle sigil and realized their nightmare was over.

Raquel descended from the rooftop, boots crunching on spent shells. He looked around at the red-painted floor and the mountain of dead men. 

"Bhaijaan" he muttered.

"What’s next?" He asked.

Hemant wiped the blade clean on Karim’s expensive sherwani. 

"We erase this place"

Raquel nodded and signaled. Several mercenaries rolled in gas cylinders from the kitchen, smashing open valves. Others doused the brothel in petrol and kerosene, moving with military precision. Outside, the girls were being escorted into waiting vans, away from the inferno to come. Hemant stood alone in the doorway where he had first appeared, Inquisitor hanging at his side. He looked back one last time at the sea of steel cylinders lying across the floor. Then he picked up a shotgun dropped by a dead henchman.

Click.

One pull of the trigger.

The world behind him erupted.

A column of fire tore through Karim’s domain, the shockwave shattering nearby windows. The explosion consumed every trace of the trafficking den, sending a dark plume high into the morning sky. The explosions tremors were felt across the city as the fire cloud formed was massive and visible through kilometers.

Hemant didn’t flinch. He walked away as fire ate the final remnants of Dilawar's empire , erasing his existence for good, his boots crunching on broken glass. Behind him, Michael King’s storm faded back into silence—until the next time he’d be called.

The promise was fulfilled. Azad Colony’s daughters were going home. And a portion of Kamathipura was burning.


The flames of Kamathipura still painted the far horizon with a faint orange smear when Hemant Kumar’s green BMW M5 E39 rolled back into Azad Colony. The streets that had been a cradle of grief that morning were now alive with voices, laughter, and tears of joy. Mothers ran barefoot into the street, fathers stumbled forward with trembling hands, and young girls—still shaken, but alive—were stepping down from YOD transport vans wrapped in blankets, led gently by Hemant’s men.

The crowd parted as Hemant stepped out of his car. He was still wearing the black tactical coat, though the collar was turned up to hide the blood at the edge of his sleeve. His face carried no triumph—only a quiet exhaustion, the weight of a man who had seen what he had to become to keep his word.

The first father to see him broke into tears and dropped to his knees, clutching Hemant’s hand. 

"Sir… you brought her back" he said, voice cracking. 

"You brought my girl back" Behind him, his daughter sobbed in her mother’s arms, whispering. 

"He came, Ma… he came to save us!"

Another woman stepped forward, her palms pressed together. 

"Kumar Saab, we will never forget this day" she said, eyes shining. 

"You didn’t just save them. You saved all of our honor. We will always stand by you. Azad Colony is your kingdom!"

A chorus followed—men and women speaking over each other, voices trembling but strong. 

"You’re our protector!" 

"Our brother!" 

"Our King!"

The term king bothered him. It brought that twinge of nightmare back in him. He had people who trusted him in the past and then they all perished and he couldn't save them. Hemant raised a hand, motioning for calm. 

"I am not a king.....and you all don’t owe me anything" he said quietly. 

"What you owe is to yourselves—to never bow again. To no man. To no monster" 

His gaze swept the Colony, the place he had once liberated from Dilawar’s chains. 

"Azad Colony stays free because you fight to keep it that way. I am just here as a support"

The people nodded, still weeping, still clinging to their children.

Raquel approached from behind, his usual sharp smirk softened. 

"You did it again, Bhaijaan" he said, voice low. 

"Perhaps you should accept that not everything about your past is a pain!"

Hemant exhaled slowly, eyes tracing the faces around him—mothers whispering prayers, fathers holding daughters as if afraid to let go. 

"No" he murmured. 

"I can't Raquel.....because everytime I try...it brings the memories of loss with it and I cannot bear it anymore!"

As the noise faded around him, his mind drifted. For a moment, he wasn’t standing in the middle of the street surrounded by gratitude—he was back in the empty silence of his home. The echo of Sonarika’s voice still lingered in his memory, the bitterness of their last argument, the cold distance that had become their routine.

Not so long ago victory felt hollow. When every battle he won left him more alone because of the situation in his house. But now, watching the fathers lift their daughters high into the air, hearing the laughter break through the scars of the morning—he felt something different. Something pure.

It wasn’t redemption. It was purpose.

Maybe his marriage was falling apart. Maybe the home he built in love had become a cage of silence. But this—this sight of Azad Colony reborn—was proof that his fight still meant something. That he could still protect, still build, still give others what he could not keep for himself.

Raquel stood beside him, arms folded. 

"They’ll remember this day for generations" he said.

Hemant’s eyes stayed on the people. 

"They shouldn’t remember me" he said. 

"They should remember that they were never helpless"

A small girl, no older than nine, ran up to him suddenly. She held a small paper flower, crushed slightly from her grip, and pressed it into his palm. 

"For you, Uncle" she said, smiling. 

"Thank you for saving us"

For the first time that day, Hemant’s lips curved—not quite a smile, but close enough to one. He crouched and brushed her hair back gently. 

"Be strong" he said. 

"Always"

The child nodded and ran back to her mother.

Raquel caught the look in Hemant’s eyes—half fire, half ache. 

"You know" he said quietly. 

"Maybe you can’t fix everything, Bhaijaan. But you still make the world better one street at a time"

Hemant looked toward the rising sun over Mumbai’s skyline. 

"That’s enough for now" he said simply. 

"That’s enough"

As he turned to leave, the Colony erupted again with cheers, chants of his name echoing through the narrow lanes. He didn’t stop to bask in it. He simply walked back to his car, the day wind carrying the faint smell of burning smoke from the ruins of Kamathipura.

Behind him, families were whole again.

Ahead of him, his factory awaited—another day, another mask to wear.

But deep inside, where the identities of Hemant Kumar and Michael King switched accordingly, a quiet peace lingered. For all the fire and blood he carried, he had still kept one promise that mattered.

And in that promise, he found a sliver of light strong enough to keep the darkness at bay.

                                                                                                                                                                                                   (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                            (CHAPTER CONTD)

FEW DAYS LATER AT THE APARTMENT



It was a quiet Monday morning at the apartment. The city outside was waking up with the morning’s traffic, and inside, Sonarika was sorting through files before heading to her office. The apartment smelled faintly of brewed coffee and sandalwood. She had just tied her hair into a neat bun when the doorbell rang.

She opened the door, half expecting the delivery boy.

But standing there was a young woman with a suitcase. She had a calm face, hair loosely tied, wearing a crisp white shirt and faded jeans. There was a hint of nervousness in her eyes but also something quietly self-assured.


"Um… yes?" Sonarika asked, tilting her head.

The girl blinked, then spoke softly. 

"I’m sorry, ma’am. This is the residence of Mr. Hemant Kumar, right?"

Sonarika frowned. 

"Yes. And you are?"

The girl hesitated. 

"I—uh—I’m Tara. I’m here for my… service and work"

"Work?" Sonarika echoed, her tone sharpening slightly. 

"I think you’ve come to the wrong address"

Before Tara could stammer a reply, a deep voice came from down the hallway. 

"It’s alright, Sonarika. She’s here for me"

Hemant appeared from the study, sleeves rolled up, hair still damp from his morning shower. His presence filled the room, as it always did. 

"Come in, Tara" he said. 

"We were expecting you"

Sonarika stepped aside, confusion flickering in her eyes as Tara wheeled her suitcase into the living room. A few minutes later, the family gathered near the sofa. Karan was at the table, his institutebag still open, and Anjali leaned casually against the wall, sipping tea.

Hemant gestured toward the young woman. 

"This is Tara" he said. 

"She’ll be staying with us for a while. She’s going to help manage the house, and she’ll also be tutoring Karan in his studies"

Tara offered a polite smile and joined her hands. 

"Namaste"

Karan looked up from his phone, curious. 

"You’re going to teach me?"

Tara chuckled softly. 

"Only if you promise not to run away when I give you homework"

That made Anjali laugh. 

"Good luck with that" she said. 

"He’s a master of excuses"

The small moment of warmth settled awkwardly between them, light but hesitant. Sonarika watched quietly, the polite smile on her face not reaching her eyes. As Karan showed Tara around the living room, Sonarika touched Hemant’s arm. 

"A word?"

They stepped aside to the hallway. Her tone, once polite, hardened into restraint. 

"Since when do we need a househelp, Hemant? You could’ve at least discussed this with me"

Hemant met her gaze steadily. 

"Sonarika, once the villa is ready and you leave for your assignment, I’ll need someone to manage things. You know I’m rarely home. Tara will help keep the place running"

"So this is about the villa?" she said, arms folding across her chest. 

"And you didn’t even think to tell me you’ve already hired someone?"

"I didn’t think I needed to" Hemant said quietly. 

"You made it clear you’re moving on with your life. I’m just learning to do the same"

The words hit her harder than she expected. For years, Hemant had always shared decisions—every house repair, every new hire, every little thing that involved their family. This time, he hadn’t.

She took a slow breath. 

"Who exactly is she?"

Hemant’s tone remained professional. 

"Tara was recommended through YOD’s welfare network. She’s a trained medical practitioner. Once we shift to the villa, she’ll set up a small clinic in the corner annex. It’ll help the local workers and nearby families. Until then, she’ll stay here—in the guest room"

Sonarika looked toward the living room again, where Tara now knelt beside Karan, showing him something from a workbook. Her posture was confident, her tone gentle. Tara looked young—early twenties, maybe. Her energy was fresh, unfiltered, a kind of quiet boldness that came naturally. There was no makeup, no jewelry, just that effortless ease that comes with youth.

Something inside Sonarika tightened.

It wasn’t anger. Not quite. It was the quiet sting of realizing another woman would soon share space with the man she once called her own—the man she was still legally married to.

"So she’s living here now" Sonarika said slowly.

"For now" Hemant replied. 

"She knows about the villa, and she is on board regarding the house surprise for Karan and Anjali as I wanted"

Sonarika nodded mechanically, her thoughts already spinning. 

"Surprise" she repeated under her breath. 

"You’re full of surprises lately, Hemant"

He didn’t answer. He simply adjusted his sleeve and mocked back. 

"That is really ironic coming from you. Because none of my surprises can match what you've surprised me with!"

She stared at him for a second longer, trying to find the trace of the man who once told her everything, who once needed her in every decision. But now—there was a distance. Not anger, not coldness, just… detachment.

When she finally left, she glanced back once more.

Through the half-open door, she saw Tara laughing lightly as Karan teased her about math homework. Anjali was smiling too, showing her the layout of the flat. And in the corner, Hemant stood by the window, arms crossed, silent but watching, that old protective calm about him.

The sight twisted something in Sonarika’s chest.

As the elevator doors closed, her reflection stared back at her—perfect makeup, elegant poise, and eyes clouded with something she didn’t want to name.

Jealousy.


Or maybe loss.

Either way, the arrival of Tara had shifted something in the quiet equilibrium of their lives.

And as the city roared awake below, Sonarika knew one thing for certain—Hemant was moving on. And for the first time, she realized how much that terrified her.



THAT NOON AT TANISHQ CORPORATE BUILDING CAFE



It was late afternoon at the Business Complex of TANISHQ, the glass towers reflecting the fading sunlight like mirrors of molten gold. Inside the bustling corridors, executives moved briskly, carrying their ambitions in leather folders and the faint smell of coffee. Sonarika walked out of her office at TANISHQ, exhaustion softening her usually sharp poise. The past few months had been relentless—balancing her work, therapy sessions , prep work for VATIKA Research Center, and the emotional weight of a divorce in progress. The cooling period was going through, but the ache still lingered.

As she stepped into the shared lounge on the 4th floor, she noticed a familiar face at one of the tables, scrolling through her phone with that same air of sly confidence. 

Meghna looked up, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

"Well, look who finally decided to emerge from her corporate cave"

Sonarika managed a small smile. 

"Meghna, I thought you never preferred this place"

"I like the coffee here" Meghna said, motioning toward the chair opposite hers. 

"And the gossip’s always fresher when you’re around"

Sonarika sighed but sat down. It had been a while since they spoke properly , especially since her reveal of moving to Goa , Sonarika had doubts about her best friends , doubts that have started to question each moment she shared with her since childhood.

"So" Meghna said, resting her chin on her hand. 

"You look... off. What’s bothering you this time? Therapy fatigue? Divorce drama? Or is it the Goa transfer Ragini keeps bragging about?"

Sonarika frowned. 

"You’ve been talking to Ragini?"

"Of course I have. She’s practically your guardian angel these days" 

Meghna said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Always hovering around you, preaching about healing and self-forgiveness. It’s adorable, really"

Sonarika exhaled quietly. 

"Ragini’s been a good friend, Meghna. She showed me a path when everything darkened for me. She introduced me to Sreelekha Naik and helped me get the position at VATIKA Botanical Research Center. It’s a fresh start I… desperately need"

Meghna leaned back, her eyes narrowing slightly. 

"And leaving Mumbai, leaving Hemant—just like that?"

Sonarika hesitated before replying. 

"Hemant and I are done. We’re just… waiting out the period. There’s nothing left to fight for"

Meghna tilted her head, studying her. 

"You sound calm. Too calm. That usually means something just rattled you"

Sonarika looked down at her cup. 

"It’s nothing"

"Oh, come on" Meghna said, leaning closer. 

"I’ve known you long enough to spot when something’s chewing your mind. Spill it"

After a pause, Sonarika muttered. 

"Hemant’s brought someone new into the house"

"A someone?" Meghna’s eyes lit with curiosity.

"A woman" Sonarika said. 

"Her name’s Tara. He said she’s a house assistant and tutor for Karan. But…"

"But?" Meghna’s smirk sharpened.

"She’s young" Sonarika admitted reluctantly. 

"Beautiful, too. And she’s living in the apartment now"

Meghna chuckled, low and venomous. 

"Oh, Sonarika. You really are naïve sometimes. The man’s not wasting any time, is he? Brings home a young woman just when you’re walking out the door. Classic"

"It’s not like that" Sonarika said quickly. 

"Hemant isn’t—he’s not that kind of man"

"Not that kind of man?" Meghna echoed, feigning disbelief. 

"Every man’s that kind once the marriage ends. You think he’s keeping her there just to fold laundry and tutor your son? Please"

"Stop it" Sonarika said sharply. 

"You don’t know him"

"Oh, I know men" Meghna replied smoothly, crossing her legs. 

"And I know what a lonely man with power and a bleeding ego looks for. Especially after being cheated on"

That last jab hit its mark. Sonarika’s throat tightened.

"I was the one who ruined it" Sonarika said quietly. 

"Hemant didn’t deserve what I did. I was the one who sought Vikram. I was the one who broke us"

Meghna’s smirk faded, replaced with a mock-sympathetic tilt of her head. 

"You keep saying that like some confessional mantra. But let’s be honest—you went to Vikram because Hemant couldn’t give you what you needed. Emotionally. Physically. Otherwise"

"You’re wrong" Sonarika said firmly. 

"Hemant gave me everything. Stability. Kindness. But I… I was reckless. And foolish"

"Reckless?" Meghna’s tone dripped with amusement. 

"That’s one way to describe passion"

Sonarika shook her head, eyes glistening faintly. 

"There’s no passion in betrayal. There’s only regret"

For a moment, Meghna’s expression hardened, the playful mask cracking ever so slightly. Something bitter flashed behind her eyes—an emotion older and deeper than mockery.

"So you’re running off to Goa to play the saint?" Meghna said finally. 

"Pushing away a man who actually loves you—Vikram—while your husband plays house with a younger woman. That’s rich"

"Vikram deserves better" Sonarika replied. 

"But he knew I was married. And he still chased me anyway. I can’t pretend that was love—it was escape. And now I see that"

Meghna leaned in, her voice soft but sharp. 

"You’re punishing yourself for something you both wanted. You’re letting Ragini and her moral sermons brainwash you into becoming some self-sacrificing saint. You don’t owe anyone redemption, Sonarika"

Sonarika looked up at her, meeting her gaze with quiet resolve. 

"Maybe not. But I owe it to myself to be better"

There was silence between them for a long moment.

Then Meghna smiled—cold and cutting. 

"Well, I hope this new version of you enjoys her plants and peace in Goa. But before you go, you should know something"

Sonarika raised a brow. 

"What?"

"Vikram’s coming to your send-off party" 

Meghna said casually, stirring her coffee. 

"Mirror News is co-hosting with TANISHQ this weekend. He’ll be there"

Sonarika’s tone was neutral. 

"He’s welcome to come. As a friend"

Meghna’s smile twitched. 

"A friend. Of course"

When Sonarika stood up to leave, Meghna’s gaze followed her, eyes darkening like storm clouds gathering over still water. As the glass doors of the lounge shut behind Sonarika, the journalist’s nails tapped rhythmically on the table—slow, deliberate.

"Always the righteous one now" she murmured under her breath. 

"But we’ll see how long that halo lasts, little sister"

Her lips curled into a vengeful smirk.

Because in Meghna’s mind, Ragini had stolen her victory, Sonarika had stolen her peace, and her world—the one she planned to break—was still standing.

Not for long.

The quiet war in Sonarika’s life had only just begun.

The afternoon sunlight poured into the TANISHQ Corporate Headquarters through tall glass windows, scattering golden shards across the marble floor. The boardroom buzzed with quiet conversations as Sonarika stood near the projector screen, surrounded by familiar faces — colleagues, mentors, and her senior management team.

It was her final week at the company. Ten years of dedication, creativity, and leadership had earned her a reputation as one of TANISHQ’s most dependable strategists. Her seniors had gathered to discuss her farewell celebration.

"Sonarika" said Mr. Bhattacharya, the chairman, his smile warm but tinged with nostalgia. 

"You’ve given this company your best years. We’re proud — not just of your work, but your grace through everything you’ve endured. So, we’re organizing something special. A farewell that matches the decade you’ve given us"

The others nodded in agreement, clapping lightly.

"We’ll make it memorable" said Aparna, her new immediate superior. 

"Music, speeches, everything. And it would be extra special if your husband, the Hemant Kumar, joined us as our chief guest. It’s not every day we get to host one of the country’s fastest-rising industrialists"

Sonarika froze, the smile on her lips faltering for a split second. 

"Hemant?"

"Yes!" Bhattacharya said cheerfully. 

"It would be an honor if he could say a few words about your journey — as a colleague, a partner, a woman who stood beside him in his earlier days"

She hesitated. 

"Sir, Hemant’s… a very busy man. I’m not sure he’d—"

"Oh, come now" Aparna interrupted gently. 

"A woman of your stature deserves a proper send-off. And if your husband’s presence can make it grander, all the better. Please, Sonarika, at least try"

Their insistence was kind but firm. Sonarika eventually nodded. 

"Alright. I’ll ask him"

Ever since the beginning , Sonarika had never seen where Hemant worked. Back when he was employed at Quadron, he was just a man with a humble salary, modest dreams, and fierce determination. But now, he ran YOD Industries, a defense powerhouse that had made headlines in the city.

Driving through the outer perimeter of vacant side of the Mumbai port, she followed the directions until the massive steel gates of YOD INDUSTRIES HQ came into view.

Her breath caught.

The entrance was lined with security checkpoints, surveillance drones, and guards in tactical gear. The gate itself bore the golden insignia of YOD Industries — Hemant’s mark of leadership.

As her car passed the checkpoint, the scanner lights flickered blue, and the gates slowly opened.

Inside, Sonarika was stunned.

The once-abandoned dockyard she remembered from Anjali’s old photos had transformed into a futuristic manufacturing complex — sleek steel structures, automated cranes, robotic arms assembling armored vehicles, and drones hovering along rails. Soldiers from the Indian Army were supervising the loading of weaponized ATVs into massive covered trucks.

For a brief moment, she forgot to breathe.

Her husband — the same man who once worked late hours fixing code bugs on a second-hand laptop — now commanded an empire.

She parked her car and entered the HQ’s main building. Engineers in black uniforms moved briskly, monitors displayed blueprints of advanced defense tech, and the air hummed with industry.

A young woman in a YOD lanyard approached her with a surprised smile.

"Mrs. Kumar?"

Sonarika turned. The woman was Kamya, one of Hemant’s software engineers.

"I’m here to meet Hemant"

"Oh! He’s at the Trial Bay right now. We’re testing the new rotary cannon prototype" 

Kamya said enthusiastically. 

"Come with me — I’ll take you there"

Sonarika followed her through long glass corridors until they reached a reinforced observation cabin overlooking the test range.

"Please wait inside, ma’am" Kamya said. 

"It’ll be loud out there"

Through the glass, Sonarika saw him.

Hemant stood beside army officials and engineers — earplugs in, his expression focused. The cannon before them was massive, the Raptor-8 Gatling Gun, its barrels gleaming in the sunlight.

The test began.

When the trigger was pulled, the weapon unleashed a roar that shook even the soundproof cabin. The barrels spun in fury, discharging a torrent of thunder. The cabin’s glass quivered with the shockwave.

Yet Hemant stood unmoved, giving instructions amid the chaos — confident, commanding, magnetic.

When the trial ended, the engineers applauded. Hemant removed his earplugs, shared a few notes with his team, and then — as if sensing her — looked up toward the cabin.

Their eyes met.

His surprise was unmistakable.

Moments later, he walked in, his presence still charged from the field. 

"Sonarika?" he said evenly. 

"What are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk" she replied softly.

He gestured for her to follow. On the way, Raghav, one of his engineers, approached him.

"Sir, BTR’s first test run was a success"

"Good" Hemant said briskly. 

"We’ll schedule the full-range test next week"

As they walked through the upper deck, Sonarika was mesmerized by the technological marvel around her — robotic assembly lines, 3D printers shaping alloy armor, workers and machines moving in perfect rhythm.

Then Kamya returned, carrying a tablet. 

"Sir, the payment from the last two alignment knot buyers has cleared. Profit margins just went up by eight percent"

"Finalize the digital schematics for the BTR" Hemant said. 

"We’ll integrate them before the next phase"

"Yes, sir"

Finally, they entered his cabin.

It was spacious but severe — black steel furniture, holographic projectors, and a panoramic window overlooking the factory and the lobby outskirts. On the walls hung certificates and awards of YOD’s achievements.

But what caught Sonarika’s eye was the glass case holding Hemant’s old military uniform, perfectly preserved. Next to it, family photos — Anjali, Karan, even one from their old Pondicherry trip.

Only, in that picture, she had been cropped out.

A quiet ache settled in her chest.

Hemant broke the silence first. 

"So, you’ve finally come to see my world"

She smiled faintly. 

"It’s… incredible. You’ve built something extraordinary, Hemant. I’m proud of you"

He gave a low chuckle — but it carried an edge. 

"Took you long enough to notice. Maybe if I’d worked this hard on the bed instead of in factories, you’d have noticed sooner"

Sonarika flinched slightly but didn’t respond. She understood the bitterness behind his words — the kind that grows only from heartbreak.

"I came because my company’s hosting a send-off party" she said calmly. 

"They want you to attend — as a special guest. To say a few words"

He raised a brow. 

"Because I’m your husband?"

"Because you’re a rising industrial sensation" she replied.

His lips curled faintly. 

"Will Vikram be there?"

"Yes" she said firmly. 

"Along with Meghna, Mouni, and Ragini"

He gave a short, cynical laugh. 

"Ah. Maybe another dance performance? Like the one where it all started?"

Her jaw tightened. 

"It started much later, Hemant. You know that"

"Maybe" he said coldly. 

"But the seeds were there"

Silence filled the space between them, heavy with memories neither could bear to voice.

After a moment, he sighed. 

"I’m not sure I can come. I have work — deadlines, meetings—"

"I understand" she interrupted gently. 

"You don’t owe me that. I just thought… it would mean something to them. And a lot more to me"

She turned to leave.

"Sonarika" he called after her.

She paused.

He looked at her — tired, guarded, yet not entirely without warmth.

She smiled faintly. 

"I was late in seeing what you’ve become, Hemant. But I see it now. You’ve built something far greater than any of us imagined. I wish I could’ve seen this version of you… when we still had a chance"

And with that, she walked out.

Hemant watched her go — the soft click of her heels fading into the hum of his empire.

For a long while, he sat in silence, eyes lingering on the cropped Pondicherry photograph. His jaw clenched, the old ache in his chest rising once again.

Somewhere deep inside, beneath the armor of success and rage, a part of him still whispered — She’s leaving. For good this time.

And yet, as Sonarika walked down the steel corridor outside, her own heart trembled with a bittersweet calm

She had seen the best of him — too late — but at least now, she knew he would be alright.

Even if they could never be again.

                                                                                                                                                                       (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                    (CHAPTER CONTD)

AT THE SAME TIME AT A RESTAURANT IN MUMBAI



They chose a corner table beneath a soft lamp, the restaurant’s polite clatter folding around them like a distant ocean. Meghna watched Vikram as if cataloguing damage: the slump at his shoulders, the dullness around his eyes, the way his laugh had been replaced by a brittle quiet. She stirred her tea slowly, every movement practiced, every smile a small calculus.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, voice velvet.

Vikram laughed—short and empty. 

"Like a bad song on repeat. I can’t stop thinking about her. All day, every day" 

He rubbed his face with both hands. 

"She’s moving to Goa. Sonarika—she’s walking away and I have nothing to show but excuses"

Meghna leaned in, hands folded, the picture of sympathy. 

"Don’t say ‘nothing.’ You have more than most men. You have patience. You have a way with people. You can be the man she remembers wanting—the one who makes her feel alive again" 

Her words were gentle, but each one landed like an instruction.

He looked up, desperate. 

"But she’s decided to leave. She said she wants to start over. She’s doing therapy, going to Vatika, building a life there. How do I even compete with that? With everything she’s trying to leave behind?"

Meghna’s smile sharpened. 

"You don’t compete with what she’s leaving. You become the reason she shouldn’t leave. You remind her who she was when she was happiest—and you show her that being with you will be easier, truer, more honest. People abandon things they think are gone. Don’t let her think you’re gone"

Vikram’s voice lowered. 

"You think she could come back? Really?"

"I don’t think—" Meghna cut him off, no false modesty in her tone. 

"I know. You have history. You have the one thing Hemant never gave you—undeniable passion and the ability to pull her out of herself.” She allowed the word to hang between them. “She pushed you away because she believed she had to. You can make her believe she wants to be pulled back"

Vikram’s fingers tapped the table, the old hunger stirring. 

"But how? She’s guarded. She’s trying to be better. I can’t just barge into her life without looking like a fool—or worse"

Meghna’s eyes glinted. 

"You don’t barge. You return. You show up not as a tempter but as the man who understands her. Be generous with attention, but be smarter than simple grand gestures. Let her see consistency. Arrive at the send-off not as a desperate lover, but as the man she once chose—the man she might still choose"

He leaned forward, hopeful. 

"So, be steady. Be present. Make her see me as the right man"

"Exactly" Meghna’s hand brushed his wrist in a gesture that felt aiding and inscrutable. 

"And don’t be shy about intimacy when the moment invites it. Not forcefully—never forcefully—but with confidence. Remind her with touch that you know her body and what makes her laugh and what calms her. Rekindling isn’t a single act; it’s a sequence of carefully calibrated moments. A look, a hand on the small of her back, a shared memory that lands like a warm truth"

Vikram swallowed. The idea of closeness—simple, consensual closeness—brought color back to his face. 

"So you’re saying I should try to make her want me again. Make her remember what we had?"

"That’s it" Meghna said, eyes bright. 

"Make her remember the man who understood risk and joy in equal measure. Make her see that Hemant may build machines and sway governments, but he can’t give her the reckless, messy, tender parts of herself that you did"

A thin line of doubt creased Vikram’s forehead. 

"What about the moral part? What if she rejects me again? I don’t want to become the kind of man I hated when I first chased her"

Meghna’s voice softened into a near-whisper, persuasive with intent. 

"Then you step back. You accept. But don’t begin with the fear of failure. Begin with the certainty that you can be better. Be the man who listens more than he speaks. Be the man who makes the world safe enough for her to fall back into. If she chooses him—or herself—then you honor that. But don’t abdicate before the fight has begun"

He ran his hand through his hair, the plan hardening into something he could act on. 

"And the send-off?"

"Be there" Meghna said simply. 

"Not to make a scene, but to be present. Find a chance to speak to her privately. Remind her of one thing she said once—something only she and you shared. Make her laugh. Then, if the chemistry is real and the moment gentle, take her hand, sit close, and ask for one more night of honesty. Not to trap her. To show her the depth of what you feel"

She watched him carefully—measuring how much of him she could steer. 

"If she responds, be tender. If she withdraws, don’t roar—retreat with dignity. Men who scare women with neediness lose any chance of rekindling anything true"

Vikram breathed out, half relief and half resolve. 

"You’re dangerous" he told her, a rueful smile cracking his misery for a second.

Meghna returned the smile, all sugar gloss over steel. 

"Dangerous gets results"

He stood, the decision settling into his posture. 

"I’ll be there this weekend. I’ll do it your way—steady, careful, convincing. I’ll make her see that I’m the right man for her"

Meghna rose with him, slipping into her coat like a second skin. 

"And Vikram—no theatrics. No revenge. Win her with truth, or don’t win her at all. But for God’s sake, don’t creep her out. We want a love regained, not a scandal"

Outside, they parted on the sidewalk—Meghna with a satisfied, secretive tilt to her mouth, Vikram walking away with a small, dangerous hope pulsing under his ribs. Behind him, the city moved on: lights, traffic, lives that would cross and recross. Inside him, something had shifted from longing to strategy. Meghna had handed him a map back into Sonarika’s life—one that required charm, persistence, and a willingness to cross moral lines he hadn’t yet named.

As he disappeared into the crowd, Meghna watched him go and whispered into the night, not for his ears but for her own. 

"Make sure you do it right"


THAT WEEKEND EVENING


The private banquet hall glimmered like a palace of fleeting dreams—golden dbangs, chandelier lights, champagne flows, and the hum of corporate pride. Tonight was Sonarika’s night, the firm’s legend, the face of their success story , but now bidding farewell to the company. Applause and camera flashes greeted her arrival; none knew the ruin she carried within.

She stepped into the hall in a long emerald gown, slit running tastefully yet dangerously high, occasionally revealing the sculpted strength of her legs. She smiled, poised, elegant—but only she knew the tremor beneath all of it.

Tejas waved first, followed by Gayathri, Pooja, Aniket, Vishnu, and Pragya. Compliments flew like confetti—'You look stunning!', 'Star of the night!'—and she received every one with a soft grace, a trained smile masking the faint ache behind her eyes. Then came Meghna, dbangd in a rich blue saree, walking beside Rachika—bright-eyed, unsuspecting Rachika, who still believed Vikram was Sonarika’s destined future. The irony stung. If fate had a sense of humour, tonight it was cruel.

Sonarika hugged them, mind rehearsing composure. Meghna’s eyes shimmered with quiet triumph—she wasn’t here to celebrate; she was here to see how her seed of chaos was growing. And then, like a prince stepping out of a fairytale—but one stained with borrowed dreams—Vikram entered. No dark blazer tonight. Instead, a cream suit, sky-blue shirt beneath, radiating confidence and hope. The crowd cheered his arrival, and his face lit up when he saw her. Almost like love, almost like obsession.

"You look… radiant" 

He said softly when they met, voice carrying a reverence that once made her feel invincible.

"And you" she replied, forcing a light laugh. 

"Look more colourful than usual. Very unlike you"

"Tonight is your night" he smiled. 

"I don’t deserve the spotlight"

If only he knew how little she wanted it.

Later, an executive approached her.

"Will your husband be joining us?"

She hesitated just a beat too long.

"He… might. He’s been busy. The business is doing exceptionally well"

The executive nodded and left, satisfied. But Sonarika wasn’t. Her mind replayed the cavernous steel empire she’d seen—her husband’s world now, forged by fire and betrayal. The Hemant she once loved—gentle, soft-spoken—had melted away into someone steel-edged, relentless, powerful. A man sculpted by hurt.

Her infidelity had not only broken a marriage; it had broken a man—and rebuilt him into something formidable and unreachable.

And yet, God help her, she felt drawn to that new Hemant more than ever.

Then the music changed.

Mozart. Soft, melancholic, dripping nostalgia.

Vikram extended a hand.

"Dance with me?"

She hesitated—but the crowd expected it. The past expected it. She placed her hand in his, and they drifted into the spotlight. Their bodies moved close in the slow classical rhythm—an echo of old sins. Once, this dance meant passion and secret nights tangled in forbidden sheets. Now, the touch felt hollow. Wrong. Almost suffocating.

She wasn’t that woman anymore.

But Vikram was still that man—eyes searching hers, every subtle movement trying to reignite something long turned to ash. His hands were gentle yet desperate, his heart beating too loud for the room.

She didn’t feel fire.
She felt nothing but the ghost of regret.

He sensed the shift. For the first time, defeat flickered across his face—but pride held him upright. Hope is a stubborn poison.

Across the hall, Meghna watched… and smiled, believing her web still held. Then she slipped away quietly with Rachika, whispering poison of future promises into the night.

Sonarika continued to dance, but she wasn’t here anymore.
She was somewhere between who she had been
and the woman she was terrified she could never become again.

And outside this cocoon of music and illusion, a storm was walking toward them—cold-hearted, steel-clad, sword-bound.

Hemant was coming.

Not as her husband.
Not as the man she once broke.

But as the empire she inadvertently forged.



SOME TIME LATER


The dance floor glowed under soft golden lights. Sonarika and Vikram moved in slow rhythm, Mozart floating like an old memory that refused to die. For others, it was elegance. For Sonarika, it was a silence filled with ghosts.

Then came the sound.

A soft hush in the parking driveway, heads turning as camera flashes shifted, murmurs rising.

A deep navy-blue Lexus LM 350h — four-seater, ultra-luxury — rolled to a stop at the entrance. Its polished surface gleamed like still water under moonlight. On the grille, the YOD Industries emblem shone like a rising dynasty's crest.

The doors opened with ceremonious slowness.

Hemant stepped out.

Black silk suit. Crimson shirt glowing under the night lights. His long hair neatly brushed back, face calm… but eyes carrying the quiet violence of someone who had drowned and learned to breathe underwater.

A man forged, not born.

Executives from Tanishq rushed to him with sudden reverence — palms folded, backs slightly bent, voices filled with respect. Years ago, they wouldn’t have spared him a glance. Tonight, they looked honoured just to greet him. It felt good. For a second, truly good.

Then he saw them.

Across the hall, Sonarika—elegant, radiant, breathtaking—dancing with Vikram. Her leg glimmering through the high slit of her gown, her body lightly aligned with Vikram’s. And Vikram’s eyes… still burning with the same hunger from his nightmares.

A slow, clean stab in Hemant’s chest.

His jaw flexed. His eyes darkened. Meghna, watching from the corner, smirked, relishing the storm she believed she controlled. But then something else happened. Hemant inhaled. Blinked the pain away. His posture straightened, and he calmly turned back toward the executives, offering them a tempered smile, as though nothing ever touched him.

Cold poise.

A king refusing to bleed in public.

The song ended. Applause erupted. Sonarika turned — and froze. He came. Joy surged through her chest, and in a heartbeat she abandoned Vikram and walked toward him, hesitating only long enough to tuck her hair behind her ear, breathing hope as if it were oxygen.

"I’m so glad you came" she whispered, eyes shining.

Hemant’s expression didn’t soften. He gave a polite nod. 

"I noticed. Looked like you were… already having a wonderful time. With your man"

The words hit like a quiet explosion.

"No, Hemant— that’s not—"

He raised a hand lightly, not to stop her—just to end the moment. Then he walked past her without another word. Sonarika stood still, breath shaky, the warmth draining from her evening.

The party carried on.

Speeches began. Sonarika sat tense, fear swirling — Hemant was unpredictable in moments like these. What if he humiliated her? An executive nudged Hemant to speak. The mic landed in his hand. He looked at the crowd, then at Sonarika — and she braced herself. But his voice was calm. Proud. Not of marriage. But of who she was to the world.

"Sonarika’s journey here" he began.

"Has turned her into the woman she always deserved to become. Tanishq didn’t just employ her — it shaped her. Gave her confidence, strength, and refinement"

Hemant continued.

"I’ve often joked that Tanishq is her true husband. I was only the decorative piece in the living room"

Laughter echoed — light, affectionate.

"But jokes aside, her dedication, her discipline, her grace — these will remain long after she leaves. She leaves not just as an employee, but as a legacy"

He paused, voice steady, eyes unreadable.

"I am proud. Not as her husband — but as someone who had the fortune of witnessing her growth"

Applause thundered. Sonarika exhaled, overwhelmed, wanting to both smile and cry. She wasn’t sure whether he meant to honour her… or quietly remind everyone she was no longer his to introduce. The celebration resumed — except for Sonarika. Her gaze followed Hemant like a prayer, a plea, a regret. Later, she caught him walking out.

"Where are you going?" she asked, voice fragile.

"My obligation is done" he replied. 

"I attended. That was the expectation"

"Hemant, please—"

He stopped.

"Are you coming home tonight?" he asked quietly.

Sonarika hesitated.

"I… I told Ragini I’d stay with her and the girls tonight"

His smile cut deeper than anger ever could.

"Of course. Another night. Another excuse"

“It’s not a lie—”

"Enjoy your night and future with your big dick lover" he murmured, gaze distant. 

"I’ll go home to my son and my sister. At least there, I don’t feel like the extra piece in someone else’s story"

The Lexus door shut gently, yet the sound echoed like finality.

As the car pulled away, Sonarika’s vision blurred. Glass halls, glittering gowns, applause… yet she had never felt so alone.

Hemant didn’t look back once.

She stood in the driveway, tears gathering, watching him vanish into the Mumbai night — successful, untouchable, wounded beyond reach… and somehow still the man she loved most when she least deserved to.

And for the first time that night, she felt the full weight of her choices.

The curtain had not fallen.

It had only just begun to tear.

                                                                                                                                                                                                           (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                           (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT EVENING AT THE APARTMENT



The apartment door shut behind Hemant with a soft click. Inside, warmth greeted him—Tara tidying toys, the faint scent of fresh dal, and little Karan running toward him with arms wide.

"Papa!"

For the first time all evening, Hemant’s face softened. He knelt, hugging his son tightly—almost desperately.

"How was your day, champ?"

Karan beamed, animatedly showing a drawing of a “big robot dad” saving people. Hemant smiled. A part of him wanted to stay in that innocence forever. A place untouched by betrayal, doubt, or haunting memories of another man’s hands on the woman he once loved. The father and son duo enjoyed their time playing games in the playstation. But for Hemant , it was a hard time to really enjoy it.


The controller vibrated faintly in his palm, a distant echo of the racing car he was supposedly piloting on the screen. Karan’s giggles were a bright, sharp counterpoint to the heavy fog in Hemant’s head.

"You’re driving so badly, Papa!" 

The boy squealed as Hemant’s car veered off the digital track and slammed into a barrier for the third time. A soft, warm hand placed a cup of tea on the table beside him. 

"Long night?" 

Anjali asked, her voice laced with a sympathy that felt like a pinprick. He just grunted, his focus brittle. The real distraction wasn’t the game. It was the ghost of a green dress, the memory of silk clinging to a familiar, shapely ass, the way another man’s hand had fit so possessively on the curve of a hip that was once his to touch. His soon-to-be ex-wife’s hip.

"Where’s Mumma?" 

Karan asked, his large, innocent eyes never leaving the television screen as he expertly navigated a sharp turn.  Hemant’s throat tightened. 

"She’s staying with some aunties, her friends from work. She’ll be back in the morning" 

The lie, Sonarika’s lie he believes, tasted like ash on his tongue. He forced a smile. He knew. He’d seen them at the party, a private send-off for her life in Mumbai to move to Goa. For her ‘fresh start’. What a perfect, respectable facade. He’d walked into that massive hall and the first thing he saw was them, swaying to a Mozart piece that was too classical for the heat in their movements. That red-carpet gown, the vibrant green of envy itself. Off-the-shoulder, highlighting the heavy, tempting swell of her cleavage. The long slit that promised a glimpse of her strong, meaty thighs with every step. And Vikram. His hand on the small of her back, then lower, his fingers splaying over the silk-covered curve of her buttock, a claim made in front of everyone yet seen, he was sure, only by him.

The memory was a branding iron. He shoved it down, deep, and focused on his son’s laughter until it was time for bed.

Later, after dinner and bedtime stories, Karan finally drifted to sleep. Hemant stepped out onto the balcony with a glass of water, staring at the city lights bleeding into the dark sky.

But peace didn't come.

In the shadows of his mind, scenes formed uninvited

And then, he was there.


 *

The door to Vikram’s apartment clicked shut, a sound of finality. The party’s din was replaced by the thick, expectant silence of their sanctuary. Sonarika’s back was against the door, her chest rising and falling with a breath she’d been holding all evening. Vikram’s body pressed into hers, his hands caging her in. His mouth found the exposed skin of her shoulder, a hot, open-mouthed kiss that drew a shaky sigh from her lips.

"I’ve been waiting all night to do that" 

He murmured, his voice a low rumble against her skin. His lips traced a searing path along her collarbone, up the column of her neck. 

"The way you looked tonight… everyone was watching you. But you were only dancing with me"

His hands slid from the door to her hips, his fingers digging into the lush flesh there through the silk. He ground his pelvis against hers, the hard ridge of his erection a blatant promise against her stomach. A soft, wanton moan escaped her, her head falling back against the wood.

"Vikram…"

He found her mouth then, kissing her with a possession that was raw and unchecked. This was no party-floor tease. This was hunger. His tongue plunged deep, tasting the champagne on her lips, claiming her. Her hands came up, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, her own need rising to meet his.

His fingers found the zip of her dress. The sound of it sliding down was obscenely loud in the quiet room. The green fabric loosened, and he pushed it from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet in a whisper of expensive silk, leaving her standing in only a strapless bra and a pair of delicate lace panties that did little to hide the dark triangle of hair beneath.

"My god, Sonarika" he breathed, his eyes dark with lust as he drank her in. 

"You are perfect"

He made quick work of his own clothes, throwing his cream jacket aside, tearing at the buttons of his blue shirt. Soon, he was just as bare, his body lean and hard against her softness. He guided her down, not to the bedroom, but onto the plush rug of the living room floor, right there amidst the framed photographs of their secret smiles and stolen weekends—a gallery of their forbidden but awakening relation.

He covered her body with his, the heat of his skin a shock against hers. His mouth found her breast, sucking one peaked nipple through the lace of her bra before tugging the cup down with his teeth to lavish the bare flesh with his tongue. She cried out, her back arching, pushing herself deeper into his mouth. Her fingers clawed at his back, urging him on. He shifted, settling between her spread thighs. He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and pulled, tearing the fragile lace without ceremony. She gasped, but it was a sound of pure arousal, of liberation. He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against her wet heat.

"I wish I could do this every night" he groaned, his forehead resting against hers. 

"I wish I never had to let you go"

Her answer was a roll of her hips, taking the first inch of him inside. 

"You can" she whispered, her voice husky with need. 

"There is no more Hemant. There’s only us now"

It was all the permission he needed. He drove into her in one deep, sure stroke, burying himself to the hilt. She gasped, a sharp, guttural sound of pleasure-pain as he filled her completely. And then he began to move.

His thrusts were not gentle. They were rigorous, possessive, each one a punctuation mark on their new beginning. The rhythm was frantic, a furious dance of flesh meeting flesh. The slap of their skin, their ragged breaths, her escalating moans—it was a symphony of their sin. His leg, braced for leverage, kicked out and connected with the nearby couch, shoving it back a few inches with every powerful thrust of his hips.

"Goa is our new beginning , a fresh start" 

He panted into her ear, his voice strained with the effort of his movement. 

"It’ll be just us. We’ll build a life there. A real life"

"Yes" 

She keened, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her entire world narrowed to the sensation of him pistoning in and out of her, hitting a spot deep inside that made her see stars. 

"Just us. Only us"

Her words, her complete and utter surrender to him, to their future, pushed him over the edge. His pace became erratic, frantic. 

"I’m going to cum, Sonarika"

"Inside me" she begged, her voice a broken plea. 

"I want to feel you. I want all of you"

With a guttural roar that was ripped from the depths of his soul, Vikram plunged deep one final time and held himself there. Hemant could almost feel the hot, pulsing release as Vikram emptied himself inside her. Sonarika’s own climax followed instantly, her body clamping around him in violent, rhythmic waves, a wordless scream torn from her lips as she shattered beneath him. They collapsed together in a slick, sweaty heap of tangled limbs, their breathing gradually slowing. Vikram shifted, not pulling away, but to kiss her, a slow, deep, post-coital kiss that spoke of tenderness and ownership. They smiled against each other’s mouths, a silent, joyous celebration.

 
*


Hemant’s eyes flew open. A cold sweat slicked his skin. The empty glass nearly slipped from his numb fingers. The city lights below blurred into a nauseating kaleidoscope. The image of their satisfied smiles, their intimate kiss, was seared onto the backs of his eyelids. It wasn’t a fantasy. It was a premonition. It was his new, waking nightmare, playing on a loop behind his eyes to the soundtrack of his own. He cursed Sonarika , cursed his fate , deep inside Michael King whispered to him , to grab his Inquisitor and walk into that Galaxy Apartment and end it , just like he ended his enemies with no mercy. But the face of Karan and Anjali , and most importantly , that little twinge in his heart. He could never do that to Sonarika. Maybe this was his punishment , for all the losses , all the people he has killed , curses from the loved ones of the people he has killed. Sonarika will forever be his suffering , no matter how much of an empire he creates , she will forever be a reminder of his failure as a husband , as a family man. His mind doubted , whether he was succumbing to the same pit Kunal has ended up to be.


"No" he muttered, shaking his head hard.

He wasn’t that man. He refused to drown in those visions. He realized this was just a new kind of nightmare that tries to haunt him , and this was the motivation he need to overcome it. His past haunted him not so long ago but he growed out of those nightmares , embracing it. Now he has to do the one thing to overcome his current nightmare , to let go Sonarika from his mind , to accept that she is not his wife or partner anymore. He needed some fresh air , a different space.


He pulled out his phone.

"Kunal" he said when the call connected. A tired voice answered. 

"Yeah?"

"You free?"

A pause. 

"Sort of. Mouni is out. She went to Ragini’s place. Same party Sonarika is at"

Silence. Hemant’s grip tightened. Same script. Different cast.

"Bring Mohit" he said quietly. 

"Come to my place. Now"

"What? Why? It’s late—"

"I’ll tell you in person"

Hemant hung up.

Half an hour later, the bell rang. Karan burst awake, thrilled to see his friend Mohit. The two kids sprinted to the living room shouting excitedly as Tara watched fondly. Kunal walked in—shoulders slumped, eyes tired, that familiar defeated expression of a man whose dignity had been tested too many times.

He lowered his voice. 

"Bro… what’s going on?"

Hemant didn’t answer immediately. He turned to Tara instead.

"Tara, I'll be stepping out with Kunal for a few hours. Please keep an eye on the boys"

She nodded earnestly. 

"Yes sir, don’t worry"

Hemant then looked at Kunal, expression turning cold and sharp.

"You want to spend tonight like a loser in your marriage?"

Kunal froze. The word stung—not vulgar, but raw, soaked in history and humiliation.

"…No" he muttered. 

"I’m tired of feeling like that"

Hemant’s eyes hardened, voice steady like steel.

"Then tonight, we don’t sit at home imagining our wives with their better halfs. We don’t let our pain control us. Tonight, we remind ourselves who we are"

Kunal blinked. 

"And what’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means we live like men. We don’t cry over people choosing someone else"

He walked toward the door, grabbing his keys.

"Come"

Kunal hesitated, confused, almost unnerved by how different Hemant seemed. Gone was the gentle, soft-spoken husband. In his place stood someone sharpened, decisive… dangerous with purpose.

"Where are we going?" he asked quietly.

Hemant stared straight ahead.

"You’ll see"

The apartment door shut behind them. Inside, two children laughed at a video game. Outside, two fathers walked into the night, not sure whether they were reclaiming themselves — or about to screw up their lives further with something reckless.


LATER THAT NIGHT AT A HOTEL


The hotel lobby shimmered like a jewel—crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and a soundtrack of quiet piano easing through the air. Hemant and Kunal entered the rooftop lounge where the city sparkled beneath them like a kingdom of burning stars. Hemant, as always, didn’t order alcohol.

"Fresh lime. No sugar"

Kunal lifted a whiskey glass. 

"Just one. I'm not trying to drown myself tonight"

They sat near the glass wall that overlooked Mumbai’s skyline—alive, indifferent, unstoppable. For once, Hemant wasn’t brooding. Just present. Calm. A soldier enjoying peace before another war. Kunal exhaled, swirling his drink.
"So… you seriously are going on business with the Mehtas?"

Hemant leaned back. 

"Thought you adored Hansraj Mehta. You used to call him your business scripture"

Kunal chuckled bitterly. 

"Yeah. Then I grew up. Every emperor has a sewer line running under his palace. And Siddharth? He’s worse. A snake with designer shoes. You sure you want to deal with him?"

"I know what he is" Hemant replied evenly. 

"And I’m prepared"

Kunal studied him. 

"You say that with a little too much confidence"

Hemant didn’t blink. 

"When you’ve been emptied by life, nothing scares you anymore. Not even sharks in suits"

Kunal nodded slowly. There it was—that steel. That quiet certainty.

"If anyone can out-maneuver the Mehtas, it’s you"

"And Pranitha?" he added suddenly. 

"You seeing her?"

Hemant’s eyebrow rose. 

"Haven’t seen her since the hospital. The world will tell us if there's anything there. I won’t force fate"

Just then—heels clicked, perfumes drifted, laughter wrapped around their table. Meghna and Rachika. Meghna smirked. 

"Well well. Look who ditched brooding at home"

Hemant exhaled sharply. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Rachika's accomodation in the city is this hotel's private suite" Meghna replied casually. 

"I was dropping her off. Saw you two and thought—why not say hello?"

Kunal blinked in surprise as Rachika greeted him warmly. Soon enough, she and Kunal slipped into easy laughter at the edge of the table—two strangers with similarities finding a common rapport in each other. Meghna took Hemant’s seat side—too natural, too deliberate.

"So" she said lightly, swirling her mocktail. 

"Double date now?"

Hemant scoffed. 

"Heh....that is probably being done by Mouni and Sonarika right now , with their boyfriends. I just brought him here so that I don't feel like a loser in my failed marriage"

Meghna sighed dramatically. 

"Well , you guys are definitely not losers anymore. I mean look—Kunal is no longer a walking humiliation. Congratulations. You resurrected him from his cuckold era"

A sharp smirk. 

"No wonder Mouni despises you"

Hemant’s jaw tightened. 

"Ironic, isn’t it? I saved him from his cuckolding. And my wife turned me into an unwilling cuckold with her actions"

His fingers drummed the table, voice low, raw.

"She’s probably wrapped around him right now. In their little apartment , probably getting pounded by him , behaving like a cheap fucking slut!!!!"

Hemant's pain pushed through. Meghna touched his arm gently, voice coated with honey and venom.

"Maybe she never deserved you. Some women don’t know how to handle strong men"

And boom—there it was.

Hemant’s eyes narrowed.

This Meghna wasn’t the same woman who once defended Sonarika like a lioness.

"You agree with me now?" his tone sharpened. 

"That’s new. You used to hate me"

Meghna blinked—caught for a split second. Then crafted a soft smile.

"I hated who you were. Soft. Passive. You reminded me of my ex Javed. Weak heart, weak spine"

She leaned slightly closer.

"But you evolved. Hardened. Matured. That softness is gone. It looks good on you"

A beat. Hemant held her gaze. Studying. Dissecting. Seeing. Her mask faltered just an inch—an invisible tremor behind her eyelashes. For the first time in her life, someone was looking through her, not at her. Hemant’s voice dropped, quiet and razor-sharp:

"So.....I am good now.....maybe there is a silver lining to this tragedy after all!"

Meghna smiled again. Perfect. Composed. But her eyes flickered—panic. Exposure. Hemant leaned back calmly. Tonight was no longer about overcoming nightmares. It was about getting some clarity. And in that moment, Hemant saw Meghna , not as Sonarika's best friend , but a more sinister presence in his life.


Rachika’s suite was a shimmering palace of velvet dbangs, warm amber lights, and the faint perfume of luxury. Laughter rolled in with them — loose, reckless, the kind that belonged to people running from something inside themselves. Kunal and Rachika sank into the plush sofa, their easy rhythm growing deeper, almost magnetic. Their laughter mixed with clinking glasses — two people rediscovering sparks they didn’t know they needed. Meghna, meanwhile, had settled opposite Hemant, eyes unfocused yet strangely sharp. There was a glow in them — not the intoxication, but a hunger. Calculation. Victory.


Hemant watched carefully. Her laughs were too loud. Her smiles too free. Her proximity too deliberate. And then the thoughts started clicking together. Every sudden girls’ night. Every excuse Sonarika threw. Every time Vikram entered the picture — Meghna’s name lingered in the background like a stain. She was everywhere in the lies. Like a ghost behind a curtain. She played a role… didn’t she? The veneer of friendship. The harmless girl-gang confidante. The soft-spoken feminist rebel.

No. This woman sitting in front of him — glass in hand, eyes burning hotter than the liquor — she was not that girl. She was something else entirely. And Michael King’s instincts whispered inside him, sharp, cold, predatory:

'She’s a puppeteer, Hemant. A player in the dark. Recognize your kind'

The truth-and-dare game lost steam as they didn't make it spicy. Laughter flattened. The night wanted sharper games.

Meghna’s fingers brushed a chess set on the table.

"Let’s play"

Rachika giggled, too far gone. 

"I’ll watch… or sleep on the floor… whichever comes first"

Hemant sat. Calm. Centered. Eyes narrowed like a hawk studying prey. Meghna smirked confidently — that same spark she always had when she believed she controlled the room. But tonight, Hemant wasn’t the mellow man she remembered. Tonight, the king was awake.

The King vs. The Puppet Master

Moves began — sharp, quick. Meghna’s queen danced early, aggressive, claiming the board like a throne. Hemant moved slowly. Deliberately. His king stepped forward. Meghna scoffed.

"Oh, come on. Already giving up the weakest piece?"

Her voice flirted around superiority, feminism, control.

"The queen" she said 

"Is the most powerful and the main player. This game reeks of patriarchy. Nothing can beat the queen"

Hemant’s laughter cut her mid-sentence — controlled, lethal.

"You misunderstand chess… and life" he murmured.

His king advanced again. Not fleeing — challenging.

"Everyone on this board is expendable except one" 

He continued softly, voice sinking like a blade in water.

"Not the queen. Not the knight , not any other warrior"

His eyes lifted and pinned her.

"The King is not a piece. He is the whole game"

Meghna’s breath trembled.

"He doesn’t hide behind anyone. He strikes , but you would never see that coming"

Her queen fell. Then her knight. Then her bishop. One move at a time — precision dismantling ego.

Check.

Check.

Check.

Meghna’s confidence cracked. Her veneer slipped. Hemant leaned in, voice quiet, devastating:

"Even when the queen dies, the war continues. Because everyone fights for the King. And the game only ends when the King wins!"

Final move.

Checkmate.

Meghna stared — stunned, disarmed, captivated by the ruthless clarity she’d never seen in him before. At that moment , she wasn't just defeated , she was meticulously submitted by his mental dominance. Hemant was no more anything like Javed , he was something she felt challenged by. A man who was playing with her power fantasy , pushing back her dominance.

Something primal surged in her — not passion, but weakness masquerading as it. The spell of power.

She lunged.

Her lips crashed into his — desperate, claiming, impulsive. The room froze. Kunal blinked. Rachika smirked. Every truth unspoken in the air shattered into chaos. Hemant did not kiss back. Did not move. Did not breathe. He simply absorbed the betrayal-echo of another woman’s lips, his eyes open, staring through her — analyzing still.

Meghna’s hand gripped his. She dragged him toward the second bedroom and locked the door. Behind them, Kunal whispered in shock,

"…did that just…?"

Rachika’s smile curled slow and wicked.

"Well… your friend is occupied. Why waste a night?"

Before Kunal could gather thought, she kissed him — and like dominoes, two paths of recklessness sealed shut behind two doors. As the sounds of clothes moving and sheets spreading echoed off to the main room. One thing was certain , whatever happens tonight , whether it is something destiny wanted to be or something catastrophic. None of their lives will ever be the same again!


PAST MIDNIGHT AT THE APARTMENT.


Karan and Mohit slept together in his room along with a deep in sleep Anjali in the adjoining bed as Tara turned off the light and calmly closed the door. As she walked to the main living room , she looked at the photos of the family on the showcases. She looked at each image with a silent stare but her eyes were locked onto Hemant. As she kept on staring , her phone rang.

Tara took the phone and trembled a little as she realized who was calling. She walked into the balcony as she attended the call.

"Hello"

On the other end of the call , miles away from Mumbai. Standing at the lawn of the Qamarvan Palace , was Daraaksh Zarir.

"Congratulations on the primary mission completion miss Tara. I will admit I had my doubts of Michael catching you"

"He is not Michael anymore Sultan. Believe it or not , he is a mellowed out version of what you believe"

"That is the first mistake Tara , underestimating this Hemant. Micheal King is the real him , and he is still breathes in that mask called Hemant Kumar"

"Well you're job is halfway done , his wife is moving away from the city to Goa , there is no hope for a reconciliation between them"

"That is good , now its the perfect time for you to earn his trust , care and attention. Do whatever you can , but at the end , have him rely on you to the point he will see you as a support"

"And then what?"

"Then , we'll start slicing. One by one , we will take out everything near and dear to him , save Karan for last. I have some special plans for that sweet boy"

Tara with a cold stare to the night sky responded.

"Jo hukum Sultan. Your ace has entered the game!!"

                                                                                                                                                                                                   END OF CHAPTER 26 

[Harry Jordan]

Story taking unexpected twists and wonderfully written plot...Cream of the cake are the conversations and emotional backdrop on every sequence.

Overall excellent episode with some character deviations that I did not like still never boring to read and always make you crave for more.

~RCF

Glad that you loved it , will try to answer some of your issues without spoiling the future plots.

1.Sonarika willing to dance with Vikram was basically her own way of evaluation of herself. When she was with him in the past , their dance was their prime connecting factor. But now , she no longer feels that connection because even in that moment , she thought about Hemant , the clarity in her makes her see how lost she was in her affair days with Vikram. It was needed to keep the drama going.

2.Hemant's "relationship" with Tamanna is basically a driving factor in Hemant not completely transitioning into Michael King. In a way , Tamanna is there in his life to remind him that not all of Hemant was a failure. In a way , Hemant behaves this way is because his own mind is making up things which is not true , based on Sonarika's actions in the past , his nightmare is bascially a forced kind of unwilling cuckoldery. Sonarika and Vikram's relationship mocks him , and his mind makes false assumptions that he was never a worthy man in bed for his wife. Which is why Tamanna is there to drive to the point that he is not at all a wimp. Plus the flamboyant side of Michael King is taking over him , which is why he is open to being physical with many women , in one of the flashback showed Hemant having a threesome with Ashnoor AND Kira , something Ashnoor initiated. It kind of shows Hemant had done adventurous things with sex in the past. In short , that loyal , caring Hemant is gone , he is more stubborn , more precise and now more open to sexual things unlike his past. In short , if Sonarika never cheated , she would be pregnant for the fourth time with Hemant LOL!

3.Actually Hemant sees Meghna as the puppet master here not as Sonarika's puppet. Because one thing he knew always about Meghna is that she was always over protective about Sonarika. She has lashed out when Sonarika was targetted , but here she herself agreed to Hemant's trash talk about Sonarika which created a doubt in Hemant. And while recapping Sonarika's each lie made Hemant see the silent involvement of Meghna behind those lies. This also comes with Michael King's experience in the past , which is how Hemant deduces that Meghna is not who she seems to be. Now whether he sleeps with her , only time will tell. Because Hemant no longer feels any moral loyalty towards Sonarika and fucking Meghna isn't going to change that. However , whatever happens in that bedroom , will be the turning point of these characters the way forward.

4.Sonarika says that in a way to not annoy Hemant further. She has already confessed multiple times that she still loves him , hell she loves him way more than before now considering she sees her truth. In a way this is her coping mechanism , she is moving to Goa. The distance between them will be wider than before and she wants to cope with a life without him around her. Her words there was her way of accepting that her life forward might no longer involve him , and she is trying to accept that reality. But it will be hard as she is falling in love with him again.

5.Tara is the trump card in this story , she will be a key player in the narrative as she will play either a big role in bringing Hemant and Sonarika together or destroying Hemant piece by piece.

6.Precisely , Sonarika's goan arc is her redemption story. Just like how Hemant changed from his kind and calm nature , Sonarika will now transform to the woman she was supposed to be before her brain injury. And there will be an interesting arc happening in Goa with her which will push for a different side of Sonarika to be explored. In other words , both Hemant and Sonarika are changing thinking they are not meant for each other , but narratively will reveal they are more compatible than before. 

7.It will definitely be interesting , because Sonarika realizing Meghna's evil intention is yet to come. She is only cautious now as she is doubtful and has suspicions regarding Meghna's involvement in her life.

I am glad people liked it. I am more interested to see how the story deepens when Pranitha gets involved , Because since the hospital episode , she was mostly absent in the story. Pranitha's return to the story will start a different lifestyle in Hemant's life. Plus their "dynamic" is something I am quiet interested about as it will bring a different vibe to the story.