[Harry Jordan]

Overall very well written chapter, It got us all hooked now so keep your promise of one chapter every weekend :) 

~RCF

1. It was needed to setup his distance towards Sonarika. Now his new nightmares is about her decisions and making up false imaginations about her.

2. I get your take on Tamanna. But I believe the details were already there of them never being serious with each other. Tamanna did say she would love to see him as a husband , but she cannot wholely because she will always have a mental connection with Dev due to Shraddha. What I see with their relation is both of them fixing each other up. Tamanna gets to be more open and eventually be open for a new relationship. And Hemant gets to see that not all of Hemant was a failure and that he can try another attempt in a peaceful life , but he doubts it as Michael is all the more a part of him and he cannot find peace unless he puts Michael King to rest for good.

3. Well the approach is more focused on Meghna rather than Hemant. Meghna is the one who initiates is because she no longer see the weak and calm Hemant that Meghna gets reminded of her past broken love Javed. Now , Hemant is no longer that man , he has transformed to a man willing to push back her power fantasy. Meghna for a dominant woman finally faces a man that is willing to go face to face. In some Psychological aspect , women who are dominant forms a deep infactuation towards a man who will challenge their power game. We will see Hemant's reaction and what transpired in that bedroom soon!

5. Nice observation but she might bring some surprises in the future!

6. Actually Sonarika's arc will be somewhat like Kangana Ranaut's Queen , where she goes to her honeymoon to find her truth. Sonarika's story in Goa will be the catalyst to become the woman she was supposed to be. Ragini and other interesting characters will bring an interesting dynamic there , and not to forget , Vikram is not exactly done in this story. His approach will be different , and this time their interactions will also be different than they usually had. But all the more , Vatika and her new job will be a new beginning for Sonarika , one where she taps into her true potential and becomes a woman that is true to herself. In many aspects , the queen Hemant wanted her to be!

7. Their feud will eventually begin , but the battle will commence some time later.


I am already halfway done with the next chapter , so no delays next week , I will most likely focus on posting chapters on weekends as that is the more comfortable time for readers.

[Harry Jordan]

@Harry, Any chance of a update this weekend?

Unfortunately no , the upcoming chapter has moderate amount of sex scenes so I need time to polish it well. Although I am somewhat done , but I believe Readers are more comfortable reading the new chapters every weekend so I will post it next weekend. I need to handle this chapter with care because there is lot of narrative elements involved , and I don't want to disappoint readers with lackluster content , the last few chapters were well recieved and I want the future chapters to have that same impact too. But I an assure you , it will be worth the wait! 

[Harry Jordan]

I was overcome by a mixture of disappointment and melancholy when Harry announced that the new chapter would not be published this weekend, 
but only the following weekend (15 November).

-----------
Demeter

Believe me I feel you , 


  I can understand sometimes when you wait for something and it isn't there. But I had to make that decision because I myself wasn't that much impressed by how the chapter turned out , the flow in the narration was disturbed and I had a feeling readers would feel that same disturbance in the chapter. Plus I had to do a lot of research to really expand Hemant and Sonarika's individual arc. Especially Sonarika's arc since it is supposed to run parallel to Hemant's rise but in a different way. Her arc is something I don't wanna screw up since my story will explore the redemption arc of a woman who committed infidelity.

So this has to be done , and I also get my fellow reader RCF's frustration too with my delays. Which is why I've made the decision to stop posting on random days and instead focus on weekends. I couldn't comply to last weekend but this weekend won't be a dissappointment , but rather will be worth the wait as the chapter has developed quiet well.

[Harry Jordan]

UPDATE AND ANNOUNCEMENT

So dear readers , 

Chapter 27 will be released either tonight or tomorrow night , I had to delay its release because I wanted to uphold its quality. Plus I am shifting my place of residence this weekend so I might have trouble getting access to the Internet to upload which is why I am giving the readers a heads up. Lots of sex and sexual stuff involved along with some cool story setting sequence for the conflict in the future. And some of you may have noticed that I have changed the title of the story a little. Initially I planned it as a two parter , but lately I've been struggling with the part 2 of the story with many ideas not exactly clicking. So this story will no longer be a two parter and instead will conclude in a single part itself. As for how many chapters left , I have no idea , we are still in the halfway journey of the story so there is still a lot to go through. I have already begun reworking the climax of this story so that I can get the desired ending I want. Regardless its still a long way to go so for now , lets just go along with the flow for the coming chapters.

Now for the announcement part , with a little help from AI , I've been developing another story. Now this one is much  , much different from the current one. Because first off , its a first person story , told through the perspective of a husband. A slowburn story of a man who has a kink for Voyeurism , its not exactly a cuckold story , but there will be elements of cuckolding in it. And compared to Love Sex and War , this story will dial it a little down with the cinematic approach and bring a more realistic tone. Stating it again , there is some cuckolding elements but the story will be more about voyeurism rather than humiliation porn. I only started doing this as a pass time , but honestly I think I am starting to see that I have some knack in story-telling LOL!

Very soon , I will start that thread but for now , I will focus on Love Sex and War and make sure readers enjoy each coming chapters in the future!

       From Your's Truly

 HARRY JORDAN 

[Harry Jordan]

No 2nd Part  

I dont know how to feel about it . Will the actual length of the story get alter , shorter version than you planned initially or You are just merging the both Part into 1 ?


Again Harry , BIG FAN . Thanks for the Update . 

Thanks for this wonderful piece of Literature   . It has been 11 month and story just keep on going more interesting and more artistically beautifully crafted . Every chapter just keep on reaching new heights . Specially the last chapter was greatly written . It shows that you had utilized the whole 14+ days , It felt concise and to the point and more polished than many of the chapters . 

No need to worry , I am not ditching Part 2 , just merging part 1 and 2 and make it a coherrent plot. I made that decision consciously because I had trouble writing new scenarios for Part 2 and I had trouble not being able to use some characters for that part. Which is why , I am merging it so that we can have an epic climax and the characters stand out more. Initially my plans was to have part 2 to feature more Hemant and turn Sonarika into a cameo in the end for a major plot twist , but I wasn't willing to let go Sonarika that easily. Instead I have merged part 1 and part 2 thus have Hemant and Sonarika's own conflicts interlap and eventually culminate in a dramatic finale.


As for the new story announcement , it is something I have just started. I don't intend to post something now as I wanna focus more on the current story and make sure Love Sex and War gets its eventual ending. This new project is much different from my current one. It will be a first person story about a man who has a kink of voyeurism and a little bit of cuckolding without the humiliation parts. And unlike the current story , this story will be a bit dialled down and some aspects of realism will be present. It is still too early for me to tell more , but for now , lets focus on Love Sex and War and see how this story culminates!

[Harry Jordan]

REASON FOR DELAY

 Hello dear readers , 

            I know a lot of you were looking forward for the next update. But circumstances resulted in something terrible.

Like I said in my previous update post , I was moving my place of residence and was planning to post the chapter once the shift was done. As I was helping with the shift , I guess I did something way above my body can handle. While moving a heavy furniture , I slipped and long story short. I fell down through two levels of stairs. Though in the end the injury wasn't fatal , I was literally passed out from that fall. And what followed was worrysome as for the first time in my life , X-Rays were taken of my body. Yesterday , thankfully the results came and there was zero fractures , though there is some minor flesh wounds , overall its not at all anything serious. I am bed ridden while writing this now and in a way its a boon , because now I get to focus more on the story. However , mentally I am a bit shaken from that whole ordeal and I need some time to overcome this. In a way , this story writing is kind of my own therapy right now. I will post the next chapter soon , but I cannot give you an exact date or time. I will post a simple message on the day I post the chapter so that the readers are aware. I know a lot of you were looking forward to it and this unfortunate thing happened. Guess somebody jinxed me for ruining No Nut November! 

For now , I am recovering well , though not exactly functioning completely. Guess this brings a good opportunity for me to further flesh out my stories for the future. You guys don't need to worry , unlike some stories , I won't let Love Sex and War be an unfinished story.

I will let you all know when the next chapter comes , hopefully sooner since I had already completed it. So expect it very soon and please friendly advice to everyone. Only do chores that you are capable of doing , don't overwork your body. I learned a hard lesson about it.

    From Yours Truly And Recovering 

        HARRY JORDAN 

[Harry Jordan]

Chapter 27 is coming in few hours. Hope you guys like it!

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                            CHAPTER 27

The restaurant’s walls were washed in amber light, candles flickering against crystal glasses, waiters gliding silently across marble floors. The group—Ragini, Mouni, Sagar, Gayathri, and Tejas—filled a long central table, their laughter and chatter rising like soft music.


Sonarika and Vikram, however, were seated at a smaller table near the veranda—private, quiet, too intimate for Sonarika’s comfort.

Ragini leaned close before they separated.

"I hope you know what you are doing Sonarika" she whispered.

Sonarika squeezed her hand.

"I know, Ragini. Trust me. I have no intentions like before"

Ragini nodded but her eyes didn’t lighten.

"Please be careful"

The waiter set down their plates—her grilled fish, his butter chicken—and withdrew discreetly. Vikram folded his hands, studying her with quiet longing.

"I’m glad we could sit alone"

"Vikram… you shouldn’t bind yourself to me anymore" She inhaled deeply.

"Why not?" His brow creased. 

"Because I betrayed you" she said, voice trembling. 

"Just as I betrayed Hemant. I don’t feel that connection anymore. The relationship we had… it fed my sickness, my hypersexuality. Therapy showed me how unhealthy it all was"

Vikram’s expression softened, stubborn hope glowing behind his eyes.

"You believe it was sickness. But my feelings weren’t. I loved you, Sonarika"

She shook her head gently.

"You loved that version of me. And that version… she’s gone"

"Then I’ll adjust" Vikram whispered. 

"If you’ve changed, I’ll change too"

"Vikram" she said firmly. 

"I have evolved Vikram , I found my true self. And you , you won’t connect with the woman I’ve reclaimed. That flame…..it fed my sickness. It burned me. I don’t want it again. Not with anyone"

He swallowed—hurt, but not defeated.

"Even if you don’t feel anything now… I do. I always will. And I’ll try to be the man you can connect to. Eventually"

She looked at him with sad gratitude.

"You must walk away. Before you regret chasing someone who will never return the feelings"

He shook his head.

"I won’t regret you. Ever"

Silence stretched between them like a thin, strained wire. Then he dropped the revelation:

"I already have a hotel in Goa long before I built one in Jabalpur. I’ll be there often. You won’t be far"

"Vikram… no. I told you—" Her eyes widened—quiet panic.

"It won’t be like before" he said quickly. 

"No chasing. No… sexual expectations. Just time. Friendship. A chance to understand each other again. If something grows, it grows. If not… I’ll still be there when you need me"

She looked away, overwhelmed.

"The truth is, I don’t feel anything like that anymore"

"And that’s okay" Vikram said softly. 

"Let this be a fresh start"

Dinner ended. They rejoined their friends near the entrance. Ragini wrapped her arm around Sonarika’s, her voice bright:

"Ready for the sleepover?"

"Yes. Let’s go" Sonarika smiled. 

She turned to Vikram. 

"Good night"

He stepped back respectfully, hands in pockets, posture casual.

"Good night, Sonarika. Whatever happens… no pressure. No expectations. Just cordial friendship"

She nodded, grateful but conflicted.

"And this time" Vikram added gently. 

"I will get to know the real you , and I will relate to you as a person, not as a desire"

Before she could respond, Ragini tugged her away—gently but with purpose—toward the waiting cars. As she walked, a heaviness pressed into her chest. Vikram, despite everything, still looked at her with hope. Hope she could no longer return. And that guilt ate at her. But beneath it all, beneath the tangled mess of old wounds and new beginnings, one truth pulsed quietly, stubbornly, painfully:

There was only one man she would miss when she moved to Goa.

Only one man she still loved without admitting it aloud.

Only one man her heart refused to let go of.

Hemant.

The man she hurt. The man she lost. The man who walked out of her send-off like he didn’t care—

Yet still held a thread of her healing body and heart.


SOMETIME LATER AT RAGINI'S APARTMENT



Ragini’s apartment was warm and dim, scented with jasmine candles. Laughter echoed faintly from the living room where the girls opened snacks, poured soft drinks, and prepared for their night of harmless fun.

But Sonarika stood apart near the window, watching the city lights blur behind the glass. She held a cup of tea between her hands, letting the warmth anchor her—but her mind drifted far, far away. Memories rose like waves. Not forced. Not summoned. Just… returning to her, one after another.


She saw herself in a breezy white dress on a Goa beach—only months after her wedding. Sunlight glinted off the water. Hemant’s hand was in hers, shy but certain. He wasn’t the titan he is now. He was gentle. Laughing easily. He held her sandals because she wanted to run barefoot into the waves.

That trip was the first time she felt the world shrink to just the two of them.

The memory shifted—their living room, a Bollywood melody playing softly. She held his hands, trying to guide him, trying not to laugh too loudly at his stiff steps.

"Left foot, Hemant… left foot— no, not right—"

He tripped, nearly falling into her, and they both burst into laughter. He kissed her cheek awkwardly afterward, embarrassed and in love. She touched her cheek now. The warmth was long gone.


Then came the boat—floating lanterns on the water, fireflies dancing in the dark. Their honeymoon suite was surrounded by nothing but silence and moonlit ripples. Her wedding bangles jingled softly as she rested her head on his chest. He played with her hair absentmindedly, a habit he formed without realizing. And later that night— Their most passionate and intimate act. Sweet. Nervous. Full of hope.

He believed Karan was conceived that night. She still held on to the Kitchen fucking memory and stayed with it. But those were the days where her life was full of spark.


The memory faded into the scent of prenatal oils, hospital checkups, and swollen feet. She had been moody, exhausted, frightened. But Hemant? He was perfect. He stopped all extra shifts to stay home. He cooked. He cleaned. He massaged her legs when they cramped. He stayed awake through her midnight cravings. He read pregnancy books to understand every ache.

"Tell me what you need" he had said.

"And I’ll do it before you say it twice"

She closed her eyes now, swallowing the ache. Karan’s Birth The strongest memory arrived with a sting. She lay tired, trembling, overwhelmed—holding their newborn son. Their families celebrated outside, voices ringing with joy.

But Hemant…

He didn’t go to Karan first. He went to her. He cupped her face gently, tears in his eyes.

"You did it" he whispered.

"You brought him into this world. I’m so proud of you"

He kissed her forehead with reverence. Only then did he hold his son. That moment crystallized everything— The love he had for her, The devotion, The purity of that early life. And she shattered it.

A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it quickly. Ragini hadn't seen; she hoped no one did. Those memories were treasures— warmth wrapped in grief, love wrapped in loss. If time had a rewind button… She would go back to every moment. She would hold him tighter. She would delete every trace of Vikram. She would protect that life with both hands.

But time only moved forward. And her mistakes could only be carried, not erased. There was no more Hemant for her. No more of his warmth, No more of his hand in her hair, No more of his tired smile when he came home late, No more of the man whose heart she once called home.

Only memories.

Memories and consequences.

She took a deep breath and looked at her reflection in the window—older, wiser, lonelier… but determined. Karan. Her son. Her anchor. She might have failed as a wife— But she would not fail as a mother.

Her new life in VATIKA…Her journey of healing…Her work…Her discipline…All of it would be for him. To raise him well. To give him stability. To give him love unbroken by adult mistakes. No matter how shattered she felt inside, she would not let those cracks touch her child. She whispered softly.

"Whatever happens… Karan will have the best version of me"

In the quiet of the night, surrounded by giggles and gossip she barely heard, Sonarika hugged her memories close— Not to revive them. But to honor what they once meant. And to finally accept that the man who starred in all of them…was no longer hers.

But he would always, always be the love she remembers.



The women dialled down. The colorful party wears were quickly shed, replaced by an assortment of cozy pajamas and slinky nightgowns. They’d danced to thumping music until the downstairs neighbor complained, then collapsed into a heap of limbs and lyrics, singing off-key to old Bollywood classics. It was Mouni, ever the skeptic, who had yawned and declared the night was winding down.

That’s when Ragini had pounced, producing a bottle of amber liquor and a empty wine bottle. 

"Not so fast. We’re playing by my rules tonight. Truth or Dare. Dares are alcohol-based. You refuse a dare, you take a shot. But the truths…" 

She said, her eyes glinting with mischief 

"…are strictly carnal. Your deepest, naughtiest sexual histories. No holds barred"

The game had begun, and the revelations had flowed faster than the liquor. Ragini herself had been the first victim of the spin. Mouni teasingly remarked.

"You reap what you sow lady"

"Ugghhh....fine....ask me"

"Hmm...tell us the best sexual experience in your life"

Ragini smiled as her face brightened. She eventually started her narration.

"Okay......it was a week after my divorce was finalised. I was frequenting a beach restaurant on a daily. That is where I met him , Paolo , he was a french national , a painter. Came to Goa for some artwork. We ended up having a conversation , and that conversation led to a rapport and frequent visits in other places in Goa. And then one day at a beachside pub , he initiated it , kissing me deeply. I felt all kinds of butterflies in my stomach , plus I was still fuming from my divorce and that bastard that was my once husband. But my god , when I saw Paolo's cock , I felt it was worth it. I couldn't fit it all in my mouth but I deepthroated him hard. The kind of fucking he gave me that night , it was something celestial level. He gave me that Johnny Sins treatment!"

All the girls laughed at Ragini's last remark as they continued the bottle challenge. It eventually landed on Mouni. Ragini put up the question to her.

"Tell us the tale of how you lost your vriginity Mouni?"

Mouni raised her eyebrow as she grinned and then started.

"It was my second college year. There was a boy who every girl fancied including myself. His name was Rahul , a college rockstar. You know , long hair , charming face , impressive physique. But there was this bitch who called herself my friend , Tanya. She too wanted to get it with Rahul despite having a boyfriend Mahesh, who was a geek and a nerd. Eventually on a college annual day , Tanya broke it up with Mahesh to try her luck with Rahul. I ended up consoling Mahesh who was broken. I pitied him , he was a decent boy with nice mindset. Soon one thing led to another , and I slept with him. And Mahesh became the man to take my virginity , and dare I say , he was only nerd from the outside , but when it came to sex , he was something else. And he was packing in his trunks which really took me to a higher existence plain. And for poor Tanya , she became the loser in that scenario. Turns out  Rahul was a closeted chauvinist and she had to endure a toxic relationship for the next two years until they eventually broke up after college. At the end of the day I was the lucky one!"

Mouni giggled as she recollected those memories. The next bottle turn was on Neha as she narrated an embarrassing story.

"So I had a patient that came to me. He was a young man , having problems with confidence and assurance. I worked with him , building some workshop with him. One day , he ended up getting adventurous and tried to kiss me. I retorted and stopped him , telling him that he was reckless by mistake. He stopped coming and I felt disappointed. Then a week later on that weekend , I hooked up with a man on a pub and we had a one night stand. He was slightly older but his actions will put even the youngest men to shame. That morning as I went to his kitchen wearing just his shirt , I was shocked to see the young man there. Turns out the old guy was the man's father. He looked at me and said just one word , 'reckless' , and since then I've stopped doing random hook ups"

Everyone laughed at her awkward story. But it also loosened the moment between the ladies. Eventually the bottle landed on Sonarika as Ragini prepared her question.


"What is your favorite sex position? And don't you dare tell me its missionary"

"Hmm..." Sonarika pretended to think as she giggled.

"Come on Sonarika....spill some bold truth....what is your favorite sex position?"

Sonarika sighed and smiled and responded.

"Well , its the Flat Iron.......the Hot Seat.....and the Pearly Gates!"

All the women were stunned listening to Sonarika as she described the sex positions by its name. They were definitely not beginners positions

"Wow , Sonarika. I didn't knew you were this knowledgable about sex positions"

"It was recent knowledge actually. Vikram , he had a chart of different sex positions pasted on his bedroom , every day we would explore a new one during our affair days. It was a carnal class of pleasure and passion"

She wasn’t just listing positions; she was reliving them. Her eyes lost focus as she spoke. 

"The flatiron… he’d press my shoulders down into the bed, my ass in the air. He’d enter me from behind, so deep, but that wasn’t it. He’d reach one hand around to pinch my nipples. The combined pressure, inside and out… I would cum almost instantly. It was… efficient"

She took a sip of wine, her lips staining darker. 

"The hotseat was for slow end days of the week. I’d straddle him, reverse, so I could watch us in the mirror. He’d guide my hips, a slow, grinding circle. I’d control the depth, rocking back onto him until I could feel him in my stomach. I’d watch his hands squeeze my breasts, watch my own face contort, and it was like watching the most erotic film starring… me"
 

Ragini’s face had fallen slightly. She’d hoped for a story about Hemant, Sonarika’s husband. 

"So Vikram was the best, then? The great awakener?"

"No" Sonarika said sharply, the word a crack of ice. 

"That’s not what I said. He was a fantastic fuck, Ragini. The best I’d ever had. Physically. He made my body do things I didn’t know it could. But that’s all it was. A physical reaction"

Sonarika continued.

"What I had with Vikram was definitely impressive sex. But I no longer see it as an awakening , but rather my descend to a darker path. Hemant is the one that guided me , and in the end , his sex was the truly healing factor of my life. If it wasn't for him , I would've succumbed to this sickness long ago. Even the best orgasm I had is still with Hemant and whether you like it or not , it was missionary with him. And the truth is , whatever I had with Vikram , I understand it now that I can do those same things with Hemant if I wanted. The sad part is I was too late to see it"

All the women noticed the sadness of Sonarika as her eyes went wet. She revealed.

"Lately , I've been having this fantasy. Something that has stemmed from watching my hot husband getting off the bathroom often in just a towel. I desire to have him fuck me in the stand and deliver sex position. I loved our shower sessions. It was the only place that gave us some privacy in that apartment. God I loved those wet mornings!"

Ragini smiled seeing how Sonarika glitters when she talks about Hemant. 

"There is also something kinky we did"

"Go ahead.....reveal it to us"

Sonarika was hesitent to reveal it but eventually she said a word and everyone was amazed.

"Breastfeeding"

The ladies smiled as Mouni chimed in with a justification.

"That’s natural, Sonarika. Every mother feels that. The nipples are erogenous zones, after all"

"No, it’s not that" Sonarika said, her voice gaining a little strength, a confessional momentum. 

"It started before I was a mother. When I was five months pregnant with Karan" 

She looked around the circle, seeing only rapt attention. 

"Hemant… he was so nervous about having sex. Terrified he’d hurt me or the baby. The desire was there, I could see it in his eyes, but he was holding back so tightly" 

She wrapped her arms around herself, a self-soothing gesture. 

"One night, I was so… aching for him. I took his hand and guided his mouth to my breast. I was already leaking a little. I told him it would all be okay. And he… he drank"

A stunned silence fell.

"And?" Ragini prompted, her voice barely a breath.

"And I had an orgasm!" Sonarika said simply, a shiver running through her at the memory. 

"Just from that" 

The sensation flooded back to her now, the hot, wet pull of his mouth, the shocking, electric jolt of pleasure that arced straight from her nipple to her core, the way her back had arched off the bed completely without her permission. 

"He wasn’t into it at first, thought it was strange. But he saw what it did to me. After that, he’d worship them. For hours. That became our seduction. I’d just… tweak my cleavage, or let him glimpse a lace edge, and that was it. He was mine"

The raw intimacy of the confession left the room quiet for a moment, each woman lost in her own interpretations of the image.

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to an intense, hushed tone. 

"Vikram gave me orgasms. But Hemant… Hemant consummated me. He planted his seed in me and we made a person, a beautiful, brilliant boy. That feeling… of being so full of him, of us, of creating a life… that’s a bond no affair, no matter how passionate, can ever break or replicate. He is Karan’s father. And for that, and for the love I still have for him that’s somehow grown through all this mess… he will always be my best lover"

The room was silent, the raw vulnerability of the confession leaving no room for jokes or follow-up dares. Ragini simply reached out and squeezed Sonarika’s hand, a silent acknowledgment of the complicated, painful truth.


Ragini’s next question was gentle but precise, a surgeon’s scalpel. 

"Then why, Sonarika? Why did you dance with Vikram tonight? In front of everyone? In front of Hemant?"

Tears welled in Sonarika’s eyes instantly, brilliant and painful. 

"I wasn't expecting Hemant to come there after everything , and besides.....I wanted to know" 

She choked out. 

"I needed to feel if there was any connection left. Any spark from the affair that blew up my life" 

A single tear traced a path down her cheek. 

"And there was nothing. Nothing. It felt empty. Hollow. Dancing with him just made me see the whole thing for what it was—a reckless, stupid sin. It cost me my peace. It cost me my home. It cost me him"

She broke then, the composure she’d held all evening shattering. Ragini was there in an instant, pulling her into a fierce, supportive hug, rocking her gently as the other women made soft, comforting noises.

After a few minutes, the storm of sobs subsided. Sonarika pulled back, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, her voice raw but clearer. 

"The worst part is… I still love him. And now… now he’s this… this forbidden fruit" 

She let out a wet, shaky laugh. 

"Have you seen him recently? The way he’s been handling himself, that new confidence? It drives me wild. I… I’ve been relieving myself lately" 

She confessed, the admission leaving her in a rush, 

"Thinking only of him. Of his hands. Of his mouth on my breasts. But I know I can’t have him. I hurt him too much"

The heavy, sensual weight of her confession settled over the group. The playful energy of the game was gone, replaced by a thick, molten tension. The truths were no longer stories from the past; they were live wires sparking in the present. Ragini looked at Sonarika, then slowly scanned the faces of the other women, her eyes dark and thoughtful in the candlelight. The silence stretched, filled only by the faint sound of traffic far below


The moment stretched, thick with unspoken emotions, until Neha finally cleared her throat. 

"Well… I think we all need another drink after that"

As glasses were refilled and the tension began to dissipate into a more somber, reflective mood, Mouni leaned over and murmured to Sonarika. 

"This stand and deliver fantasy… you should tell him. You really should"


SOME TIME LATER


The world swam back into focus, a haze of vanilla-scented candle smoke and the sharp, lingering taste of whiskey. Sonarika’s head throbbed, a dull, rhythmic ache that pulsed behind her eyes. She was lying on a soft mattress, the cool cotton of a sheet tangled around her legs. The living room was dark now, the candles extinguished, the only light a pale silver streak of moonlight filtering through the window.


A warm, solid weight pressed against her back, accompanied by the soft, steady rhythm of deep breathing. Mouni. Sound asleep, one arm thrown carelessly across Sonarika’s waist, her lithe body radiating the heat of deep slumber and one too many drinks. Ragini must have finally called an end to the night, shepherding her tipsy friends to bed.


A deep, aching loneliness coiled in Sonarika’s belly, sharper than the headache. The memory of her confession, of the overwhelming desire for Hemant, laid her bare all over again. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will herself to sleep, to escape the hollow feeling.

Then, she felt it.

A shift in the air. A presence.

Her eyes fluttered open. A figure stood silhouetted in the moonlight by the door. Tall, broad-shouldered, a towel slung low around his hips. The faint, clean scent of his shower gel—sandalwood and bergamot—drifted across the room, cutting through the stale party air. His scent.

Hemant.

Her breath hitched. This wasn’t real. It couldn't be. He was a forbidden fantasy, a ghost from a life she’d shattered. Yet, her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, hopeful drumbeat. The towel was the one she knew so well, the deep blue one he always used after his morning shower, the fabric worn soft from years of use.

He moved toward the bed with that quiet, confident gait she’d ached for. The moonlight caught the hard planes of his chest, the newly defined muscles of his abdomen that had been driving her wild from a distance. He looked like a dream, a vision woven from her most desperate desires.

He didn’t say a word. He never did in these moments. He simply reached the bedside and looked down at her, his gaze a physical caress in the semi-darkness. His eyes, dark and intense, held none of the anger or betrayal of the real world. They held only a deep, smoldering hunger. For her.

He lowered himself onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Mouni, lost in her own drunken oblivion, didn’t stir. His hand, warm and so familiar, came up to cradle her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin with a tenderness that made her want to weep. He leaned down, and his mouth found hers.

It was a kiss of pure, unadulterated longing. Soft at first, a gentle exploration, a silent question. She answered it with a soft, desperate moan, her lips parting for him. His tongue slid against hers, tasting of mint and him, and it was everything. It was the kiss she’d been replaying in her mind for months, the connection she thought she’d lost forever. Her hands came up, her fingers sliding into his still-damp hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until she was dizzy with it.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a path of fire down her jaw, her neck. He nuzzled the sensitive spot just below her ear, and she shuddered, a full-body tremor of need. His hands were on her now, sliding the thin strap of her camisole down her shoulder, his mouth following the path of his fingers. He kissed the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin.

He pulled the sheet down, baring her to the waist. The cool night air pebbled her nipples an instant before his mouth closed over one. A broken cry escaped her lips. Oh god. It was exactly as she remembered, as she’d fantasized. The hot, wet suction, the skillful flick of his tongue, the gentle scbang of his teeth that sent electric jolts straight to her core. She arched her back, pressing her breast deeper into his mouth, her fingers tightening in his hair.

"Yes....Yes.....Ahh....Ahhhh.....Don’t stop"

He worshipped her breasts as if they were the only thing that mattered in the world, lavishing equal attention on each one, sucking and licking until she was writhing beneath him, her hips making small, involuntary circles against the mattress. The loneliness was gone, burned away by a rising inferno of pure sensation. This was her Hemant. The one who knew her body better than she knew it herself.

His hand slid down her trembling stomach, past the waistband of her thin sleep shorts, his fingers seeking the heat between her legs. She was already soaked, her arousal a slick, aching proof of how much she wanted this phantom, this dream. His fingers found her clit, and he circled it slowly, expertly, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure.

"Hemant" she gasped, her voice a ragged whisper. 

"Please......take me honey...."

He understood. He always did. He hooked his fingers into her shorts and panties, and she lifted her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs and discard them. Then he was moving, his body settling between her thighs. The rough terrycloth of his towel brushed against her inner thighs, a tantalizing friction. He was still wearing it.


He kissed her again, deeply, as he positioned himself at her entrance. She could feel the thick, hard length of him pressing against her, hot even through the towel. He was hard, pulsing and yearning for her like he always did and the anticipation of him filling her was an agony of pleasure. He pushed forward, and the towel provided a maddening, delicious barrier, the textured fabric rubbing against her sensitive folds as he pressed into her.


It was a slow, impossibly deep penetration. He filled her completely, stretching her, claiming her in a way that felt more real than anything in her waking life. She cried out, her nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even deeper. He began to move, a slow, rhythmic rocking that was pure, unadulterated ecstasy.


Each thrust was a perfect, glorious friction. The towel, now soaked with her arousal, became an instrument of torture and bliss, its rough texture amplifying every sensation. He built the pace slowly, masterfully, each movement calculated to unravel her. He murmured her name against her lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps that mirrored her own.


"I’ve missed you" Sonarika confessed, the words a ghost in the dark room. 

"I've missed us.....doing this!"

Tears of joy and desperate longing welled in her eyes. This was the connection. This was what she’d thrown away. Her body climbed higher and higher, teetering on the edge of an abyss of pleasure so profound it felt spiritual. She could feel the tension coiling tightly in her belly, a spring wound to its breaking point.

"I’m going to cum!" she sobbed, her body trembling uncontrollably beneath his. 

"Hemant, I’m CUMMING!!!!"

He drove into her one last, perfect time, hitting a spot so deep it stole the air from her lungs. The climax exploded through her, a silent, blinding supernova that shattered her into a million pieces. Wave after wave of pure, undiluted pleasure wracked her body, her inner muscles clenching around him in frantic, pulsing waves of release. She saw stars behind her eyelids, her entire universe narrowing to the exquisite sensation of him buried inside her, the source of her absolute completion.

She floated there, in that blissful, weightless space, waiting for the final, grounding punctuation of his own release. Waiting to feel the hot, liquid proof of his pleasure flooding into her.

But it never came.

The warmth of his body vanished. The weight on the mattress lifted. The scent of sandalwood faded.

Sonarika’s eyes flew open.

The room was empty. The space beside her was cold. Mouni still snored softly beside her, undisturbed.

A dream. A hallucination. A cruel, beautiful trick played by a drunk and lonely heart.

The aftermath of her powerful orgasm was still thrumming through her, a bittersweet echo in the silent darkness. Her body was slick with sweat and her own arousal, but the bed beside her was empty. A sigh, heavy with a profound and aching loss, escaped her lips. She curled onto her side, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

'Finally Hemant, you're in my dreams. And even in my dreams, you give me the best fucking of my life'

Sonarika thought, the words a silent prayer into the night. A single, hot tear traced a path down her temple and into her hairline. She closed her eyes, the ghost of his touch still tingling on her skin, and let the deep, empty silence of the room swallow her whole.

                                                                                                                                                                                                              (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER CONTD)

AT RACHIKA'S HOTEL SUITE



The room was dim, the curtains half-drawn, the city lights slipping through in pale silver stripes. Meghna lay across the bed, fully dressed but deeply unconscious—breathing unevenly, her hair sprawled over the pillow in a careless tangle.

Hemant sat in the armchair near her feet, elbows on his knees, hands folded. He stared at her. Not with desire. Not with judgment. But with a cold, unsettling curiosity.

How had she gone from scorning him…to desiring him? From insulting him…to collapsing in his bed? She once declared he wasn’t man enough for Sonarika. She once said he was Sonarika's biggest mistake. She once insulted him for being a 'beta' man. And tonight she tried to kiss him.

Why the sudden change? Why the sudden approval? Why the sudden desire?

Hemant watched her sleeping form—so peaceful, so untrustworthy. His instincts, sharpened by loss and betrayal, whispered:

'People don’t change overnight. But manipulators reveal themselves'

And for the first time, he began to suspect that Meghna wasn’t a bystander in his ruined marriage.

She was a thread…woven through every lie.

Hemant stood, slipped out of the room, and closed the door gently behind him. The suite’s living room was dimly lit, with only the bedside lamps and neon city glow. From the other bedroom, muffled sounds filtered through—Rachika’s moans, Kunal’s grunts, occasional thumps on the wall.

Hemant shook his head with a faint half-smile.

"Well done, Kunal" he murmured.

"At least someone is unbroken tonight"

The rhythmic thumping from the adjacent hotel room was a relentless, mocking metronome. Thump… thump-thump… thump. Each impact was underscored by a faint, feminine cry that was unmistakably Rachika’s. Hemant sank deeper into the plush hotel suite couch, the sounds of his friend Kunal’s successful night a stark contrast to his own.

The thumping was clearer , more intimate, each moan a tiny dagger. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration coiling tight in his gut. The sudden, jarring vibration in his pocket was a shock. He pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face in the dark. The caller ID made his breath hitch. 

Pranitha Mehta.

Without a second thought, his thumb swiped to answer. The screen resolved into the face of the woman who had haunted him for weeks. She was backlit by soft lights of a luxurious hotel room—Amsterdam, he remembered—and her raven-black hair was tousled. She wore a simple, crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to hint at the swoop of her collarbones.

"Well, hello there, handsome" 

She said, her voice a warm, familiar melody that clashed with the grunts echoing from down the hall.

"Pranitha" His own voice was rough, unused. 

"This is a surprise"

Her sharp eyes, always so perceptive, darted across her screen, taking in the details behind him. 

"That doesn’t look like your apartment. A bit too… luxurious for your minimalist tastes"

"That's because its a hotel suite" he admitted, leaning back against the couch. 

"I’m on a double date"

He saw it then, the subtle shift in her expression. A slight tightening around her full lips, a flicker of something wounded in her dark eyes. 

"A date? I see. And here I was, thinking our kiss in that hospital was the start of something"

A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. 

"You disappeared to another continent. What was I supposed to think? You kissed me and then… poof. The great Pranitha Mehta, vanishing act complete"

"My obligations are not always my choice, Hemant" 

She said, her voice softening, losing its teasing edge. 

"You know the weight of my family’s name. But I need you to know, I seriously considered missing that flight. I wanted to stay with you that night" 

She paused, looking down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. 

"So… is she nice? Your date?"

"She’s passed out drunk on the bed" He stated flatly. 

"And I have a rule about that"

A genuine, relieved smile touched her lips. 

"A man of principles. Even on a disappointing night. I admire that" 

Her gaze turned smoky, intent. 

"Tell me, Hemant. Have you ever had phone sex before?"

The question, so direct and sudden, sent a jolt straight to his core. He could feel a blush heating his neck. 

"Can’t say that I have. Not really my style"

"Mmm" she purred, the sound vibrating through the speaker. 

"Then I’ll just have to make up for leaving you hanging. It’s the least I can do"

It was only then that Hemant’s brain processed what his body had already noticed. The white shirt. The way it dbangd over her… and the absence of anything else underneath. The hem hit her mid-thigh, but there was no tell-tale line of shorts or pants. She’s wearing only the shirt.

"You’re noticing, aren’t you?" she whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. 

"Just the shirt. I’ve been thinking about you all day and in this night"

She shifted, and the fabric gaped, offering a breathtaking glimpse of the soft curve of one breast, the peak of a smooth nipple before she let it fall closed again. Hemant’s mouth went dry.

"Let’s play a game" she murmured.

"If I had stayed that night, in that sterile hospital room… would you have dared to fuck me?"

The memory of that night—the pain, the anger, the raw grief—surged back. 

"I was in a bad place, Pranitha. Hurting. I wouldn’t have been gentle. It’s better that we didn’t"

"I don’t mind a little roughness" 

She breathed, her lips parting. Her tongue darted out to wet them. 

"Tell me. What do you like?"

"Like what?"

"Like things you love doing while having sex.....favorite sex position"

"I don't know....I am not exactly that knowledgable in sex Pranitha....I let the mood dictate the sex..."

Hemant admitted, the confession torn from him.

"Then our mood will be quiet.......enticing!" Her hand drifted down, out of the camera’s view. 

"What do you like about me?"

"Your body" he said without hesitation, the words blunt and honest. 

"It’s… a perfect, feminine specimen. It would shame even the best actresses in Bollywood"

A throaty, delighted laugh escaped her. 

"Such a poet. Okay. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Let me see it, Hemant. I want to see your dick"

His heart hammered against his ribs. 

"Pranitha… I…"

"Please" The single word was a whisper, a seduction in itself. 

"I’ve been so alone. Let me see what I’ve been dreaming about"

Swallowing his nervousness, his fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, then the button of his jeans. He shifted the phone’s camera, angling it down. The cool air of the suite hit his skin as he freed his erection, thick and already leaking, holding the phone so she could see.

For a long moment, she was silent, just staring. Her breath hitched audibly. 

"Oh…"

"Well?" he prompted, his voice strained.

"It’s a beautiful dick, Hemant" she finally said, her voice husky with want. 

"It looks like it would feel incredible to swallow. To ride"

"Maybe you can, when you get back to Mumbai" 

Hemant groaned, the image she painted searing his mind.

"I’m thinking about moving that timeline up" 

Pranitha moaned. In one fluid motion, she shrugged off the white shirt, tossing it aside, revealing her glorious, nude body to him completely. She rolled onto her back, the camera angling down to show her hand sliding between her legs. 

"I’m touching myself, Hemant. Thinking of you. Jerk off for me"

"It feels… awkward" 

He admitted, though his hand was already wrapping around his length, giving a tentative stroke.

"Don’t think of it as your hand" she instructed, her voice a sultry command. 

"Imagine it’s me. It’s my pussy. My sweet, delicate, desperate pussy that you’re stretching so deep" 

Her fingers worked between her legs, and he could see the slick gleam on her skin. 

"I haven’t been with a man since I met you. Only women. I’ve been the one fucking them, with a strap-on. Because I am infactuated by you, Hemant. Of all the things we can do with each other!"

Her words were a catalyst. His awkwardness vanished, replaced by a raw, primal need. His fist began moving in earnest, a tight, steady rhythm matching the filthy, wet sounds coming from her end of the call.

"I want you to take me from behind, from the top , from the side , EVERYWHERE!" 

Pranitha confessed, her back arching. 

"I want to feel all of you, just like that. HARD!"

He was close. The pressure was building, a coil winding tighter and tighter at the base of his spine. His breaths came in sharp grunts, syncing with her increasingly frantic moans. The world narrowed to the screen, to the sight of her pleasuring herself for him, to the sound of her voice pulling him over the edge.

"I’m cumming Pranitha…" he gritted out.

"Cum for me: she cried out, her body tensing. 

"Let me see it!"

With a guttural groan, Hemant erupted. Thick, pearlescent streaks shot into the air, splattering onto the hotel floor and across his stomach in hot, pulsing waves. On the screen, Pranitha’s orgasm hit simultaneously, her body bowing off the bed as a silent, open-mouthed scream seized her.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Hemant slumped back, spent, watching her slowly come down. A lazy, sated smile spread across her beautiful face.

"Mmm, look at that" she purred, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at the mess on his stomach. 


"I’m not letting a single drop go to waste next time. It’s going straight in my pussy… or my mouth. I’m going to treat your cum like sweet nectar and consume every last bit of you"

Hemant let out a breathless laugh, his body humming with satisfaction. 

"Thank you for… a much better night"

Pranitha’s smile turned wicked, a promise of things to come. 

"Oh, darling. This was just the warm-up. The real game will be so much more intense!!!!"

His brows lifted.

"We’ll see"

They exchanged goodbyes, her voice softening before the line clicked dead.

Hemant stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle.

Then he walked back into the bedroom.

Meghna lay exactly as before—quiet, unaware, unthreatening… yet now fully suspicious in his mind. He didn’t join her. He curled up on the small couch near the bed, pulling a thin blanket over himself. As he closed his eyes, he thought of betrayal. Of loyalty. Of strange women and familiar lies. Of his friends with benefits with Tamanna. Of a kiss with Pranitha. Of Sonarika’s smile at the party.

And somewhere between it all…Michael King slept with one eye open.


THE NEXT MORNING AT RAGINI'S APARTMENT


Sunlight seeped gently through Ragini’s sheer curtains, painting the room in a soft gold glow. Sonarika stirred awake on the mattress laid out on the floor, blinking slowly as she adjusted to the quiet morning. Ragini sat nearby with a cup of tea, watching her.


"You looked like you barely slept" she said softly.

"My mind… wouldn’t shut down" Sonarika rubbed her eyes. 

Ragini nodded. 

"You were thinking about him, weren’t you?"

A long breath.

"Partly. But also about Vikram" Sonarika’s voice cracked a little. 

"What about him?" Ragini raised an eyebrow.

Sonarika exhaled heavily, pulling her knees close.

"He’s… still pursuing me. Even after I told him clearly last night. He’s shifting his base to Goa. He already has a hotel there."

Ragini’s face darkened. 

"I can talk to him. Warn him. Tell him to stay away from you"

"No" Sonarika said quickly, shaking her head. 

"I’ll handle it. I made the mistakes. I’ll correct them"

Ragini searched her face—saw the sorrow, the resolve.

"Alright. Just remember, you’re not alone"

Sonarika nodded, grateful.

A few minutes later, Mouni emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, adjusting her dupatta.

"Thank you, Ragini" she said warmly. 

"Wonderful night. Much needed"

"Anytime" Ragini smiled.

Mouni hugged them both and left. The door had barely shut when another knock sounded. Ragini opened it. Rachika walked in—hair messy, makeup faded, wearing sunglasses indoors.

"Water" she croaked. 

"Please. Before I die"

Ragini laughed and handed her a glass. Sonarika watched her curiously, sensing something… off. Rachika gulped down the water, wiped her mouth dramatically, then sat on the sofa with a dreamy sigh.

"Girls… last night… I had the craziest time."

Ragini raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh? Let me guess—you ditched the slumber party and found mischief"

Rachika giggled, cheeks flushing.

"Actually… I hooked up with someone"

Ragini’s jaw dropped.

"You WHAT?" 

Rachika giggled harder.

"Don’t judge me, okay?"

Ragini burst out laughing. 

"Good for you! He must’ve been worth it if you’re glowing like this. Who was the lucky guy?"

Rachika’s giggle slowly faded. She stared at her hands. Then, voice small:

"…I had trouble breathing when I realized who it was"

Ragini leaned in. 

"Who?"

Rachika swallowed.

"Kunal"

Dead. Silence. Ragini froze. Sonarika’s eyes widened.

"K-Kunal?" Ragini repeated. 

"As in—Mouni’s husband Kunal?"

Rachika winced and nodded. 

"Yes"

"How did that even happen!?" Ragini demanded.

Rachika sighed.

"I was going back to my hotel suite. Meghna saw Kunal outside having drinks with his friend. She dragged me there, made it a double date… things escalated… and it just… happened"

Ragini blinked in shock.

"Wait. His friend? Who is this friend?"

Rachika thought for a moment.

"Umm… Hemant. Hemant Kumar. The man behind YOD Industries"

Sonarika’s face went white. Ragini slowly turned to look at her. Then back at Rachika.

"You’re sure?" Ragini asked, voice tightening.

"You’re talking about that Hemant Kumar?"

"Yes!" Rachika said cheerfully. 

"Meghna hooked up with him last night right in front of me! Actually that’s what got us all in the mood. She literally pounced on him. Locked him in the bedroom. Crazy night"

Sonarika’s heart stopped. Her stomach twisted. Her world flipped on its axis. Rachika continued casually, still unaware:

"Funny thing is, he didn’t even react much. Just sat there. Meghna was all over him. Anyway, that’s why I ended up with Kunal. The vibe just—"

But her voice faded. Because Sonarika was already standing, pale, shaking, eyes filled with betrayal and burning tears. Not because Hemant was with another woman—he had every right now. But because Meghna—the woman she trusted most— had been involved. Had touched him. Had crossed a line Sonarika never imagined she would.

Her voice was low.

Cold.

Shattered.

"I need to go"

Ragini reached out. 

"Sonarika—wait—"

But Sonarika was already at the door.

She didn’t slam it. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She walked out silently— like a woman whose last thread of belief had finally snapped.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                      (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER CONTD)

FEW HOURS LATER AT THE APARTMENT


Hemant laid collapsed on the couch of the living room. The very same couch he deemed uncomfortable. He arrived home way early all tired greeting Karan and Anjali. Now they are gone to their respective institutes for the day and Tara has gone to YOD Industries for her medical survey. Now the house had only him. No sign of Sonarika.

Hemant thought she is probably at Vikram's flat probably getting the "best sex" she didn't get from him. He knew those thoughts were wrong , but he could not help it , his mind was finding justifications for why she easily fell for another man's charm and threw her marriage in the gutter. Maybe he is well endowed. He didn't go into detail in his thoughts as those thoughts will further fuel his nightmares. And lately his nightmares have more Sonarika and Vikram rather than the threats to his life.


He barely got about ten minutes of sleep until the front door slammed open. He opened his eyes. Sonarika stood there — breath uneven, eyes blazing, face pale with fury and heartbreak. Hemant straightened. She ignored that.

"Where are Karan and Anjali?" she demanded, voice trembling with contained rage.

Hemant smirked tiredly. 

"Maybe take a look at the clock. Children leave in the morning, Sonarika. You’re late"

She clenched her teeth.

"And Tara?"

"At the factory" he replied calmly. 

"Medical check-up drive. She’ll be here after noon"

Silence. Then she exploded.

"What the hell were you doing last night!?" she shouted. 

"How could you sleep with Meghna!?"

Hemant’s eyes sharpened instantly — no fear, no guilt, just cold irritation.

"So you’re spying on me now?"

"I’m not spying!" she snapped. 

"Rachika told me. She didn’t know you were my husband"

Hemant let out a humorless laugh.

"Right. Because you never tell your friends the truth right? You lie to them as well just like you lied to me"

She flinched.

"That’s not the point!"

"It is" he countered. 

"You kept your marriage hidden from people you spend your life with. And you’re here lecturing me?"

"Hemant, stop deflecting!" she shouted, voice cracking. 

"Did you sleep with her or not!?"

Hemant finally lost patience. He stood up — calm, composed, but with a fire under his voice that silenced her.

"I am NOT bound to you anymore, Sonarika. I can sleep with whoever I want, whenever I want"

Her breath hitched — the words cut deep.

"But" he continued sharply. 

"I didn’t"

She blinked, stunned. 

"You… didn’t?"

"No" he said firmly. 

"Meghna was drunk out of her mind. We were playing chess. Something I said triggered her ego , I guess she has a power fantasy and my words felt challenging for her. She pounced on me. And then she passed out"

He shook his head in disgust.

"And you of all people know that I never — NEVER — take advantage of a woman under influence"

Her eyes widened slowly as the memory surfaced — the nights she had been tipsy, trying to initiate intimacy, and Hemant gently refusing every time.

"So… you didn’t…" She swallowed. 

"Nothing happened" he said plainly, arms crossing. 

"I moved away. She passed out. End of story"

Silence. Sonarika exhaled shakily — relief washing through her pain. But Hemant wasn’t done.

"Though I will confess....I had a little....sex talk....with a certain someone on the phone"

That confession landed on Sonarika like a bag of bricks. Her mind was a blend of anger and relief. She eventually asked.

"Who?"

Hemant stared at her with a glare as he replied.

"Its...none of your business. Just wanna be clear that nothing happened between me and Meghna. And nothing will happen!"

His assuring words made her feel happy and pride that Hemant didn't succumb to Meghna's mind game.

"And another thing" he said, voice low, controlled. 

"You need to seriously rethink your friendship with Meghna. She’s playing a game. A dark one"

He met her eyes.

"Everything about her actions last night… her behavior… her sudden interest in me… it doesn’t add up. Something’s off"

Sonarika’s expression hardened.

"I suspected something too" she whispered. 

"But I kept ignoring it. Maybe… I shouldn’t"

"Then that was your biggest mistake all along. Though Vikram comes a close second" he said.

She could see resentment in his tone when he talked about Vikram. Her anger softened into wounded resolve.

"Stay away from her" she said quietly.

"You should tell that to her. Because I am not an ignorant like you , and she will regret the day she tries to meddle in my life again"

He rubbed his forehead, exhausted.

"I’m going to sleep. Meghna’s drama didn’t let me rest all night"

Sonarika’s shoulders sagged — equal parts relief and heartbreak. She turned away, leaving the apartment in a rush of emotion — fury at Meghna, guilt in her heart, and a burning resolve:

Meghna would no longer have a place in her life. Or power over her future.

And somewhere inside her chest, just beneath the anger— A fragile, aching pain that Hemant has a special someone in his heart , someone that was taking her place!



AT MEGHNA'S APARTMENT


Meghna sat curled on her couch, one leg pulled to her chest, staring blankly at the half-finished cup of black coffee on the table. Her head throbbed. Her pride throbbed more. The first thing she noticed when she woke up at Rachika's suite is that the bed was empty. And on the desk had a note which simply wrote.

'You Need To Control Your Drinking'

Hemant had rejected her. Completely. Coldly. Without hesitation. She clenched her jaw, fingers digging into the cushion beside her.

"Unbelievable" she muttered.

"His wife fucks a bigger and better man than him and he has the balls to reject me?…..this will cost him dearly!"

But beneath the irritation, a deeper fear gnawed at her. She had overplayed her hand. Too soon. Too aggressively. Too openly. One wrong move… and years of planning could crumble. Her thoughts spiraled—calculating, rewinding, adjusting her narrative—when the doorbell rang.

A single, sharp ring.

Meghna froze.

She had a terrible feeling she knew who it was. Slowly, she walked to the door and opened it. Her breath caught. Sonarika stood there. Eyes blazing. Jaw tight. Her entire face carved in fury—the same fury Meghna had seen only once before, when Sonarika nearly strangled Sandeep for hurting Hemant.

Meghna stumbled back instinctively.

"S-Sonarika—listen, last night—"

Sonarika stepped inside before Meghna could finish, grabbed the door, and slammed it shut behind her. Her silence was louder than words. Meghna opened her mouth.

"Let me expl—"

SLAP

The sound cracked through the apartment like a whip. Meghna fell to the floor, palm pressed to her burning cheek, eyes wide in shock. She had never seen Sonarika like this. Never seen this cold, lethal version of her. Sonarika leaned down, voice low, steady, and terrifyingly calm.

"This....this is where we end our friendship Meghna. This is where we part ways"

"Listen , Sonarika. It was a mistake , okay?"

"Mistakes are when you accidentally do something harmful. But you , you tried to get physical with my husband. MY HUSBAND!"

"I am sorry it happened. When we were playing chess , he kind of said the right words that tempted me. And I lost control!"

"Which is why I am here to make it clear with you Meghna. If you can't control yourself over this , then you cannot be my friend anymore"

Meghna started to show a little anger with Sonarika's judgement.

"Are you seriously going to lecture me about morality Sonarika? Especially considering you betrayed that very husband for another man"

Sonarika's anger twitched but she replied without wasting a breath.

"Yes I am. Because there is not a moment that goes where I regret my actions. After a long time , I finally see my truth. I accept that I betrayed him and I am willing to face my consequences. But you , you don't get to play with his life like you did with mine!"

She didn’t yell. Didn’t cry. Didn’t tremble. Her rage was clean, controlled, and absolute.

"Stay away from my family. Stay away from me , and most importantly , stay away from MY HEMANT!"

Sonarika straightened, opened the door without looking back, and walked out. The door slammed shut behind her. Meghna sat on the floor, stunned, humiliated, and trembling.

Then—slowly—her expression shifted.

Shock turned to anger.
Anger turned to resentment.
Resentment twisted into something darker.

She touched her cheek, eyes narrowing.

"So that’s how you want to play it…" she whispered.

The fire inside her roared alive.

Sonarika had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Because Meghna had forgiven many things. But a slap…and a threat…from the sister who stole everything she deserved?

That, she would never forgive. Her vengeance sharpened. Her next move began forming in her mind.

And this time…she wasn’t going to hold back.


BACK AT THE APARTMENT


The apartment was quiet when Tara returned around noon. Her footsteps were soft, careful, respectful of the home she had quickly learned to navigate. She found Hemant exactly where he had left himself: half-asleep on the living room couch, one arm covering his eyes, exhaustion pulling at every line of his face.

Tara paused in the doorway.

There was something strangely vulnerable about him like this — the sharp, disciplined man, the hardened leader, the billionaire manufacturer of weapons and defense technologies… reduced to a tired father asleep on a couch too small for him. She approached gently.

"Sir" she whispered. 

"Your lunch is ready. Should I bring it here, or will you eat at the table?"

Hemant stirred, opening one eye.

"Tara… you’re back already?"

"It’s afternoon" she said with a small smile. 

"You haven’t moved an inch"

He sat up slowly.

"I didn’t sleep properly last night"

A shadow flickered across his face — memories of Meghna’s drunken chaos, the confrontation with Sonarika still echoing in his chest, and the raw act with Pranitha on the phone last night lingering like smoke. Tara took note of all of it. Quietly. Curiously. Intently.

"Come" she said softly. 

"Eat something"

She helped him to the dining table — not out of necessity, but out of a gentle assertiveness he didn’t mind. Two plates. Simple food. Warm, fragrant, comforting.

Hemant took a few bites, then leaned back.

"You look tired" Tara said.

"I am" he admitted. 

"Too much happened in one night"

She poured him water, her movements graceful yet observant.

"You carry a lot, sir" she said quietly. 

"More than people see"

She had a calming presence. Not demanding. Not dramatic. Not manipulative.

Just… steady.

"You’re good company" he said.

Tara smiled — small, polite — but in her eyes, something deeper glimmered. Not affection. Not desire. Something older. Something colder. Something curious.

Because Tara didn’t care about Hemant’s wealth, or his heartbreak, or his domestic turmoil. Tara cared about something else entirely. Something no one in this home understood. Something that lived beneath Hemant’s skin.

Michael King.

The lord of violence. The legend of fear. The shadow that once walked the underworld of three continents. Tara watched him as he ate — the way his jaw tensed, the way his eyes darkened in thought, the way he carried weight in silence.

She knew those signs. She knew the dormant storm when she saw it. He is returning, she thought quietly. Piece by piece. Hemant interrupted her thoughts.

"You’re very thoughtful today"

Tara blinked, pulling herself back.

"Just… observing, sir"

"You don’t talk much, do you?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Talking is overrated,” she replied. 

"Observation tells you more"

Hemant chuckled — the first real smile of his day.

"Well, keep observing. Maybe you’ll figure me out someday"

Her eyes lowered politely.

"I already am, sir"

He didn’t catch the tone — the layered truth hidden beneath her soft voice.

But if he had, he might have felt a chill.

Because Tara wasn’t here just to help.
She wasn’t here just to care for his son or his home.

She was here for the man behind Hemant.
The man beneath the calm.
The man he used to be.

Michael King.

And while Hemant found comfort in her steady presence, Tara’s mind whispered something far more chilling:

'The world thinks Michael King is dead. But I know better. And I’m here for him'

                                                                                                                                                                                                (TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                     (CHAPTER CONTD)

FEW DAYS LATER AT YOD INDUSTRIES



The morning sunlight spilled across the polished floor of YOD Industries’ main lobby just as a Law Enforcement SUV screeched to a halt at the entrance. Security guards straightened immediately. Employees paused mid-task. From the vehicle stepped ACP Sanjana Ranawat, crisp in full uniform, holster at her side, eyes sharp as she scanned the buzzing industrial empire Hemant had built.

She walked inside with an authority that made even the most confident employees step aside. Kamya and Vaibhav froze when they recognized her.

"Manager’s office?" she asked curtly.

Kamya pointed nervously. 

"Top floor… first door to the right"

Sanjana headed up the stairs. Her boots echoed through the corridor.

Inside Hemant’s Office

Hemant was reviewing the updated development charts for the BTR project when he looked up—and his face shifted in surprise.

"Sanjana…" he muttered.

She stepped in. 

"Quite an empire you’ve built, Hemant"

Her tone was half-compliment, half-investigative.

He gestured for her to sit. 

"All the credit goes to the workers. I’m just steering the ship"

Sanjana scanned the luxurious office, the maps, the models, the surveillance feeds—everything. 

"I hope Anjali has recovered well?"

"She’s almost back to normal" Hemant replied, calm.

Sanjana nodded once. 

"Good. Because Dilawar and Rafique? Still missing. And the search is widening"

Hemant kept his expression steady. 

"I hope you find them"

Sanjana’s eyes narrowed—she had caught the subtle amusement behind his words.

"Interesting" she said. 

"Because almost everyone who crossed paths with those brothers suffered—physically or mentally. And yet you…"

She leaned forward.

"You walked away from each encounter without a single scratch"

Hemant didn’t blink. 

"You already know me, Sanjana. From college. I tend to ignore men like him"

"That’s my point" she said quietly. 

"The man I loved back then and the man sitting here now? They are not the same"

His jaw tightened. 

"You’re overthinking this because you’re a cop"

"Maybe" She stood. 

"But I am investigating the brothers’s disappearance and their trafficking network. And if my instincts lead me back here—"

Her gaze hardened.

"—I won’t come with warnings next time. I’ll come with handcuffs"

Hemant held her stare. Inside, he acknowledged the threat—but it didn’t shake him. He had faced worse. A brief silence filled the room before he spoke, voice softened with genuine regret.

"I am sorry for leaving you back then, when I left for Kashmir for my army training" he said. 

Sanjana’s eyes glistened, but she blinked the emotion away.

"So am I" she whispered.

Then she turned and walked out. Hemant allowed himself a slow exhale. Raquel Arrives. Raquel entered moments later, file in hand.

"Bhaijaan" he greeted.

Hemant straightened. 

"Did you get everything on Vikram?"

Raquel placed the file on the desk. 

"Yes. Vikram Bajaj is set to be the successor of BajajCorp. But he’s refusing the throne. Wants his sister to run the empire"

Hemant raised an eyebrow.

"So what does he want?"

"A quieter life" Raquel replied. 

"He’s taking over a small hotel division. Planning to shift base to Goa. Renovation permits already under process"

Hemant’s expression darkened.

Raquel continued.

"He’s also scouting high-end villas. Private ones. One specifically listed as suitable for… married or cohabiting couples"

Hemant looked down for a moment, jaw locked.

"So he wants to take her to Goa" he murmured.

"Start a new life with her"

For a few seconds, he said nothing. The betrayal pricked—but he forced the bitterness down. He stood up, turning cold, focused. Raquel waited. Hemant looked him dead in the eye.

"Enough about Vikram" he said. 

His voice shifted into the tone Michael King once used—the tone of command.

"How’s Operation Jewel Thief?"

"Nearly complete" Raquel answered instantly. 

"Manav has finished his work—all trucks are ready"

Hemant nodded.

"Good" he said, stepping toward the window overlooking his factory floor.

"Finish the final preparations"

His tone became razor-sharp.

"We move soon"

Raquel saluted lightly. 

"Yes, Bhaijaan"

He left. Hemant stayed still, watching his empire breathe below him—eyes cold, heart steeled.

Operation Jewel Thief was officially entering its endgame.


FEW DAYS LATER AT GURGAON


The SUV parked in the crescent-shaped driveway was unfamiliar, a hulking, black intrusion on the pristine symmetry of Ritesh’s Gurgaon villa. A long day at the corporate grind had left him drained, but the prospect of surprising his wife, Anjana, with an unexpected free evening lifted his spirits. He called her name as he crossed the marble lobby, the echo his only reply.

The silence felt… dense. He walked further in, his polished shoes clicking a rhythm of domestic anticipation. A trail of discarded clothing snaked from the foyer toward the master suite—a silk blouse, a pair of trousers that were not his own. His own pulse, a moment ago a steady drum of contentment, began to quicken.

The sound of the shower running drew him to the ensuite. Steam curled from the cracked door, carrying the faint, floral scent of Anjana’s expensive shampoo. He pushed the door open, a playful smile already forming on his lips. 

"Anjana? Surprise"

She stood behind the fogged glass of the shower stall, a blurred silhouette of curves and dripping water. She turned, her face appearing through the steam, a slight, almost lazy smile gracing her features. She held the curtain closed just below her breasts, hinting at the nude form beneath. 

"Ritesh. You’re home early"

"Wrapped up the merger. The whole day is ours" 

He said, his voice husky with sudden desire as he began to unbutton his shirt. He took a step toward the shower, toward his beautiful, wet wife.

That’s when the shape behind her moved.

The glass door slid open with a sharp hiss. A man stepped out, water sluicing off a powerful, heavily tattooed torso. Long, dark hair was plastered to his broad shoulders, a thick beard covering a jawline set with arrogant confidence. Daraaksh Zarir. A business associate Anjana had insisted was crucial to their new ventures. He was utterly, completely nude, and he looked at Ritesh not with shock, but with a smug, possessive gleam in his dark eyes. He didn’t speak. He simply walked past Ritesh, a predator dismissing prey, and left the bathroom.

Ritesh’s world tilted. The unbuttoned shirt hung uselessly from his shoulders. He could only stare, his mind refusing to process the image. His wife. Naked. In their shower. With him. Anjana’s smile didn’t falter. She stepped out, coolly wrapping herself in a plush white towel, seemingly oblivious to the water dripping from her skin onto the floor. She walked past him as if he were a piece of furniture.

His voice, when it finally came, was a shattered, reedy thing. 

"Anjana… why? What… what is this?"

She stopped at the bedroom threshold and turned. The warmth he had seen mere moments ago was gone, replaced by an expression of chilling calculation. 

"The merger isn’t the only thing that wrapped up today, Ritesh. Our little arrangement has served its purpose"

"Arrangement?" he choked out.

"Our marriage" she said, the word a mockery on her lips. 

"A brilliant performance, wasn’t it? Father always valued your dog-like loyalty to Bajaj Corp. Marrying you was the perfect way to secure my share of the empire. I needed your reputation, your dedication. And you gave it so freely" 

A cruel smile touched her lips. 

"I never loved you. Daraaksh… he is the only man who understands my ambition. The only one strong enough to stand beside me"

The raw, humiliating truth of it crashed down on him. The years, a lie. Their bed, a stage. His love, a tool. A guttural roar tore from his throat. He lunged, not at her, but at Zarir, who stood near the bed watching with detached amusement.

It was a hopeless gesture. Zarir moved with lethal grace, catching Ritesh’s swinging arm and twisting it with a brutal, practiced motion. The crack of bone was sickeningly loud. Agony blinded Ritesh for a second before a fist like forged iron connected with his jaw, snapping his head back. He was a desk-jockey; Zarir was a bruiser. The beating was swift, professional, and utterly merciless. Blow after blow rained down, a symphony of pain. Ritesh crumpled to the expensive Persian rug, his vision swimming with red.

Through a haze of suffering, he saw Zarir walk to a discarded leather jacket and pull out a long, wicked-looking hunter’s knife. Ritesh tried to plead, to beg, but only a bloody gurgle escaped his lips. Zarir’s cold eyes showed nothing—not anger, not hate, just a task to be completed. He drove the blade deep into Ritesh’s chest.

The pain was a white-hot sun, then a cold, shocking numbness. Zarir hauled him up by his armpits and hooked him over the high back of an ornate reading chair, the knife’s hilt protruding from his sternum, pinning him in place. His body spasmed, his life bleeding out onto the cream-colored upholstery.

Anjana watched it all, her expression one of mild interest. She untied her towel and let it drop to the floor. 

"Enough of him" she said, her voice flat. 

"Lets show him how a real man satisfies his woman!"

Zarir’s smirk returned. He walked to the bed, to their bed, and lay back against the pillows, his powerful body on full display, already semi-aroused again. Anjana climbed atop him, straddling his hips, her back to her dying husband.

Ritesh’s fading consciousness focused on the sight before him. The way her back muscles flexed as she moved. The sound of their skin meeting—a wet, rhythmic slap that was louder than his own struggling heart. Zarir’s large hands gripped her hips, pulling her down onto him with each deep, penetrating thrust.

“Yessss....ahhhh… just like that" Anjana moaned, her head falling back. 

"So much better....Ahhhh....much better than he ever was....Ahhhh.....So much more…...MANLY!”

Each word was a fresh wound. Each groan from Zarir was a nail in his coffin. Ritesh could feel the last of his strength ebbing away with each pulse of blood from his chest, each synchronised push of Zarir’s body into his wife’s. He was a spectator at his own execution, forced to watch the ultimate betrayal play out in the sanctuary of his own bedroom.

Anjana’s moans grew louder, more frantic. She was close. She rode Zarir with a savage hunger, her nails digging into his chest. Ritesh watched the muscles in her back tense, saw the sheen of sweat on her skin. Zarir’s thrusts became harder, more possessive, his grip on her bruisingly tight.

"I’m going to fill you up" Zarir growled, his voice a low rumble. 

"Make you mine completely"

Anjana’s cry was one of pure, unadulterated triumph as she came, her body shuddering violently above him. A final, powerful thrust from Zarir, a guttural groan, and he joined her, his own release pumping into her, claiming her in the most primal way possible right in front of her husband’s glazing eyes.

They collapsed together in a sweaty, sated heap, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room besides the faint, final rattle in Ritesh’s throat. As the last vestiges of light faded from his eyes, the last thing he saw was the curve of his wife’s smile as she lay in the arms of her lover.

Minutes later, Anjana propped herself up on an elbow, glancing dispassionately at the chair. 

"He’s gone"

Zarir followed her gaze, grunting in acknowledgment. He ran a hand possessively over her hip. 

"So, what’s next, queen of BajajCorp?"

Anjana’s mind was already calculating, the sexual haze clearing to reveal cold ambition. 

"Next? I put on a spectacular widow’s performance. The sympathy will be invaluable. The board will hand me everything on a silver platter out of pity. Especially considering Vikram has made the decision to move to Goa"

"One step closer to your rightful place Anjana. To become the ruler of the Bajaj Empire!"

"True , plus , I will be utilising this sympathy act to tempt Sonarika too"

"How?"

"The best way to entice and pull a woman is through the family attachment. I will make Sonarika come close to my mother and me , show her our vulnerable side. When she starts to connect with us as a family then she will be tempted to get close to Vikram. Vikram is chasing after her to Goa anyways"

"And you think it will work"

"If I keep my act well , then yes. Regardless , she will feel a connection to my mother anyways. Now with Ritesh's death , I can initiate a family union full of grief and condolences and Sonarika will be forced to spend time with us through Vikram"

"Interesting plan Anjana. I'll make the arrangements for his death to look like an accident"

Daraaksh said as he picked up his phone and called someone. After the call  , he turned to her.

"Let this be the beginning of our success story!"

"BajajCorp's throne is all mine now.....once Vikram leaves for Goa....I get the key to the kingdom"

Anjana says with a cold stare. Daraaksh matches her intensity as he finally declares.

"And once that is done....I will make my presence known....in Mumbai...to Michael King!"


THE DAY OF SEPARATION!


The apartment felt unusually quiet that morning. Karan was running around, excitedly stuffing action figures into his bag, while Anjali triple-checked her little diary where she had written a list titled “Delhi Summer Plans.” Their voices echoed with anticipation, innocence, and warmth.

But behind them, Sonarika and Hemant moved like shadows.

For Sonarika, every object in the living room looked like a memory — the sofa where they fell asleep watching a movie, the table where Hemant taught Karan math, the balcony where she and Hemant once planned their future. Now she was leaving this place behind. Not permanently, but long enough for it to feel like an ending.

For Hemant, every second felt like a countdown. This was the last morning he would see his family together under this roof. And though neither said it aloud, the truth sat heavily between them:

This was the day their marriage quietly broke.

He helped with the luggage silently. She avoided eye contact, fiddling with her dupatta every few seconds, twisting the fabric just to keep her trembling hands busy.

The drive to the airport was a strange blend of joy and grief. Karan and Anjali filled the car with nonstop chatter:

"Papa, Nana promised to take us to the water park!"

"And Nani said she’ll make that mango milkshake we love!"

"And we can go for cycling like we did when I was small!"

Hemant responded with soft smiles, nodding, keeping his eyes on the road. Sonarika stared out of the window, blinking too many times, swallowing too many feelings. She knew this wasn’t just a vacation.

After the summer, she would move to Goa. A new place. A new job. A new beginning. And Hemant believed she was choosing Vikram over their life. Each kilometer toward the airport felt like a string snapping between them.


The airport buzzed with crowds, loudspeaker announcements, rushing footsteps. But for them, it felt muted. Slow. Heavy. Near the departure gate, Hemant crouched and hugged Karan tightly.

"Be good, champ. When you come back, I’ll have a surprise ready for you"

Karan nodded vigorously. Anjali gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Hemant promised to call regularly. Then came the moment both dreaded.

Sonarika extended her hand. A simple handshake. Formal. Polite. Cold.

"Take care, Hemant" she whispered.

"You too"

She turned, taking a few steps, guiding the kids toward the gate. Karan and Anjali waved happily. But Hemant wasn’t looking at them.

He was looking at her.

At the woman he had once believed he’d grow old with.
The woman he still loved even after the betrayal.
The woman he thought he was losing forever.

And Sonarika… felt it.

A sob caught in her throat. No. This was not how their story ended. Not with a handshake. Not with this poisonous silence.

She spun around, her dupatta flying. She didn’t walk; she ran, weaving through slow-moving travelers, her eyes locked on him. Hemant stood where she had left him, a statue of heartbreak, his shoulders slumped in a defeat she had caused.

He looked up, confusion etching his features, just as she crashed into him.

Her hands flew to his face, her fingers gripping his jaw, pulling him down to her. And then her mouth was on his.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a desperate, hungry, claiming. It was every unsaid apology, every buried desire, every memory of his skin against hers. Her lips moved over his with a frantic intensity, pouring a lifetime of love and regret into the connection. A soft, startled sound escaped him, a gasp she swallowed greedily.

For a heartbeat, he was rigid with shock. Then, with a groan that vibrated deep in his chest and into her very core, he yielded. His arms wrapped around her, one hand splaying against the small of her back, crushing her to him, the other sliding down to grip her buttock through the thin fabric of her salwar, pulling her flush against the hard ridge of his arousal straining against his trousers. The familiar scent of him, flooded her senses, intoxicating and heartbreakingly perfect.

The world dissolved. The giggles of onlookers, the murmur of comments about the bold couple—it all faded into a distant hum. There was only his mouth, hot and demanding on hers. Only the possessive pressure of his hand on her backside, a sensation so intimately known it made her knees buckle. She clung to him, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

This. This was the inferno that had forged their son. This was the passion he thought she had given to another. She kissed him with everything she had, trying to brand the truth onto his lips. 

'I am yours. I have always been yours'

His tongue swept into her mouth, a bold, familiar invasion that tasted of coffee and longing. She met it with her own, a slick, heated dance that was as much a battle as a reunion. She could feel the frantic beating of his heart against her own, a wild, syncopated rhythm that spoke of pain and a desperate, rekindled need. The rough texture of his day-old stubble scbangd against her chin, a delicious friction that sent sparks straight to the aching, empty place between her legs. She pressed herself harder against him, wanting to feel every hard line of his body, wanting to melt into him and never leave.

Time stretched and bent. It could have been a minute; it could have been an hour. When they finally broke apart, it was only far enough to gasp for air. A thin, glistening strand of their combined saliva stretched between their swollen, bruised lips, a fragile, intimate tether that finally snapped and fell away.

Her chest heaved. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t care. She looked directly into his dark, stunned eyes, her voice a raw, desperate whisper.


"Whatever happens, Hemant… I will always love you. This is not an ending. It’s just… a path we have to walk so we can find our way back to each other"

She touched his cheek.

"You are mine. I am yours. And we will learn that truth from our life forward!"

Her eyes glistened but held a quiet strength. Then she turned, breathing deeply, straightening her dupatta, and walked back to her child and sister.

Hemant watched as she disappeared through the gate.

For the first time in weeks, a tear escaped his eye. And just beneath the hurt, for the first time in months…

A spark ignited.

Maybe someday…He would find her again. And maybe someday…They would finally return to each other.

One thing was certain. 

Their Love Wasn't Dead. Not Yet.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                 END OF CHAPTER 27

[Harry Jordan]

Chapter 27 - WTF . What happened ? Felt little Rushed though it contained some good moments and scenario but still fall short . 

Few lines , Yet they carry so much weight . Lovely Ending with Hope and Warmth . 


Again , Wonderful Update , Harry .

Nice Observations , I will provide some context.


The reason Sonarika doesn't simply GHOST or IGNORE Vikram is because she accepts she not only betrayed Hemant but Vikram as well. At this point in her arc , she realized even though the sex and the passion with Vikram was breathtaking , at the end of the day , those moments fuelled her sickness , her hypersexuality. And she was basically unknowingly using Vikram for physical needs. Now that she knows her mistake , she wants Vikram to move away willingly rather than clung to her because of his 'Love' for her. Because Sonarika at this point , can never reciprocate it anymore. Her heart , her mind and her soul only sees one man as her love , and it is her Hemant. And the beauty of the arc is that she is willing to sacrifice her life with Hemant only for Hemant's peace and his happiness. The kiss in the airport was her all out attempt to show Hemant that she still aches for him , and that no amount of fuckings Vikram gives , he can never take Hemant's place in her heart. Because Hemant wasn't just a husband in her life , he was her savior , the one who came in her life at the right time and rescued her from her own storm of descend. But at the same time , Sonarika is willing to move away from Hemant just so Hemant isn't bothered by her presence in his life. She is willing to sacrifice a future with him so that he no longer feel hurt by her and her presence. This shows that despite all the experiences with all the men , Hemant was her true love and companion. Will she find her way back to him, only future will tell.


Well the Meghna-Sonarika confrontation was short and sweet because this is not the end of their rivalry. Because from now , things will escalate much further between them. Sonarika only doubts Meghna and her intentions now , she is still unaware of all the cruel things Meghna had already done to her and her family. And Meghna is only going to escalate the situation much further. The real heat of their conflict is only about to begin. But the biggest mistake Meghna has done right now , is expose herself , to Hemant of all people. And right now , Meghna has no idea , she has locked herself in a cage against a Lion!



Though Vikram is portrayed desperate , he is not exactly a villain in this story either. He is also a victim just like Sonarika , he too is a pawn in someone else's game. His love for Sonarika is indeed genuine , but half of it is stemmed from a past love he lost. He doesn't wanna loose Sonarika as he lost Sarika. And now he intends to up his game and truly change so that he can earn her admiration and respect again. But will we earn that and finally win her back? Or will he finally see the true villains in his life and fight back? That only time will tell.


As for Anjana , she knows things about Hemant and Michael King that Daraaksh has told her. And she isn't concerned about Hemant because her target is never him , but Sonarika. As long as Anjana is concerned , her only mission is making Sonarika and Vikram a couple and have Vikram move away from the business so that Anjana can claim the BajajCorp empire all for herself. She doesn't care about Hemant as he is Daraaksh's problem.


And then there is the mysterious Tara , a pawn planted by Daraaksh to wreck Hemant's life from within. Will she succeed in wrecking Hemant or will The Eagle see the Snake and hunt it down? Only time will tell.


For now , the attention will be towards next chapter as we will finally witness Operation Jewel Thief commence and the ripples of that event bringing major changes not just to the characters but also the world. So brace yourself , because the ride is about to get INTENSE! 

[Harry Jordan]

Of all the characters the most silly one is Anjana lol
On one end she thinks Daaraaksh cares for her, he is just using her and if needed he will just kill her as well...classic Aish role in Khakee movie...other end she thinks she can play with Sonarika with sympathy, Sonarika clearly is not the old one. She can think clearly plus she has Ragini to clear her thoughts. Its not going to be easy to trap Sonarika and Vikram at one place now. I can clearly Vikram trying many times in Goa but I doubt he would succeed.

Interesting aspect would be to see how she will find truth about Meghana and how she will get her revenge. Since last 2 chapters Sonarika's arc becoming more interesting than Hemant.

~RCF

Nice observations , though I wanna add one aspect clearly.

The Anjana's arc with Daraaksh is not of love , but rather two individuals complimenting each other in achieving their goals. Anjana is not exactly "in love" with Daraaksh , but he is the man who supports her in her quest , which is to take over the entire Bajaj Corp empire. And both have their goals interlapped so that they can get what they want. Anjana wants Hemant and Sonarika to separate so that Sonarika can be manipulated into a life with Vikram so that Vikram will move away from the family business and live his life he desires with her. She doesn't have ill intentions for Vikram as she believes his feelings for Sonarika is genuine. But she desires and wants to gain control of the entire Bajaj Empire as a "fuck you" and revenge towards her father who has treated her mother and herself terribly all her life. And on the contrary , Daraaksh wants Sonarika and Hemant to separate so that Hemant fully changes and transforms into Michael King so that he can take his revenge. He initiates a dual strategy where he is wrecking Hemant's personal life so that his normal life is destroyed and Michael King can return to his old ways. Which is why he is only targeting his marriage and none of the other ladies in Hemant's life as he believes they are a catalyst to resurrect Michael. Plus he injected Tara into Hemant's life as a virus to crack Hemant from within. Someone who can stab him in his back when the times comes and wreck him inside out. But what neither Daraaksh nor Anjana notices is that Hemant doesn't want to be Michael , he is doing everything to put Michael to rest , and for Micheal to put to rest , he has to avenge the loved ones he lost and finish old scores so that he can be Karan's father and become Hemant that is no longer bothered by Michael and his existence within him. But now , Sonarika with her kiss planted a small seed of hope in Hemant that somewhere in the future , he can bring back his family together and his Sona will return. This will be the start of their growth arc and finally see and realize how much they matter to each other. And this is also the turning point from where Sonarika will transform from Hemant's weakness to Hemant's strength as she will evolve in her new life becoming the woman she was supposed to be. In short , bad news for Meghna all together!

[Harry Jordan]

Hello Harry,

Can we expect a new post from you today?
Your routine was to publish a new post every weekend, but this was interrupted by your accident and could only be resumed after two weeks.
Today would be a good day to resume your old schedule. 

Thank you and have a nice evening!


-----------
Demeter

Unfortunately not today,

  As I am still recovering , I am not sure when and I have been aware of many reader's frustrations when I delay my postings on the time I initally claims. So from now on I am using a different tactic. Instead of announcing it early , I will simply post a comment hours before I am uploading the chapter. This will let the readers be prepared when the next chapter comes. So the next chapter might take time as there is a lot of work , it will feature the Operation Jewel Thief heist and it needs work to set the action sequence. Due to my resting state , I get more time to work on the story now , but still the pain is still not subsided yet. So brace for it soon as the next chapter will be quiet a spectacle!

[Harry Jordan]

Update

I know some of the readers might be concerned whether this story will stay unfinished. Just to give some update , I am still recovering. I do got to spend some time working on the story but my head injury has created problems for me. The occasional headaches doesn't help either. But in a way focusing on the story is kind of therapy for me. I don't know when I will post it , but like I said before , I don't wanna give false hope to readers. I will simply post one message notifying the coming of the chapter in the next 24 hours. This message is not that , this is just my health update. Once my headache frequency ends  , I will focus on posting the finished product. I have already made enough materials but when it comes to editing it , I have a hard time focusing it and that is when the headaches kick in. For now , the healing is happening well but slow. Headaches are low , but still there. Once the next chapter is ready , I will post a simple message and it will come online in that few hours.


Recently , one of my fellow friend took me to the cinemas to recover and he made me watch Dhurandhar which honestly is not something you should be watching when you are recovering LOL 


As a movie fan though , I absolutely loved it. The movie showed the best example of world building , I wish I could give a build up to my baddie Daraaksh in the story similar to Akshaye Khanna's Rakesh Dacait in this movie but oh well. The characters are quiet different from each other. But damn , the filmmaker has real talent in building villainous characters and adding mysticism to it. I wish this movie was made few years back and I would've definitely inspired it in my story because the movie's use of espionage and stealth ops is very realistic and gripping. I just hope I am well healed enough when part 2 of the movie comes in March.


So this is just a Health Update. I am recovering , and I will let all readers know when the next chapter will come. Don't worry folks , Hemant Kumar's story will not be left unfinished. His Adventures WILL CONTINUE!


    FROM YOURS TRULY

 HARRY JORDAN 

[Harry Jordan]

So , here it is dear Readers. After some trials and traumatic health complications. I am somewhat healed , though not fully. Regardless in the time of healing , I was able to work on the next chapter briefly and I am happy to announce to you that Chapter 28 will be coming online in the next 24 hours. This chapter was really a wonderful experience in writing for me because this chapter will heavily focus on Hemant and his character's dynamic. Sonarika is taking a back seat and we will be witnessing Hemant's character going through a shift as he is haunted by his new lifestyle changes and new nightmares. In a way , we will be seeing Hemant's descend to madness as Sonarika's separation from his life triggering Michael King to slowly take over him. We will see his innocence and his idealism twist and see Michael taking the driver seat in his life. Plus there is a lengthy sex scene in this chapter to spice things up. But at the same time , we will see Hemant is still holding on to that life as a thread but this is the moment where the sanity of Hemant is mutating and Michael in blending in transforming Hemant Kumar into a force of reckoning. This chapter is special to me because this is where Hemant's purpose and Michael's revenge interlap. A point in the story where Hemant's motivation and his drive to put Michael King to rest. But to do that , he must finish something that Michael left incomplete. And so a New Hemant Kumar is born , someone who is a blend of Hemant's observation and Michael's brutality. And with Operation Jewel Thief commencing in this chapter , we will see Hemant moving into a more serious territory. New enemies will be born and different alliances will be made as War is about to knock on the door!

Wait and Read in the next 24 hours as the story evolves into a war that will be brutal and catastrophic!

        From Your's Truly

  HARRY JORDAN   

[Harry Jordan]

Okay WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THIS SITE......I spend the last few hours trying to upload the chapter and every time I clicked it popped into a different page. This never happened before , did the site go through some updates or something? I am trying it right now again as I think the site has returned to normal so let me see. Chapter 28 on the way!

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                     CHAPTER 28

FEW HOURS LATER AT THE APARTMENT



Hemant entered the apartment in silence.

The door clicked shut behind him with a finality that felt heavier than any argument they had ever had. The house, once filled with footsteps, laughter, arguments, music, and chaos, now felt vast and hollow—like a museum where echoes lived longer than people.

He stood still in the living room.

This was the same space where Karan had taken his first steps, where Sonarika had once danced barefoot while cooking, where Anjali had scolded him for being too rigid with rules. This was the space where birthdays were celebrated, where fights happened and were forgiven, where love once lived without conditions.

Now, it was only him.

Soon, even this would be gone. The Silver Beach Villa in Juhu waited for him like a monument to his success—but what use was a dream house built for a family that no longer existed? The new house would be grand, ambitious, cold—just like the man he had become.

This apartment, however, was still warm with ghosts.

Hemant slowly walked through the rooms. The dining table where Sonarika used to sit scrolling through work updates. The balcony where they once stood together during the first heavy monsoon after their marriage. The place where they sat and discussed their day. Karan’s room—half empty now, his toys neatly packed, his laughter still trapped in the walls.

And finally—The bedroom. The place where trust was built… and broken. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.

She’s really gone now…

Delhi was only the beginning.
After that would be Goa.
After that would be Vikram.

For the first time, Hemant allowed himself to imagine it fully—not in flashes of jealousy, not in rage—but in cold, cruel clarity. Sonarika and Vikram in Goa. No hiding. No guilt. No fear of being caught. No marriage standing in between them.

Exotic beaches. Wild nights. A Thrilling future.

They would laugh freely there. Touch freely. Love freely. Have sex freely. And he would no longer exist in that world. He realized something that made his chest tighten painfully—

He was now her past.
Vikram would be her present.
And soon… her future.

Hemant had Karan. He had Anjali. He had YOD Industries. He had power, fear, money, influence. But he was losing the one thing he never thought he could—

Her.

For months, he had lived on anger. On betrayal. On revenge. On pride.

But now… as the apartment swallowed him whole…For the first time in months—

He cried.

Silent tears fell onto his hands as he clenched his fists tightly. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just helpless.

Despite everything she had done…Despite the betrayal…Despite the destruction…

He still wanted her.

Then the memory struck him again—

The airport. The sudden run. The tight embrace. The kiss.

So real. So desperate. So alive. Her words echoed again:

“No matter what… I will always love you”

A small, foolish flame lit up in his heart. What if… one day… she does come back? But fear crushed that hope almost instantly. What if that kiss was only goodbye? Hemant stood and walked to the wardrobe. As he opened it, something soft slipped out and fell to the floor. A faded pink salwar. One she used to wear years ago. Simple. Modest. Ordinary. But to him—it was everything. He picked it up slowly. Held it. Pressed it against his chest.

And this time… he broke.

His shoulders shook as he finally allowed himself to mourn—not just the marriage, but the love story they once were. The laughter. The dreams. The forever that never came.

He whispered softly into the empty room:

"Everything has changed…"

And for the first time, Hemant Kumar—The feared industrialist. The rising tycoon. The hardened strategist—

Cried like a broken man in the ruins of his own heart.



FEW DAYS LATER AT THE SILVER BEACH VILLA , JUHU


The convoy rolled silently into the private coastal stretch of Juhu, the sound of waves crashing faintly beyond towering palm silhouettes. The gates of the Silver Beach Villa parted with a slow mechanical hum, as if the house itself was inhaling Hemant into its vast emptiness.

Tara stepped out first, surveying the wide open driveway, the sea-facing elevation, the glass balconies that caught the sunlight like sharp blades. Hemant followed, his movements slow, weighted—like a man stepping into a dream that had already died.

A hollow breath escaped his lips.

"This was supposed to be our place…" he murmured faintly, more to himself than to Tara.

"Our morning tea on that balcony. Karan running barefoot on the deck. Sonarika complaining about the sea wind tangling her hair…"

He stepped inside.

The villa was breathtaking—double-height ceilings, contemporary luxury, glass walls opening straight to the ocean. The smell of fresh wood, new upholstery, untouched corridors. Everything was perfect.

Too perfect.

But the perfection felt soulless.

Tara followed at a distance as Hemant walked through the living area, running his fingers along surfaces that had never felt warmth. He stopped at the master bedroom entrance—its massive balcony facing the sea, curtains gently fluttering in the night breeze.

"No more shared winters" he whispered.

"No more stolen warmth"

His jaw tightened.

"She’ll create all those moments again… just not with me"

In his mind, Goa ignited—sunlit beaches, open freedom, Vikram beside her, laughter replacing the silence Hemant now carried. A different life. A different man.

"She will choose him....like before....like always....I will forever be her second best" he said quietly.


The silence in Silver Beach Villa was a physical thing, a heavy, suffocating blanket that Hemant carried from room to empty room. Each perfect, custom-fitted surface was a monument to a future that had curdled, a life that had been promised and then snatched away. His athletic frame, usually so sure and strong, felt hollowed out, a shell echoing with the ghost of his family’s laughter. Their laughter.


He stood in the doorway of the special room. The room he’d designed for her. For them. The air hummed with the latent energy of the vibrating bed, waiting for a command that would never come. His piercing eyes, once full of passion for his wife, now scanned the sterile perfection with a bitter ache. He thumbed the remote for the projector.


The screen flickered to life.


The footage was grainy, intimate. A much younger Sonarika, her face flushed, her pregnant belly round and undeniable, was barely holding the camcorder steady. The angle was personal, erotic. She was gasping, moaning, her free hand guiding Hemant’s head to her full, heavy breast. His suckling was audible, desperate. Sonarika’s cries were raw, primal. 

"Mhmmm… drink it all, my love…."


"Come on honey… don’t be shy"

Sonarika's recorded voice purred, a sound that used to ignite him. On screen, his past self, eager and adoring, nuzzled against the swell of her belly before his mouth found one of her full, heavy breasts. The video was intimate, raw. It captured every detail: the way her head fell back, the long, throaty moan that escaped her lips as he suckled, the absolute surrender on her face as her milk let down for him. He remembered the sweet, warm taste, the profound intimacy of fulfilling her deepest kink, of being her sole source of pleasure.


The memory was a knife twist. Because now, there was another man. 

Vikram.


The image on the projector blurred, the past melting into the vicious present of his imagination. The hum of the villa’s air conditioner faded, replaced by the rhythmic crash of waves. The sterile walls dissolved into a vast expanse of sun-bleached sand and turquoise sea.

Goa.

She was there. Just as he’d seen in the stolen Bali photos. Lying on a towel, the red bikini she wore on the photos barely containing the lush curves of her milfy body. The sun worshipped her smooth, glowing skin. She was a vision of perfect, sensual peace.

Then, a figure emerged from the water. Vikram. Water slewed down his muscular, chiseled chest and toned abdomen. His trunks clung low on his hips, and a confident, alluring smirk was plastered on his face as his eyes locked onto Sonarika. Hemant’s jaw tightened. He’d seen Vikram’s social media. He had an imagination and belief on what that man was packing, and a sick, jealous part of him was certain that was the real reason his marriage had crumbled.

Sonarika pushed her sunglasses onto her head. Even from this distance, Hemant could see her answering smile, a flash of white teeth. He couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. He saw her lips form a flirty remark. Saw Vikram’s retort as he closed the distance, his body blocking the sun as he loomed over her.

Their mouths crashed together, not with tenderness, but with a hungry, desperate passion that made his own old recording seem like a polite dance. Vikram’s hands were everywhere, gripping her waist, tangling in her hair, sliding down to palm her ass through the flimsy fabric of her bikini bottoms. Sonarika arched into him, her hands roaming over his broad back, pulling him closer, demanding more.

Then his fingers found the tie of her bikini top. A quick, practiced tug and it loosened. He peeled the fabric away, and her full, beautiful breasts spilled into the sunlight, the nipples already hard peaks. Vikram didn’t hesitate. He lowered his head and took one into his mouth, sucking hard.

A strangled sound escaped Sonarika’s throat. It was a brutal parody of his cherished memory. But Sonarika’s reaction… it was different. Her back bowed off the towel, a guttural, appreciative moan ripped from her that was louder, more primal than any sound she’d ever made for him. Her fingers clawed at Vikram’s shoulders, urging him on. 

"Yes baby...… oh god Vikram yessss.....…"

His trunks were gone in an instant. Her bikini bottoms were ripped aside. There was no preamble, no gentle easing. Vikram mounted her, his powerful frame covering hers completely, and in one brutal, possessive thrust, he was inside her.

"AAAHHH!!!"

Sonarika’s scream wasn’t one of pain. It was a cry of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, swallowed by the roar of the ocean. 

"Vikram.....YOU ARE AMAZING!!!!!"

He set a punishing rhythm, fucking her hard and deep into the yielding sand, each drive of his hips punctuated by a grunt of effort. The sight was devastating. The woman who had built a family with him, who had shared his bed and his life, was now abandoningly herself to another man, her body rocking under his, her legs locking around his waist to take him even deeper.

"hghh...hgh....I love you Sonarika....hghh...gghh....hhghh.....hggh" 

Vikram growled into her neck, his voice thick with lust and something more terrifyingly genuine.

Hemant’s heart stopped. And then she said it. Between ragged gasps and cries of pleasure, her voice broke. 

"Ahh...ahhh...ahhh.....I love you too…..ahhhh....I love you…ahhh....ahhhh..."

The words were a physical blow. Vikram groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more frantic. 

"We’ll make our own family here. Goa is our world now. Our haven"

"Ahhh.....Yes Vikram!" she cried out, her nails digging into his skin as she met his frantic rhythm. 

"It’s all for us...ahh....ahhhh"

They were climbing, soaring towards the edge together. Sonarika was chanting his name now, a desperate mantra. 

"Vikram...ahh....Vikram…you're ripping me apart....ahhh...ahhhhh"

He grunted, his body tensing. 

"You’re mine. All mine"

He was picking up speed, his body slapping against hers, his ball sac smacking against her ass. Now Sonarika had her arms wrapped around his back, and her face buried against his neck. Vikram had let his whole body down on hers, letting Sonarika bear his weight as he hammered into her. Vikram's big shaft pistoning in and out of his soon to be ex-wife's red and dripping pussy.

"Aaaaah!" 

Sonarika cried out. She gripped Vikram's back and dug her heels into his legs as her orgasm hit her. Arching her back, she let out another cry. Vikram was right behind her, giving her two more hard strokes, and driving his cock in her to the base as he unloaded his cum into her. They lay there, panting like dogs, the sweat shining on their bodies. 

Her eyes, glazed with a pleasure Hemant had never given her, locked directly onto his. She was seeing him. Seeing his pain, his devastation.

The pleasure on her face cooled into something else. Something cold and final.

"I’m sorry, Hemant" 

She said, her voice clear and sharp as broken glass even amidst her ragged breaths. 

"But he’s a better man than you in every way. I love him now. Not you"

The rage was instant, a white-hot inferno that erupted from the core of his being. A guttural roar tore from his throat. He clenched his fist, every muscle in his athletic body coiling to strike out at the vision, to shatter it, to make her take the words back—

His knuckles connected not with flesh, but with the cold, unyielding teakwood floor of his villa.

The Goa sun vanished. The sound of the sea cut off. He returned to reality , standing in the very room that represented his heartbreak.

He was on his knees, the echo of his own cry bouncing off the empty walls. The projector still cast the soft, intimate light of the old recording, the ghost of a moan hanging in the air. The weight of it all—the betrayal, the loss, the cruel, detailed vision—crashed down upon him. His body folded, shoulders shaking as the hot, furious tears broke free. He was alone.

For a moment, his hands trembled. But he stopped crying moments later. Now—something colder settled behind his eyes. Behind him, Tara watched everything.

Silently.

Unseen.

Tara observed the change. She turned away, stepping into the edge of the balcony shadow, her phone sliding smoothly into her palm.

She dialed.

"Daraaksh… we’ve arrived"

A low voice responded from the other end.

"So the king has moved to his Fortress"

Tara’s eyes drifted over the open shoreline beyond the villa, the sea water stretching endlessly.

"Yes. The villa is exposed on the coastal side. Open beach. Minimal civilian surveillance"

There was a brief pause. Then Daraaksh spoke carefully, thoughtfully.

"Do not mistake openness for weakness. That beach is not a gap… it’s a funnel"

Tara’s brows furrowed.

"The law enforcement perimeter ends exactly at the main gate. The ocean side is untouched"

"Exactly" Daraaksh replied.

"He wants us to think it’s unguarded"

Tara finally looked back at Hemant—now standing still at the balcony edge, staring at the sea like a man mourning and waiting at the same time.

"Michael King built this villa" Daraaksh continued.

"Not Hemant Kumar"

A slow realization crept into Tara’s expression.

"This place isn’t Hemant's dream home anymore. No longer his refuge" she whispered.

"It’s bait. A trap set by Michael King!"

"Yes" Daraaksh said quietly.

"And he’s daring us to bite"

The call ended. Tara slipped her phone away. For the first time since she’d entered Hemant’s life, she no longer saw just a grieving husband or a broken lover. She saw a strategist hiding behind sorrow. 

She saw Michael King, awake.

And moving his chessboard silently.

                                                                                                                                                                              (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                            (CHAPTER CONTD)

ONE MORNING



The world swam into focus with a sickening lurch. Hemant’s head pounded, a dull ache behind his eyes. He wasn't in his bed. The salt-tinged air was wrong—thicker, heavier, laced with the scent of frangipani instead of the familiar urban brine of Mumbai. He pushed himself up, sheets tangled around his legs, and stared at the unfamiliar french doors leading to a balcony. Beyond, a coastline curved, wild and palm-fringed. Goa.

His heart stuttered.

He swung his legs out, the cool marble floor shocking his bare feet. He turned, and his breath caught. The photos. They were on the wall beside a dresser. Sonarika, her laughter caught in a frozen moment, her head thrown back. And Vikram, his arm possessively around her waist, both of them sun-kissed and smiling in some beachside shack. The same photo from Vikram’s Instagram, the one Hemant had stared at until his vision blurred. It was here. Mocking him. A monument to his failure.

A low, feminine giggle drifted from deeper within the villa. Her laugh. A sound that once lit up his world now sent a spear of ice through his gut. He moved as if pulled by a sinister string, his feet silent on the floor. The hallway opened into a spacious living area, and beyond that, an open gallery faced the roaring sea. And there he was.

Vikram.

Lounging in a low-slung chair, his legs propped on the gallery railing, wearing nothing but a pair of tight red boxers. The same arrogant, relaxed posture from the Bali picture. He was gazing at the horizon, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips as a small smile played on them. Hemant stood frozen, but Vikram showed no reaction. He was a ghost here.

The click of a door. Hemant’s head snapped to the right.

The bathroom door opened, and steam billowed out, carrying her scent—jasmine and vanilla. Sonarika stepped out, a vision that shattered him anew. She wore only a large, crumpled linen shirt, clearly Vikram’s. It drowned her frame, the hem brushing her mid-thigh, but the damp fabric clung to every curve, outlining the swell of her breasts, the peak of her nipples, the dip of her waist. Her dark hair was wet, trailing over her shoulders. A soft, sated smile was on her lips, her eyes fixed with adoration on the man on the gallery.

She walked right past Hemant, close enough to touch, and didn’t even glance his way.

"Still seeing stars from last night" she murmured, her voice husky as she approached Vikram.

Vikram turned, his smile widening. 

"Is that so?"

She leaned into him, and he effortlessly pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. The shirt rode up, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs. 

"Mmm. I can still feel you" she whispered, nuzzling his neck. 

"I can still feel your cum inside me. I might be risking a pregnancy, you know"

Vikram’s hands slid under the shirt, palms smoothing over her bare back. 

"It’s not a risk, Sonarika. It’s a promise. I want my seed to grow in you. I want to see you round with our child"

Hemant’s knees threatened to buckle. He watched, invisible and ignored, as his wife settled more comfortably on her lover’s lap, a intimate shift of her hips.

"And Karan?" Sonarika asked, a trace of hesitation in her voice.

"He’s part of you, so he’s welcome. But a child… our child…"

Vikram’s voice dropped to a possessive rumble. 

"That will bind you to me in a way nothing else can"

Sonarika laughed, a low, thrilling sound. 

"You did more than a decent job last night if that was your plan"

"The plan" Vikram said, his hands tightening on her 

"Isn’t done yet"

In one fluid motion, he stood, holding her easily in that straddling position, her legs wrapped around his waist. He carried her, her laughter mixing with the crash of waves, away from the gallery and towards the bedroom. Hemant followed, a prisoner to his own torment.

Vikram laid her gently on the wide, rumpled bed. He stood over her, his gaze hungry. With deliberate slowness, he began undoing the buttons of the shirt she wore. One. Two. Three. The fabric fell open, revealing her naked body, still glistening with droplets from her shower.

A low groan escaped Vikram. He didn’t wait. He descended, his mouth latching onto one peaked nipple, sucking it deep into the heat of his mouth.

"Mmmhmmmm!" 

Sonarika gasped, her back arching off the bed. Her hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his hair. 

"Yes…suck it baby....I wish I was lactating right now!"

Hemant watched, nausea and rage warring in his throat, as Vikram worshipped her body. His mouth moved from one breast to the other, sucking, licking, nipping with a fervor Hemant had never possessed. Sonarika writhed beneath him, her whimpers and moans painting the air, a symphony of pleasure that was a dagger in Hemant’s soul. Vikram’s hands were everywhere—kneading her breasts, skimming down her ribs, gripping her hips.

Finally, Vikram stood, shucking his red boxers in one impatient motion.

Hemant’s eyes were dragged downward. His dick. Thick, heavy, and already fully erect, it stood proudly against Vikram’s abdomen. A brutal, undeniable truth. It was bigger. Much bigger. A hollow understanding opened inside Hemant. Of course.

Vikram positioned himself between Sonarika’s splayed thighs. He used the head of his cock to tease her, spreading the slickness he found there, circling her clit until she was begging, 

"Please, Vikram… now"

He pushed forward.

Hemant saw it in agonizing detail. The broad crown pressed, stretched, and then disappeared into her, inch by relentless inch. Sonarika’s groan was one of profound satisfaction, her head pressing back into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Ahhhh… you stretch me so full…"

Then Vikram began to move. No gentle buildup. This was a claiming. He set a deep, punishing rhythm from the start, his hips pistoning, driving into her with a force that made the bedframe creak. Each thrust was a full-body commitment, his muscular back and buttocks clenching with the effort.

Slap. Slap. Slap. 

The wet, rhythmic sound of their joining filled the room, underscored by the relentless crash of his balls against her skin. Hemant could only stare, his own body cold, as his wife was taken with a raw, animalistic passion she had never shown him.

"Fuck, you feel incredible" 

Vikram grunted, his pace never faltering. Sonarika’s moans climbed higher, becoming screams that she bit into her own fist.

"hgghh.....hgghhh....It’s… it’s going to be a girl...hghhh" 

Vikram moaned, his thrusts becoming erratic, deeper.

"Ahhh.....ahhh....W-what?" Sonarika panted, her hips meeting his with equal ferocity.

"gghhhh....hhghh....The baby......Our baby.....It’ll be a girl....rrghhh....ghhhh"

"Ahh....No" Sonarika gasped, her eyes flying open to lock with his. 

"Mhmmm......ahhhmm......its a boy…....as handsome as his father.....ahhhh"

Vikram slammed into her, a final, brutal drive that buried him to the hilt. He held there, his entire body rigid. 

"hghh......hhggg......Doesn’t matter…whoever it is.....… will be beautiful because it will be our's......hgghhh.....nngghh......"

Hemant saw it happen. He saw Vikram’s buttocks clench tight, saw the thick vein on his shaft pulse violently. A guttural, triumphant roar tore from Vikram’s throat as he came. Hemant could almost see it—the hot, copious surge of semen traveling up that thick length and pumping deep into Sonarika’s womb. Claiming her. Fertilizing her. Making the fantasy they’d whispered about a tangible, liquid reality right before his eyes.

Vikram collapsed on her, spent, but kept himself buried inside her. 

"Can’t wait to be a parent" He mumbled into her neck.

Sonarika wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him tight. 

"Can’t wait to be pregnant with your child"

A raw, wounded sound ripped from Hemant’s chest. A wail of absolute desolation. He fell to his knees, the world dissolving into black nothingness around the image of their entangled, satisfied bodies.


Hemant spasmed awake, a choked gasp tearing from his throat.

He was in his bed. His bed. In the stark, silent master bedroom of his new villa at Silver Beach, Mumbai. Morning light streamed through his own windows. The air was still, empty.

He was alone.

He touched his face. His cheeks were wet with dried, salty tracks. He had been crying in his sleep.

For a long time, he just lay there, the ghost-sounds of her pleasure and their promises echoing in the hollow of his skull. The dream played on a loop behind his eyes—Vikram’s powerful thrusts, Sonarika’s ecstatic face, the vulgar, intimate slap of skin, the final, devastating release.

Slowly, he pushed himself up. He walked to the expansive bathroom, its surfaces cold and impersonal. He faced the mirror.

The man who stared back had red-rimmed eyes, shadowed with pain. But as he looked, as the dream’s venom coursed through him, something shifted. The fragility in his own gaze burned away, scorched by a new, cold fire. He saw the definition in his shoulders, the result of punishing months at the gym. The hard line of his jaw. This was his body now. Not the body of a cuckolded husband, but a weapon he had forged in his private hell.

The weakness was a relic. The heartbreak was fuel.

A grim, determined calm settled over him. Sonarika would not get to write the end of his story. Her betrayal, her lover, the ghost of the life they’d planned… they were chapters he was closing.

He splashed cold water on his face, washing away the last of the dream-tears. He picked up his phone, his movements deliberate. He scrolled to a contact saved from a lifetime ago, when he got a taste of the elite lifestyle of the city.

Roxy. The call connected on the second ring. 

"Morning, Mr.Kumar" Roxy said, voice smooth as aged whiskey. Hemant didn’t waste time. 


"I need an appointment....for a makeover" he said, calm and certain. 

"Makeover?"

"Yeah , an overhaul for the Elite circle. Make me at my best presentation" 

"Hell yes. I am really looking forward to work with you soon!"

Roxy laughed, intrigued, and booked him an appointment for the morning in few hours.

Mumbai welcomed him with its unapologetic chaos as Hemant stepped into Roxy’s parlour, a posh sanctuary tucked into the city’s beating heart. Glass, steel, and velvet—every surface spoke of reinvention. Roxy was already prepared: racks of tailored jackets, trays of accessories, a palette of colors that promised dominance rather than decoration.

"So tell me Mr.Kumar...what do you expect from the makeover?"

"I want you to enhance whatever qualities I have in my appearance. And make me the point of everyone's eyes. You used to say I had the charm of the best celebrities....so make me one!" 

Hemant said, meeting Roxy’s eyes in the mirror. There was no arrogance in his tone—only inevitability. Roxy’s grin widened. 

"Say no more" he replied, already circling him like a sculptor assessing stone.

The scissors moved with intent. Hair fell away, disciplined and refined, then reshaped into something sharper. A rough auburn dye was layered in—subtle but commanding, catching the light like burnished copper. Hemant’s physique emerged clean and undeniable, the posture of a man who had once been a peak sportsman and remembered exactly how it felt to own space.

Roxy finished with a final adjustment and stepped back, whistling low. 

"I recommend you to avoid Bollywood parties" he said, half-joking, half-serious. 

"Because if Aditya Chopra spots you in one of those parties. He might launch you at his next big project!" 

Hemant smiled, slow and confident, seeing himself anew—not reborn, but reclaimed. As he walked out into Mumbai’s pulse, the city seemed to acknowledge him. The past no longer clung to his shoulders; it sharpened his stride. Hemant Kumar wasn’t running from heartbreak—he was rising above it, dressed for conquest, ready for the chapter where nothing was taken from him again.


THAT AFTERNOON


The country club felt heavier at noon, as if the sun pressed down not with warmth but with expectation. Hemant sat alone beneath a cream umbrella, a glass of untouched iced water sweating beside him. This place had once been effortless—laughter, teasing glances, afternoons that drifted into evenings. Now it was a stage without its co-star.


He had frequented this club with Pranitha. Oddly enough at this moment , he definitely missed her , given his circumstances. Pranitha wasn’t here yet. She was still in Amsterdam, commitments binding her to runways and boardrooms, continents away from the gravity of his silence.

Hemant scrolled through his phone, thumb moving on instinct. Media sites bloomed across the screen—Pranitha at a fashion event, radiant and assured, standing beside actress Alia Bhatt. Cameras loved them both. Her own profile echoed the same story: smiles, champagne flutes, a world spinning forward without him. Hemant was aware about her 'exotic' life. He remembered the old rumors , of how Pranitha was involved with a famous actress. And now seeing her upclose images with Alia made his mind go to a place that made up images in his head for few moments. He exhaled slowly, a dull ache settling in his chest. Even Pranitha, the one presence that had softened the edges of his days, was gone for now. Tamanna has taken Shraddha to a vacation trip to Germany. Leaving Hemant alone in his own sufferings.

His mind played with him next, dragging him back into familiar nightmares. Sonarika appeared, as she always did in his dreams, never alone. Vikram was there too—too real, too close. Every dream stitched them tighter together, as if his subconscious refused to grant him the mercy of distance.

Hemant rose and walked toward the exterior deck, overlooking the city. The club’s massive swimming pool shimmered under the sun. Once, long ago and not far enough away, he had met Pranitha here, a sight he can never forget as she was in a bikini, bold and grace. Today, a young couple occupied the water, playful and intimate, their ease cutting deeper than any insult.

His mind twisted the scene without warning. The couple’s faces blurred, reshaped, and suddenly it was Vikram and Sonarika in the pool. He heard Vikram’s voice clearly now. 

"Priya" he said casually.  

"What?" Sonarika turned, confused.

"If we have a girl, I want to name her Priya" Vikram smiled.  

Sonarika’s face softened, and she asked. 

"And if it’s a boy?" 

Vikram shrugged. 

"Hadn’t thought about it. You tell me" She paused, then said quietly. 

"Akash. I’ve liked that name for a while. It suits you—dashing, bold" 

Vikram laughed, pulling her closer. 

"I wanted a girl" he said.

"But Akash isn’t bad. Let him be free and dedicated like his mother" 

Sonarika kissed him, sunlight fracturing around them.

The vision snapped apart. The pool was just a pool again. The couple were strangers. Hemant’s hands gripped the railing as he realized he had hallucinated the entire exchange, his mind filling in a future he feared but could no longer deny.

Standing there, facing the skyline, the visions didn’t feel like torture anymore. They felt prophetic. Sonarika would move to Goa soon. She would live that life—sunlit, complete, unburdened by the wreckage she left behind. It would become real for her.

Hemant wiped his eyes quickly, embarrassed by tears no one was watching him shed. The city sprawled endlessly before him, indifferent and alive. His mind forged a future, Sonarika would build a perfect life with her new man. And he—Hemant Kumar—would be left to assemble meaning from the fragments of family still standing, carrying the weight of a love that hadn’t survived, and a future that suddenly felt very, very quiet.


FEW HOURS LATER AT YOD INDUSTRIES


YOD Industries felt different that afternoon—alive in a way Hemant hadn’t noticed in weeks. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his corner office, glinting off steel models of armored vehicles and framed patents lining the walls. His phone buzzed softly on the desk. Kamya’s monthly progress report. He opened it, scanning numbers that didn’t just look good—they looked historic.

Revenue curves were climbing at a near-vertical angle. The defense manufacturing wing was surging, the newly built weaponized ATVs drawing praise for their agility and modular fire systems. The BTRs YOD had recently submitted were being spoken of in briefings, not just reports—quiet admiration from the Indian Army, the kind that meant repeat orders. Supply chains had expanded, new vendors onboarding weekly, demand pushing harder than projections had dared to assume. For the first time in days, Hemant leaned back and smiled without forcing it.

Another notification followed, this one carrying more weight. ANVIL. He read the message twice, then a third time. YOD’s latest invention—the EMP-protected digital visor helmets—had not only impressed the private military contractor, but had caught the attention of BLACKROCK, a global defense giant , the very corporation that was responsible for his second birth. They planned to formally brand the product with YOD’s name. Not a subcontract. Not a footnote. A signature. YOD Industries, etched permanently into a flagship defense product.

There was a knock at the door before the thought could fully settle. Vaibhav and Kamya walked in first, both wearing expressions they clearly couldn’t hide. Behind them came Raquel, poised and smiling, confidence following him in his tailored jacket. All three greeted him at once, warmth filling the room. Hemant noticed the energy immediately. This wasn’t routine good news—this was celebration-level good.

He raised an eyebrow, amused. 

"What's the occasion?" 

Before anyone else could answer, Raquel stepped forward, eyes bright. 

"Bhaijaan..." he said, voice proud 

"The May cover of Fortune magazine is out" 

He placed the magazine on his desk and gently slid it toward him. Hemant’s breath caught—not in shock, but in recognition. The image stared back at him: sharp, composed, powerful. The photoshoot from weeks ago, another one of Roxy’s vision executed to perfection. He looked regal, commanding, dressed in a business vest over a tieless satin shirt, striped vest and pants cutting a silhouette that spoke of authority without apology. And above it all, in bold lettering, a tagline that felt like a verdict rather than marketing: 

A NEW KING ON THE RISE.


He flipped through the pages slowly. The article traced YOD’s journey from its fragile beginnings—him, a former IT professional daring to cross into weapons manufacturing—to its evolution into security appliances, advanced defense systems, and now global relevance. But the focus wasn’t just the company. It was him. His discipline. His resilience. His refusal to stay confined to one identity. An empire in the making, rooted deep, engineered to last.

Hemant closed the magazine and looked up. 

"None of this" he said calmly. 

"Exists without the people who believed in it" He gestured around the room. 

"My workers. My engineers. My partners. And my clients—who trusted us before we had proof" 

Kamya laughed softly. 

"Sir" she said. 

"This is your moment , not YODs. I think this time the recognition should be yours” 

Vaibhav nodded in agreement.

"Thank you for that" Hemant replied, a faint smirk breaking through. 

"But I was confident and resiliant enough because I had a good set of people I can keep my faith around with" 

Raquel smiled wider. 

"Bhaijaan, you’ve brought out your best part for the world to see. This cover proves it. YOD isn’t just a weapons company anymore"

Hemant stood and walked toward the far end of the office, where a cloth-covered frame rested against the wall. With a single motion, he pulled it away. Beneath it, bold and unmistakable, was a new banner—clean lines, modern typography, undeniable intent: 

YOD ENTERPRISE

He turned back to them, eyes steady, conviction unshaken. 

"We’ve outgrown the old definition" he said. 

"This is our next chapter!"

                                                                                                                                                                                                         (CHAPTER TO BE CONTD)

[Harry Jordan]

                                                                                                                                                                                          (CHAPTER CONTD)

THAT EVENING IN MUMBAI



The cold, crisp taste of the light beer did little to wash away the aftertaste of the dream. Hemant sat at the hotel bar, the low hum of conversation a distant buzz. The Fortune magezine was the talk of the day. Hemant recieved congratulatory calls from Simon and Harper and Kunal in the evening before he arrived here. YOD Industries was thriving, a fortress he’d built with his own hands, but the victory felt hollow. Even now , at this moment , he was celebrating this great victory alone. Even Kunal had some business commitments to share a drink with him. In his already conflicted brain , Hemant felt like fate was yet again punishing him for his achievements. He remembered the social media posts of Pranitha. He reckoned she might be busy with her movie star friend right now. He considered calling Tamanna but reckoned an international call for something trivial like this will be stupid.  His gaze drifted across the dimly lit room, settling on a young couple sharing a candlelit dinner. Their hands intertwined, their laughter soft.

His vision blurred.

The woman’s dark hair became Sonarika’s. The man’s confident smile morphed into Vikram’s. He saw it all again—the intimate glance, the unspoken promise, the kind of romance that had dismantled him brick by brick. His knuckles whitened around the beer bottle.

A sharp, rising voice shattered the phantom scene.

"I am telling you, there is a problem with your machine!"

He blinked, the ghosts dissolving. Near the entrance, a woman in a stunning emerald green gown was gesturing emphatically at the flustered hotel manager. The dress had a daring slit that revealed a long, smooth leg. Even from behind, the posture was familiar—poised, yet vibrating with frustration.

He moved without thinking, the industrialist in him taking over. As he approached, she turned, and recognition flashed in her wide, kohl-rimmed eyes.

"Ananya?"

"Hemant!" Ananya Pandey’s face shifted from annoyance to relief, then back to embarrassment. 



"This is so silly. My card is being declined. I swear, there are funds"

Hemant offered the manager a placating smile and a nod. 

"Put it on my tab, please"

"Hemant, no, you don’t have to—" Ananya began, her cheeks flushing.

"What are friends for?" 

He said, his voice steadier than he felt. He guided her away from the staring patrons. 

"Unless you’re treating me like a stranger now?"

"No....never....you will never be a stranger for me"

"Good....then let me handle this so that we can leave"

Saying that , Hemant paid the bill with his card. They both walked outside as the valet brought in his BE 6 to the hotel entrance. Eventually they drove off as Mumbai's traffic slowed their commute.

"So how is life"

"Pretty great actually.....was actually in the hotel for a personal success for me"

"Alone? What was the occasion?"

"I am in the May cover of the Fortune magazine"

"WHAT!? Hemant that is big news! When did you do that?"

"The shoot happened couple of weeks ago , Roxy prepped me for the shoot and Manish insisted I do"

"That is great of hear , I cannot wait to see the pictures..does Pranitha know?"

"I don't know honestly......we barely talked since she's gone to Amsterdam"

"Oh....that is so sad.....is that why you were celebrating all alone?"

"Nah.....I celebrated it with the company folks before evening....I just....wanted some me time"

"And now here you are.....taking an actress for a ride"

"That too....."

There was silence between them for a few seconds after which Ananya asked.

"So...Pranitha and you....are you guys serious?"

"Not really.....I am not exactly at a space where I can make something serious..."

"So...its like a fling?"

"Sort of.....besides....nothing exactly happened yet"

"What? but she said you both were involved for months now"

"That is a rumor she spread....apparently she is trying to protect me among the elites....a man like me will be easy target for the 'gold diggers'....."

"Oh......so she didn't....sleep with you?"

"Nope....just a kiss and a phone sex from Amsterdam.... she is probably scissoring Alia right now!"

Ananya raised an eyebrow and giggled. Hemant nervously laughed as well as he tried to course correct.

"Sorry....its just.....I saw her social media profiles....and she is with her at Amsterdam so.."

"No I understand Hemant....and you might be probably right....she might be doing that"

"Yeah....left me hanging.......my suffering never ends" Hemant said comically mocking his state.

"Awww....poor baby....but I believe you got even with her with Mrunal right."

"How do you know?"

"She told me....obviously....."

"Wait....you guys gossip.......about me?"

"Well....Pranitha's fake stories....painted a very unique picture about you.....so some of us were excited..."

"And you believed them?"

"I initially didn't.......but then Mrunal told me her experiences and that....intrigued me"

Ananya said with a grin. Hemant noticed the change in the atmosphere. He felt the urge to take the next step and he started intiating it.

"Then I only have one question Ananya......do you have any other plans for tonight"

"Not at the moment no.......why?"

"Because I’m taking you somewhere special" he said, a new edge in his tone. 

The sight of his new villa, bathed in moonlight against the black sea, drew a genuine gasp from her. Ananya was very much surprised by the change in Hemant's life right now. He was truly becoming one among the elites and this bungalow was evidence to that. Tara, greeted them with wide eyes. 

"Ananya....this is Tanya , my personal assistance....and you might already know who she is"

"Yes sir.....I am definitely familiar" Tara said with a smile hiding her excitement seeing a celebrity. 
 
"Ananya will be staying the night here. Make all the arrangements she will need in the morning"

"Okay sir"

As Hemant led Ananya away who was intrigued by the whole place and looking around , Tara calmly observed them and realized what Daraaksh said to her about Hemant was slowly turning into reality.

Hemant led Ananya upstairs, not to the master suite, but to the other room. The one he’d designed for Sonarika. The one meant for forgetting the world. The walls were soundproofed, the centerpiece a massive bed on a raised platform facing a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out onto the endless, dark sea.

Ananya stepped inside, her eyes taking in the opulent, sensual decor—the plush rugs, the low lighting, the sheer curtains. 

"Hemant… this room is…"

"A masterpiece....." he finished, shrugging off his suit jacket and his shirt. 

He let his eyes travel over her then. The gown clung to her slim, youthful figure, highlighting the gentle swell of her breasts, the narrow waist. She was desire personified, a living antidote to the poison in his veins.

He came up behind her, his hands settling on her bare shoulders. She sighed, a shudder running through her.

"Are you sure about this?" she whispered, leaning back into his solid chest.

"Damn sure....and besides...." he said, his voice rough. 

"I know you want this more than anything"

She turned in his arms, her eyes searching his. Then a slow, understanding smile touched her lips. 

"Just don't hold back because I am petite and tiny" she murmured, her gaze dropping to his mouth. 

"I prefer my man manly and rough!"

She closed the distance, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was not soft, not tentative. It was a claim. Her mouth opened under his, and the taste of her—mint and wine—ignited something feral in him. His hands slid down her back, finding the zipper of her dress. He pulled it down in one slow, deliberate motion.


She leaned into him and kissed him softly. Hemant grabbed her waist and pulled her even tighter against him. He loved the feel of her slim and sexy body and her hard nipples were poking through her dress already. The kiss got much heavier as their tongues met and began mashing together. She pulled his inner vest over his head and threw it on the ground. He moved the clasps of her dress to the side , eventually sliding it from the shoulders and was rewarded by the sight of her great tits and impressive nipples. 

"Go ahead! No need to stand on ceremony" She said with the cutest smile. 

Hemant opened his mouth and gently began to suck on her left nipple. 

"Hmmm! That's nice" 

She admitted as his tongue moved in circles around the tender nub. His other hand was gently caressing her other breast and pinching the nipple, making sure to have it ready for his mouth. 

"Ooooo" Ananya cooed as Hemant moved his mouth to it.

Hemant pulled down the rest of her dress and dropped to his knees. She was wearing a light green thong that matched her dress and looked sexy against her skin. He was on his knees and was sucking away at her tits, he couldn't stop. He kept jumping from one to another. Licking and slurping all over one while kneading the other. He pulled down her panties finally revealing her wet and juicy pussy. He sat her down on the nearby chair and made her spread her legs wide. He had full access to her cunt and could no longer wait to dive into it. He jumped right in with his tongue. Licking and slurping up all of the juices that had already accumulated. She tasted wonderful and he could not get enough of her. Hemant pushed as much of his tongue as he could into her dripping cunt and fucked her with it slowly. Going back and forth, sliding between her folds. Ananya loved every second of it. She was moaning and playing with her own nipples. 

Her clit was sticking out and he thought it also deserved some attention. He guided his tongue towards it, licking through her pussy before he could get to it. 

"Ahhhh" She moaned loudly as he finally made contact. 

Once he did he would not release it. Hemant continued running his tongue on the little bud making her buck her hips against his face. He pushed a finger into her and finger fucked her as he sucked at her clit mercilessly. 

"Ahhh wow. Don't stop! mhmmm..." 
Ananya was now going crazy pumping her hips against his face. She was so close to cumming her pussy was basically raining juices into his mouth. He added a second finger in her cunt and fucked her faster. 

"Just like that!! ahhhhhh" 

He didn't think it was possible but even more of her juices were deposited onto his tongue. She wouldn't stop cumming and continued to buck against his face as her body continued to convulse in the chair.

"Stop! Please stop Hemant!" She begged him pushing his head away from her pulsating cunt.

"But you just told me not to!" Hemant replied as he pulled himself away from her pussy.

"That was before you made me cum like hell"

"True. You okay?"

"Yeah i'm fine. I just need to catch my breath. You give a mouthjob that can rival a Lesbian!" 

She said laughing at him.

"I've picked up a few things here and there" 

He replied thinking about a past he regrets to move on from. Still on his knees Hemant kisses Ananya deeply. She opened her mouth inviting his tongue. His hands found her gorgeous tits again almost as though they had a mind of their own. He groped them and she moaned into his mouth. Her hands made their way to his pants and groped at his hard dick through his pants. It was his turn to moan as Ananya finally pulled them down releasing his hard cock. The next thing he knew he was overwhelmed by the feeling of her mouth engulfing his dick, he moaned deeply and grabbed her hair and pushed his hips sending his dick even deeper in her mouth. Ananya was such a good cocksucker, she just took him down her throat and grabbed his ass. She let him fuck her mouth and he did just that. Hemant had fistfulls of her hair and was pumping his hard dick down her throat faster and harder.

Hemant could no longer take it and lifted her off the ground and spun her towards the glass wall. She stuck into it as he aimed and pierced her wet pussy with his hard dick. 

"Ahhh!" 

They both groaned fully enjoying the the sensations of it all. He grabbed her hips and banged her viciously. 

"Ahhhh! Ahhhh! shit! Ahhh!" 

She screamed out as Hemant pulled her into the bed with his dick still fully embedded within her. She pulled off of him and lay on all fours sticking her ass straight into the air. He got on the bed and knelt behind her, he put his dick right back into the warm chamber it had only just escaped from. Her pussy was tight and she had a deceptively great ass that was made for fucking. He just loved watching it shake and quake whenever he drove his dick hard into the sexy movie star.

Ananya used her hand to rub her clit. Hemant used both of his to grab her near perfect tits and drive her body even harder onto his pulsating cock that was only waiting to unleash all of the content of his balls into her. 

"Ahhh......Ahhhh......Hemant don't stop.........ahhhh....please!" 

She continued to yell at him as his hips continued to pump just as quickly as before. Ananya spread her legs further giving him even deeper access to her wonderfully tight pussy. Hemant could feel the cum rumbling in his balls and he was moments from erupting. 

"Ahhhhh!" Ananya screamed out. 

She was close as well and he wanted to hold off until she came before letting go. Thankfully he wouldn't have to wait too long as Ananya detonated all over his dick; her pussy squirting juices all over the both of them. Hemant sped up his rhythm wanting to finally cum. He had so much cum stored up just waiting to be let out he could no longer hold back. His orgasm took him by storm. It started almost in the pit of his stomach and spread out through the rest of his body as he pumped gallon after gallon of cum into the juicy pussy he had the privilege of fucking.

Ananya and Hemant just lay on the bed trying to catch their breaths. He wrapped his arms around her sexy body and held her close to his chest. She cradled her head and made herself comfortable.

"Well....I can definitely say.....Mrunal undersold you!"

"Really?"

"Yeah......she claimed that you were this....sweet and tender but rough when needed but......you have a beast in you......"

"Lets just say I am going through a path of self discovery right now"

"Well if that self discovery leads to more fantastic sex like this then......I hereby encourage you more.."

"Thanks....I hope I didn't hurt you in any way...."

"No Hemant.....you just gave me exactly what I wanted.....I didn't want tender.....lets just say I have a time..."

"I figured....besides.....your petite figure is something I really enjoyed pleasuring!"

"I am honestly confused......why did your wife leave you if you were this good..."

Hemant felt a whirlwind of emotions when Sonarika was referred at this moment. He responded after a few seconds.

"Lets just say this awakening happened......after she left me so.....she was stuck with a poor version of me!"

"Well.....her loss....my gain...."

"For now....perhaps..."

They kissed slowly initially, but the seconds continued to pass and there was no pulling back from either one of them. Hemant rolled her on her back and settled on top of her. He continued massaging her tongue against his as he felt his erection return.

"Hmmm, looks like the beast has awakened again!" 

Said Ananya before spreading her legs and wrapping them around his waist. The head of his dick penetrated her and slowly went into her.

"I guess so!" 

Hemant finally replied as the warmth of her tight cavity drove his brain insane. He wrapped his arms around her and pumped his hips slowly. Enjoying the tightness and wetness of her pussy. This time he was much slower and deliberate with his movements. He wanted to get Sonarika off her mind for a little bit so he focused to bring the beautiful starlet below him pleasure. He drove his dick deep into her, pulled almost all the way back out before driving it all the way back in. He would change the speed on almost every other stroke. He would go between a long slow deep stroke to a very hard quick pound. Ananya loved it. It had her completely off guard and her hands were practically clawing at his back. They continued to kiss and his hands were now firmly playing with her hard nipples.

Hemant lifted one of her legs and put it on his shoulder so he could get deeper into her pussy. He sped up his pace a little bit. He looked down and watched her awesome breast just bouncing all over the place. It was really a sight to see. Hemant lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth as he fucked her. 

"AHHHHHHH" Ananya screamed out. 

"Just like that!! I'm GONNNAA FUCKEN CUM!!"

Hemant kept the pace as it was. He stared down at her cute face as she got closer and closer to cumming. 

"AHHHHHH....AAHHHHH SHIT!!" 

Her eyes were shut tightly as her orgasm overtook her. He continued slamming his thick dick into her enjoying the way her pussy would contract as she came so damn hard. He lifted the other leg and put it on the same shoulder as the other. Hemant was fucking her hard now. His dick was practically ramming into her sending ripples across her ass cheeks. She bit down on her lip as another orgasm rocked her body. He was almost there as well. He kept pumping into her until he could feel his cum about to burst through his cock head.

"Ahhhhh! Ahhh gooooddd! SO FUCKEN GOOD!" 

Ananya moaned as Hemant felt her pussy vibrate and shake from the inside. She came so hard that his cock was almost displaced from her hungry pussy. He held on for dear life and continued to push in harder. 

"AH! AH! AH! AH! AH! AHHHHHHHHH!" Ananya shouted as she was hit by another orgasm.

Hemant pulled his cock out and turned Ananya around so that her perky ass was facing him. He held onto her hips as he slipped his cock into her again. He knew he wouldn't last much longer but he couldn't resist the temptation of fucking young and tempting Ananya Pandey from behind. Ananya laid her head on the bed and just let him have his way with her, enjoying the way her ass cheeks shook with every hard thrust.

"OHHH FUCK! ANANYA! I'M HERE!!!!" 

Hemant yelled as his cock exploded deep into her cunt. His entire body shook as cum continued to shoot deep into this young Bollywood star!
His release was volcanic. Thick, hot jets of cum erupted from him, pumping deep into her core. He could feel it, and so could she, the intense, pulsing spurts, each one a claim, a retaliation, a proof of passion. He spilled into her for what felt like an eternity, until he was utterly spent, his body collapsing onto hers.

He slid out, spent and softening, and a river of his release followed, oozing out of her and onto the sheets beneath them. They lay in a tangled, sweaty, sticky heap, the only sounds their ragged breaths. Exhaustion claimed them both, pulling them under into a deep, dreamless sleep before a single word could be spoken, their bodies a mess of sweat and spend under the mute witness of the moonlit sea.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                  (TO BE CONTD)