[heygiwriter]

Chapter 10 – Nivi’s Other Side through Aravind Eyes.



The car hummed along the Chennai roads, Aara chattering in the back seat about the cake she wanted at the party.

Nivi smiled, hand on Prem's thigh. “You seem happier now.”

Prem nodded, pushing the morning's shadow away. “Yeah. Just excited for tonight.”

Aara giggled. “Surprise for Amma?”

Prem winked at Nivi. “Maybe.”

Meanwhile, across town in his glass office, Aaravind sat staring at an old photo on his phone — Nivi in college saree, fair skin glowing, smile innocent.


His mind reeled back twelve years.

Unlike what Prem thought — Nivi innocent, naive, the sheltered girl who needed protecting — she wasn't.

Not even close.

She was bolder, sharper, more confident than anyone gave her credit for — a quiet fire burning under that soft-spoken exterior, fair skin, and polite smile.

Aaravind knew that side. Only he did.

It started with her father — his own father's old friend from business circles — pulling him aside on the first day of college, voice low with concern.

“Nivi's been in girls' college her whole life. First co-ed for her. Treat her like your sister, da. Help her adjust. No boys around for twelve-plus years — she might struggle with the new environment, unseen troubles.”

Aaravind nodded, smiled the good-boy smile. “Of course, uncle. Don't worry.”
Nivi treated him special from day one — trusted instantly, no awkward pauses, no shy glances away like with other boys.
She'd call him for notes, sit next to him in canteen, share laughs without hesitation.
Maybe the "family" introduction sealed it. Or some instant bond clicked — she never felt odd with him, never pulled back.
Aaravind had been in love with Swetha, his college sweetheart — intense, all-consuming. But different colleges split them, distance turning passion to silence.
To fill the gap, he flirted — casual, harmless in his mind — with girls in his department.
Nivi was one. Beautiful, fair-skinned, soft-spoken voice that made you lean in.
He hated Prem's gang — different department, constant rivalry, cricket fights turning ugly.
Prem hated him back — glares across campus, muttered insults.
Then the cultural fest.

Prem on stage, dancing — confident moves, crowd cheering.
Nivi in the audience, watching.

Her eyes — meaningful, locked on him, soft but intense, like she saw something no one else did.
Aaravind felt it like a punch.

Furious. Strange jealousy surging.

Why him? That nobody?

That moment — urge hit hard.
I want her for myself.
Not just flirt.
Claim.

Possess.
He started flirting.
But Nivi deflected smoothly — knew about Swetha, turned topics, dropped calls for "study."
Never rude. Always polite.
One evening, Aaravind called her, voice casual but laced with intent.
"Hey, Nivi, what are you doing alone in that room? Thinking about me?"
She laughed lightly, but her tone was firm. "Aravind, stop. You have Swetha. And I have homework. Bye."
Click.

She cut the call without hesitation, no giggles, no playing along.

Aaravind stared at the phone, frustrated but impressed. She's not giggling like the others. Sharp. Confident. Doesn't need to play games to push back.

She never missed industrial visits, events — eager, participating, asking questions that showed she was thinking big.

From her words during those trips, he learned her dream: Start a company, like their fathers built from scratch.

"Look at what they did," she'd say, eyes lighting up as they toured a factory. "Starting with nothing, turning it into an empire. I want that — to create something, be my own boss."

But her father dismissed it — "Be a good girl, marry after studies. Business is for men."
Aaravind saw the fire in her, the way she clenched her fist slightly when talking about it.
He found a plot.

Another day, he called, starting with flirt.

"Nivi, you looked stunning in that saree today. Imagine if we skipped class... just you and me, somewhere quiet."

She paused, voice cooling. "Aravind, enough. That's not funny."

Before she could hang up, he switched seamlessly. "Wait, speaking of skipping — remember that company visit last week? The guy who started from a garage, now exporting worldwide? His story's incredible. No backing, just grit."

She stayed on the line. "Yeah... he bootstrapped everything. No loans, no family money. That's what I admire. Building from scratch, no shortcuts."

They talked for 20 minutes — her voice animated, ideas flowing about innovation, risks, scaling.

He wove in darker sides gradually, testing limits.

"Those founders... they take what they want. No apologies. Like in life — sometimes you have to grab opportunities, even if they're forbidden."

She chuckled. "Like sex before marriage? No, Aravind. That's not 'opportunity' — that's mess. Focus on the business part."

Deflected again — bold, calling it out, but steering back without breaking the conversation.

Sharp. Confident.

He pushed a little. "Come on, Nivi. Imagine the thrill — something secret, exciting. Like us skipping to a cafe, just talking... or more."

She sighed. "Aravind, you have Swetha. And I have standards. Let's stick to company stories — tell me about that startup that failed first then succeeded."

He laughed, switched back.

But he saw it — she knew his game, played along on her terms, never letting it cross her line.

Bolder than anyone realized.


Things turned awkward the day she admitted — first to him, of all people — that she loved Prem.

They were on a college industrial visit, sitting in the back of the bus on the return trip. The group was noisy, but Nivi leaned close, voice low, eyes shining with a mix of excitement and nerves.

"Aravind... I think I'm in love. With Prem."

He froze, smile stuck on his face.

Prem. That rival department guy. The one he hated.

"Why him?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

She shrugged, cheeks flushing slightly. "He... sees me. Really sees me. Not just the quiet girl."

Aaravind felt fury rise — hot, possessive.


That night, he started the rumors.

Quiet at first — whispers to his teammates.

"Nivi? Yeah, we've been hooking up. Fucked her daily after classes."

Word spread like wildfire.

Department chats, canteen gossip, anonymous notes.

"Nivi and Aaravind — doing it every day."

Some believed. Some laughed. Some pitied Prem's "rival."
But Nivi?

She never reacted.

Next day in class, she sat beside him like always, asked for notes, smiled the same polite smile.
Spoke normally — about assignments, visits, dreams.
No anger. No confrontation
.
He couldn't stand it.

One afternoon in the library corner, he asked directly.

"Why no reaction to the rumors about us? Everyone's talking — saying we... you know."

She looked up from her book, smiled calmly — confident, unshaken.

"No need to prove myself to anyone, Aravind. Rumors are just words. And just for that, I won't break a good bond."

Her eyes steady, voice firm.

She never knew he started them
.
Never suspected.

Her strength, determination — he saw it all clearly then.

The way she rose above it, focused on her path.

Knew if she loved Prem this deeply, she'd go with him one day — fight for him, leave everything.

He wanted to taste her — even if Prem married her.

Break that strength.

Make her his, just once.

The obsession hardened.





The 10 minutes before Prem burst into the indoor sports room were a blur of confusion and escalating tension for Nivi, her trust in Aaravind fracturing with every passing second.

She had followed him eagerly, excited by his promise of meeting a prominent industrialist who could offer insights into starting a company. "He's inspecting the room," Aaravind had said, leading her away from the post-match buzz. "Just us — he'll be here soon."

But as they entered the dimly lit space, decorations half-hung for the ceremony, the door clicked shut behind them. No guest in sight.

"Where is he?" Nivi asked, glancing around the empty room, her voice steady but with a hint of unease. She smoothed her saree, fair skin glowing under the flickering lights, unaware how Aaravind's eyes lingered on the curve of her waist.
Aaravind turned, his smile twisting into something darker. "He'll be here. But first… just one kiss, Nivi. That's all. Then I'll take you to him."

She froze, eyes widening. "No, Aaravind. That's not funny. Open the door."

When she tried to move past him toward the exit, he grabbed her from behind, arms wrapping around her waist like a vice. His hands slid up quickly, grabbing her breasts through the blouse, squeezing roughly. Nivi gasped, struggling, but his grip pinned her against him.

"Stop! Let go!" she shouted, voice shaking with anger and fear.

He ignored her, burying his face in her neck, kissing forcibly — lips pressing hard, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Nivi twisted, trying to pull away, but the touch sent an unwanted shiver through her — a moan escaping her lips despite the revulsion.

Aaravind paused, realizing. Neck's her weak spot.

He spun her around to face him, trying to hug from the front, hands fumbling to pull her closer. "See? You like it. Just give in."

She resisted fiercely, pushing at his chest. "No! Stop!"

That’s when the door burst open — Prem charging in, fist connecting with Aaravind's jaw, sending him reeling. The grapple, the iron rod, the scar — the rest was history.

They proposed because of him.

Ironically, his twisted plan in the indoor room — the grab, the force — brought Prem and Nivi together.
Prem's rescue turned fear into gratitude, gratitude into confession.

The hidden letter, the proposal under streamers.

All because Aaravind pushed too far.

She distanced after.

Nivi pulled back — polite but firm.

No more long calls. No sitting together in canteen.

Eyes averted when passing in corridors.

She knew something changed, even if she didn't suspect him fully.

Aaravind seethed, watching her with Prem — stolen glances turning to secret meetings.

Months later, he struck again.

Quiet whispers to mutual contacts, "exaggerated" stories to her father through family channels.

The beating on Prem — four men in shadows.

The rushed arranged marriage — 38-year-old hotel owner, "stable."

Spoiled their plans perfectly.

Almost.

They eloped anyway.

Now, twelve years later.

Prem has her — married, child, building company.

With orders that could come from him? Aaravind's firm in position to approve or block.
No.

Pending story.

Unfinished business.

This time, he'll make them surrender.

Force Prem to give her up — even for a week.

Take her.

Break her.

Aaravind resolute, jaw set.

He grabbed his keys, suit jacket.

The party hall — Prem's place., He got to know from a man whom he send to follow Prem..

He'd arrive uninvited.
Make his demand.
Watch Prem crumble.
Smile as Nivi's eyes widened.
This time, she will suck my cock before Prem..

That's his plan....

[heygiwriter]

How about posting Images? like from AI generated to give a glimpse of character i designed in mind.. is that allowed?

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 11 – The Anniversary


The party hall was alive with warmth and laughter. About twenty people — old colleagues from Prem's trading days, a few new faces from his growing team, and Pratap as the honored guest — filled the space with toasts and memories. Aara darted between legs, chasing balloons, her giggles cutting through the chatter.

Prem watched Nivi circulate, saree shimmering under the lights, fair skin glowing, curves graceful as she smiled and thanked everyone. His heart swelled. The surprise in his pocket felt heavier by the minute.

He pulled her aside near the cake table. “Nivi, I hid something for you in the hall. Find it — your anniversary gift.”

Nivi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hidden? Okay…”

She searched discreetly — behind decorations, under tables — until Aara, jumping excitedly, pointed to a decorative box on a side table.

Nivi opened it.

Inside: a sleek keycard and engraved plaque.

Prem Infinity Solutions

Her eyes widened at the engraved plaque, then softened — not with joy, but something quieter, almost resigned.

She turned to him, voice calm and measured. “Congratulations, Prem.”

He beamed, heart racing, expecting more — tears of happiness, a jump into his arms, that wide smile she used to give when dreams felt close.

But she extended her hand formally, like a colleague at a meeting.

He took it, grip lingering, confusion creeping in. “I thought you’d jump in joy. Don’t you remember? It’s your dream — starting a company. I’m doing it. For us.”

Nivi’s smile stayed polite, but her eyes turned distant, as if looking past him.

“Congrats, darling,” she said softly. “But if I was the one starting it… maybe I’d jump. This is yours. How can I take credit for your doings?”

Prem felt something crack inside — small, sharp, like glass under pressure.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice dropping. “Yours/mine — it’s ours. We’re husband and wife.”

She tilted her head slightly, gaze steady. “What’s my role in the company?”

He laughed, trying to lighten the moment, brush it off as teasing. “Don’t joke. Your time is perfect — home, Aara. I’ll take care. Consider it your company; I’m just managing it anyway.”

He laughed again, a bit shameless, expecting her to join in.

But he caught it — her face turning cold, sudden, like a light switching off behind her eyes.

The warmth gone.

Smile frozen.

He clapped quickly, forcing cheer. “Okay, okay — surprise done. Let’s cut the cake.”

They stepped to the table together, knives in hand, smiles plastered for the crowd.

Flashes from phones.
Cheers.
But between them, the air felt heavier.
The cake cut clean.
The moment didn't.


Everything went normal again — toasts, gifts, Pratap arriving with a warm envelope and hug.


Prem felt guilty — the old suspicion about Pratap's closeness to Nivi. But Pratap sensed nothing, or pretended not.


Almost an hour later.


A luxury white car pulled into the parking — the one from Nivi's morning accident.


Rohan stepped out, suited, tall frame commanding even in casual stride.


He headed straight to the office room adjacent to the hall — his routine monthly check on accounts and progress.


One of his entities — premium party halls chain.


Coincidence he came tonight.
As he browsed systems in the quiet office, eyes scanning reports, his gaze drifted to the hall monitor feed.


Nivi.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 11 Continuation .... 


Nivi.


Graceful in saree, laughing with guests.


This woman… morning accident. Now here?
Intrigued.


He'd forgotten the bump almost immediately — busy day.
But second time in hours.
Her fair beauty, curves, innocent panic from morning — now composed, glowing.


He measured her with his eyes, can't help it.
PA entered with file.


Rohan removed suit jacket, rolled sleeves — looked like formal staff checking accounts.


Suddenly, watchman reported commotion.

Rohan glanced at screen — man arguing with host.


Aaravind's voice cut through the warm buzz of the hall, sharp and loud.
"You promised full sign-off! Used funds for demos without approval — I'll sue!"
The crowd tensed instantly — conversations died, glasses paused mid-air, eyes turning.


Prem's face flushed with rage and humiliation.


Rohan, in the adjacent office reviewing accounts, frowned at the monitor feed. Rohan hates commotion in his property.


He grabbed a random file from the desk — prop to blend — rolled his sleeves higher, and walked out casually, like any staff member checking noise.


Approached the group just as Aaravind shifted tactic, his tone turning oily, eyes fixed on Nivi with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.


"Fine, no legal for now," he said, loud enough for nearby guests to hear. 


"But we need to settle this properly. Full commitment, like we discussed. Sit down, talk terms... maybe Nivi can join. She always had a good head for business — knows how to smooth things over, close a deal the right way."


The words hung cryptic, layered — "smooth things over," "close a deal" — but the leer in his gaze as it raked her saree-clad figure, lingering on her curves, made the implication unmistakable to the crowd.


Whispers rippled immediately.
"Did he just...?"
"Talking about her like that?"
"Disgusting."


Prem froze a second, then fury exploded. "The amount is deposited by your company! I didn't touch a rupee other than for demos and its submitted at your office — it's all accounted!"


Aaravind smirked. "Verbal commitment means nothing. Only written. You came to my office this morning for the sign-off — and walked away without it. Return the money, or I'll sue. Blacklist you in every circle. No one will touch your little startup."


Prem's jaw clenched, determined. Silence — but not surrender.


Aaravind saw the silence, leaned in closer to Nivi with that oily smile, voice low but loud enough for the nearby crowd to hear.


"Maybe Nivi can come with me to my guesthouse. We can discuss the business there — privately. It would be a better anniversary gift for you both."


He paused, eyes raking her slowly.


"Let Prem treat the guests here while we... sort things out."


The implication hung heavy — "discuss business" twisted into something intimate, the guesthouse a clear proposition.


Crowd tensed harder, whispers sharp.
"That's low..."
"Did he just suggest...?"


Nivi's face flushed with shock and fury.


Prem's blood boiled — he stepped forward, hand shooting out to grab Aaravind's collar.


Before he could connect, a sharp knock cracked on Aaravind's head from behind.
Rohan.


Aaravind spun, rubbing his skull. "Who the hell—?"


Rohan stood calm, voice deep and even. "Doesn't matter. You crossed limits here."


Aaravind eyed the file tucked under Rohan's arm, the rolled sleeves, the plain shirt — mistook him completely for a desperate Marketing person on a similar IT Outsourcing company men who'd been hounding him for signatures on another deal.


"You? The beggar following me everywhere with files? Stop trailing me for your damn contract! Begging like Prem here? Guts to lecture me now?"


Second slap — harder, echoing.
"Get out."
Aaravind stormed off, fuming, shouting over his shoulder as he pushed through the doors.


"It's done! I won't sign your damn contract! Set foot in my office again, I'll kick your ass!"


The hall fell silent a beat, then murmurs rose.


Rohan didn't linger — turned smoothly, file in hand, walked back toward the office like nothing happened.


Prem followed quickly, overthinking already spinning worst-case.
He assumed Rohan was some mid-level Tech guy who'd lost a big deal intervening in their mess.


"Sir, sorry — you got involved unnecessarily, probably lost your contract because of us."


Prem handed his visiting card hastily. "Don't worry. Let's work together — I owe you."


Rohan paused, puzzled inwardly — Who is this guy? Thinking I'm some desperate salesman?
Nivi followed too, gentle smile. "Hello, I'm Nivisha Prem. He's my husband. It's our anniversary — please join us for dinner at least. Thank you for standing up like that."


Rohan looked at her properly — third time today. This is first time he saw her this close..


Morning accident glimpse — panicked beauty running away.
Monitor feed — graceful in saree.
Now close — fair skin flushed slightly, eyes warm, voice soft.


Tempted, pulse quickening. He knows he could not resiste.. He himself surprised by how they mistook him for a cheap sort of… He smiled inside.. He is Powerful man — women threw themselves at him with a glance. But this lady and her husband…. Any he is not greedy. Not psycho chasing every beauty. He decided to leave them alone and move …
He is Married. Kids in Kerala. He has no idea of lusting for any strangers.
He just saud… "No, thanks."
He nodded politely, walked out.


His driver had parked outside — hall lot full for the party.

As he left, Prem and Nivi exchanged glances.

Good man.

Lost a deal helping us.
Guilt passed over them.
Not knowing his real identity.

[heygiwriter]

Reply back with your theories!

Prem's flashbacks from his memories and Aaravind's recall hint at one thing: 

Nivi is stronger, bolder, more determined, and even had big ideas than Prem ever realized. 

But her love for Prem has put her in a cage — a cage of love and family that made her forget who she really is.

This also proves Prem never really knows who his wife is. Nine years of marriage, and he doesn't know anything about her dreams, goals, or inner fire? 

Even the so-called surprise doesn't excite Nivi, and she said why... Will Nivi follow her dreams? Will they come true? 

If it was 9 years back, Nivi would have reacted fiercely to Aaravind's proposition, but now she just froze — does she secretly want to listen to him? 

Are her business ideas and dreams still alive inside, or is she expecting a power to break her out of this cage and give her more? Is she done with it all?


Who do you think will break her boundary — Aaravind? 
Prakash? 
Rakesh? 

Is Rohan a villain or a hero? He seems to align with Pratap's kind of person now...

what do you think? Reply back with your theories!

[heygiwriter]

Nice update

Thanks a lot

[heygiwriter]

After the way he behaved Aarvind has no chance I believe.  It has to be Prakash!

Good guess. But he will try right? Also we have added a layer that Nivi is already pissed like how she was reduced to just home taker when she is ambitious.

[heygiwriter]

Of all of them i would guess Prakash has the best chance of slipping into Prem's over protective shield and claiming nivi

Your take is prakash right?

Why not Aravind/Rakesh/Pratap or new person Rohan?

[heygiwriter]

Hi ,

I feel Rohan has better chance , as he admire her but is not blindly following her . Your heroine has  been shown as strong women but getting suffocated in marriage . Nice story plot .

Thanks

Thanks Deepak.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 12 – The Stranger's Gaze (Rohan's Perspective)




As Nivi and Prem looking at each other inside party hall after Rohan left… The same night outside party hall. Outside gate 20 ft away. Rohan. sat in the back of his Mercedes, the city lights of Chennai blurring past the tinted windows like streaks of neon fire. The driver was silent as always — professional, discreet, knowing better than to interrupt when the boss's mood darkened.

He was pissed.

Not the explosive kind that made him raise his voice or slam fists — Rohan didn't do explosive.

Quiet, simmering anger that built like pressure in a sealed vault.

His wife — beautiful, sharp-tongued, the daughter of that powerful Kerala politician — had chosen to stay back in their ancestral home with the kids and her sprawling family.

No fights. No screaming matches or ultimatums. Just a calm, unyielding preference. She loved her place, her roots, the influence and comfort of her father's world.

Her demand had always been simple: "Come back to Kerala. Build everything here. With us."

Rohan, born and raised in Chennai, his business empire deeply rooted in this city's soil — real estate developments, premium party halls, silent but substantial shares in tech firms — had never dared uproot it all.

Weekly visits became the compromise
.
Private flights down, forced smiles for the kids, polite dinners with in-laws, and duty in bed when she allowed it — mechanical, distant.

Off late, almost a year now, even that heat had gone cold.
She was demanding — more time, more presence, more surrender to her world.

He grew distant, resentful.

So he found the heat elsewhere. Women.

It started casual.
Models — stunning, high-maintenance, expecting fat envelopes for a single night of no-strings passion.
He paid gladly — bodies perfect, performances professional.
Then forbidden ones — the wife of a mid-level colleague who eyed his watch too long, or a sharp staffer from one of his companies who "accidentally" brushed against him in meetings.

Only those already tempted by the money, the power, the thrill of secrecy.
He never chased emotions. No attachment. No repeats unless convenient.

Sometimes a challenge — the tough ones who played hard to get, acted indifferent.
He loved breaking them slow — the chase, the surrender, the quiet power of making them crave what they pretended to resist.

But Nivi?

Three times in one day.
Morning — the scooty bump into his parked car. Her panicked beauty as she glanced back — fair skin flushed, saree fluttering, curves catching light before she sped away.

He'd forgotten it almost immediately — minor annoyance.
Then the party hall monitor — his own property. Graceful in silk saree, fair skin glowing under lights, moving with quiet confidence among guests.

Invitation close — soft voice, warm eyes thanking him, guilt in her smile.

Not ordinary.

Coincidence? Three encounters?

Coincidence?

Three encounters in hours?

In a city of millions?

He leaned back in the seat, city lights reflecting in his eyes.

Sharp businessman — coincidences were opportunities.

Or warnings.
But her face lingered.

Not just beauty.

Something else.

Quiet fire.

He pushed the thought down.

For now.


In just five minutes, everything crossed his mind as he watched the couple — fighting for their dignity, standing together in the face of humiliation, while his own wife demanded something he couldn't afford to give.

His mind reeled at the coincidence of encountering this woman three times in a single day. She was gorgeous, no doubt, and he thought Prem was lucky. But more than the couple themselves, he was irritated by Aaravind's behavior. 

No one could say it was none of his business — because what Aaravind was doing might impact his own business.


Because unknown to Aravind Rohan is the largest shareholder of his company..

Sharp businessman — information always at his fingertips, every detail cataloged, every connection mapped.


Largebase Solutions — 39% his shares, a silent investment he'd made years ago through layered trusts, content to let others run the day-to-day while dividends flowed.

He knew every face in his vast entities, every key player who mattered — from boardroom executives to the quiet influencers behind scenes.

He'd reviewed the annual reports, glanced at org charts, but never needed to interfere.
Until now.

Aaravind the CFO — photo on the company website, professional headshot with that same smug half-smile.
Face he recognized instantly.

The man he'd slapped at his own party hall just hours ago.

Threatening a couple — that young husband and his beautiful wife — over some personal vendetta, old college grudge by the looks of it.

Abusing company power, funds, reputation for revenge.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 12 – Continued....

Rohan was cautious about image — his empire built on discretion, clean lines, no scandals.


Private matter? Fine. Handle your obsessions quietly — sleep with who you want, chase ghosts from the past.
But dragging the company's name into it? Threatening lawsuits on letterhead, misusing demo funds for leverage?
No.
Unacceptable.

He had never stepped foot in Largebase headquarters — seven years since incorporation, perfectly content with silent profits, quarterly reports, and the occasional dividend wire.

No need to show his face.
Until tonight.
Now?
Time to.

Aaravind had crossed the line — turned personal poison into corporate liability.
Rohan would handle it.
Personally.

And that woman — Nivi.
Her face lingered in his mind, uninvited, sharper than the others.
Morning accident — flustered beauty.
Hall monitor — composed grace.
Close invitation — warm eyes, soft guilt.
Three times.
Not coincidence.
Destiny? Wild thought for a man like him — pragmatic, calculated.
He pushed it down.
Focused on business.
But decided.
Action.

Aaravind's team arrived the next morning to Prem place with a legal notice,  "Sign the deal immediately or pay 10 crore penalty for breach of agreement." They hand overed the documents and went asking to come back to office soon. 

Nivi read it first, scanning the paper at the breakfast table, eyes fierce — a flash of fire Prem had never seen before, like steel under silk.

"I'll come with you," she said, voice steady, no hesitation.

Prem blinked, surprised but nodding.

They decided: Meet a lawyer first.

Get advice.

Before facing Aaravind.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 13 – The Unexpected Ally



Prem got call after call.. All the sub contracts he was about to sign were put on hold by the companies..


Prem looking at the Idlis in plate he could not focus on anything… 
"Sign the deal immediately or pay a 10 crore penalty for breach of agreement."
The voices still echo.. 


Not even one day since surprise he gave for Nivi.. he was pressurized to surrender to Aravind.
He has to take up the deal from Largebase solutions.. Prem now thinks he should have signed the agreement that day.. 
Now aravind is openly threatening.. Making him surrender he hates it. Prem invested lakhs of amount into it.


He decided to meet Aravind private and discuss that no one has to loose if it ends with apology he is ready to do.. But if he has any sinister plan he is ready to quit and rejoin pratap..


After breakfast Prem said he will be going to meet Aravind tomorrow and discuss. Nivi fetched the paper from him..
Nivi read it first, scanning the paper at the breakfast table, her eyes fierce — a flash of fire Prem had never seen before, like steel under silk.
"I'll come with you," she said, voice steady, no hesitation.


Prem blinked, surprised but nodding. "Okay. But first, lawyer."
They decided: Get advice.
Before facing Aaravind.


Back at Largebase Solutions headquarters the next day.


The people in the company running here and there words are that their biggest shareholder let the VP know he is coming here for unknown reason. 


Aaravind was in an important VP meeting, barking orders, face still bruised from Rohan's slaps.
The company and staff had no idea who their biggest share holder (Rohan) really was — silent shareholder, never visited.
So when Rohan arrived — simple shirt, no suit, file in hand — reception made him wait in the lobby like any visitor.



Prem and Nivi arrived the same moment, spotted him sitting there.
Prem approached, concerned. "You again? Is Aaravind making things hard for you because of last night?"
Rohan didn't open his mouth at first, expression neutral. "Just look after your business. Don't interfere in my way."
Prem, full of himself, laughed it off. "Man, you're too cocky. What prestige do you have? We felt indebted — you stood for us, faced heat. See, I know you're a tech guy like me. Open offer: Join me. I'll take you places."


Rohan stood slowly, placed a hand on Prem's shoulder — firm, brotherly — looked at Nivi a beat longer, then guided Prem aside.
"Buddy, come this side."
Voice low. "How long you in this business?"
Prem puffed. "Ten years."
Rohan nodded. "I do multiple. Been here fifteen years — started at twenty. Now thirty-five. I still take care of things."
He patted Prem's shoulder, polite but dismissive, moved to another seat.


Prem felt insulted, muttered to Nivi. "Too cocky."


Nivi pulled him. "Maybe better we keep quiet. He feels irritated because of us — deal off."


Aaravind emerged then, saw the three, smirked.
"Important VP meeting. Heard our big shareholder arriving today — hates commotion, especially from people like you." Pointed at Rohan.
"Come back tomorrow."
Rohan smiled sheepishly. "Okay, sir. I'll meet you tomorrow."



Next day, the three met again in lobby..
Aaravind waved them in impatiently. "Shareholder didn't arrive yesterday.. Dont know why he keeps delaying… people say he is arriving anytime. 
Aravind was impatient to knock a deal with Prem openly taking Nivi.. 
But a second look at Rohan.. He decided to play the 3 of them.. 


He said looking Rohan with a mocking smile.. Sheepishly 
No separate times — all three, come."


In the conference room.
Aaravind leaned back. "Mr...?"
Rohan calm. "My name is Rohan."
Aaravind snorted. "Listen, Rohan — I can't sign after you humiliated me. But chance for you."
The chance depends on the couple's outcome…
Turned to Prem. "Dear Prem — ex-enemy, present enemy, cum friend — I'll take back legal notice. Leave you alone."


Pause, eyes on Nivi.'

"One condition: Nivi takes over the business. She signs, works with me."

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 13  --- Continued


Prem exploded. Stop it its Unreasonable! Grudge on me — bring it on me. Why her?"


Aaravind mocked innocence. "Don't you know? I love seeing her as entrepreneur. Nothing else. 
Whatever dirty crosses your mind is yours, not mine."


Prem: I know you are the reason why all my other clients are putting my projects on Hold.


Aravind said: You should have predicted the day when you quarelled with me in the party hall.. Deal or no Deal
Prem: we wont sell our dignity…


Grinned at Rohan. "Hey, Rohan - You got a chance now….outcome from couple is no deal… if you convince Nivisha madam, I can sign your deal too. What say?"


Rohan stepped forward and punched Aaravind clean on the nose — a sharp crack, blood spurting instantly.
"Add a legal notice for this too," Rohan said calmly. "I'll face it."


Aaravind shouted, clutching his nose. "Who do you think you are? Securities!"
Rohan shushed him, finger to his lips. "Don't make the staff hear the CFO got beaten. Bad for company image."


He turned back to Prem.
Prem and Nivi stood stunned, minds racing. How in the world does a mid-level tech guy have the guts to punch one of the most powerful men in the company? Is he mad?


Rohan spoke evenly. "I heard this gentleman blocked all your projects with other companies, right?"
Nivi nodded. "Yes... sir."
Rohan: "I can fix it."
Prem scoffed. "You can have fifteen years' experience, but don't bluff here."


Rohan handed over his visiting card — simple, elegant, reading only "Rohan" and a contact number. No title, no company, no other details.


Rohan continued, voice steady. "You don't need to trust me. I'm not helping you. I'm just teaching him" — he nodded at Aaravind — "that being powerful comes with responsibility too. If I get your contracts back, his arrogance will be buried."
He paused. "Before tonight, every client will call and resume your projects. Just WhatsApp me all your client details."


Then, to Prem: "Call me tomorrow — you'll have all your contracts back."


Rohan turned to Aaravind. "We will meet soon," he said coolly, and walked away.
Moments later, Nivi and Prem decided to leave the place.


Before exiting, Nivi turned to Aaravind, voice firm and clear.

"Back then, I trusted you as a friend. You harmed me. Now you're doing it again. You know how strong and determined I am. We will rise together. It's just one business you blocked — we'll start something new. I wanted to think of it as a misunderstanding, but for the second time, you've proved you haven't changed."

"Let's go, Prem."


Nivi walked out with him, head high.


Prem had never heard Nivi speak this boldly — no surrender, no fear.


Hours passed…. Both watching TV while Aaara playing with her toys, Nivi stared at the card.
The font of "Rohan" — elegant, distinctive. She'd seen it somewhere... that Mercedes Benz from the accident?
She was intrigued, but dismissed it. No relation.


She asked Prem, "Did you send the client details?"
Prem shook his head. "No."
Prem: "He's some madman, just proving he's tough. Showing off. Ignore him."


Nivi took out her mobile, saved the number, and asked Prem for the client details.
Prem hesitated, then sighed. "Okay, I'll give. But Rohan won't convince anyone. Don't get disappointed."
Nivi: "Don't say that without trying."
She got the list and sent it.


That night, she couldn't sleep.
The harasser from her past was back.
She recalled how overjoyed she'd felt seeing Aaravind at the party hall — thinking he still looked out for her, like old times. She thought it was the age factor which would have made Aravind to do recklessly back then now with responsibilities married he would have been changed.. But he failed her..
Ever since marriage, her world had felt small. Just three people: Aara, Prem, and fatherly Pratap.
She'd hoped Aaravind could join as a good friend.
But he failed her. Completely.
She lost all confidence in how her life would be from now on — without a single true soul around her apart from Aara.


Her mobile blinked at 10:30 PM.

Message: Got your clients list! Thanks. With regards, Rohan.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 14 – Lunch Invitation


The morning after the message from Rohan, Prem’s phone started ringing before he even finished his coffee.
One client. Then another. Then three more.

Apologies. “Misunderstanding.” Projects unblocked. Full speed ahead.

Prem stared at the screen, idlis cooling untouched on his plate.

He turned to Nivi, voice disbelieving. “They’re all back. Every single one. The company… it’s back on its legs.”

Nivi looked up from helping Aara with breakfast, eyes sharp. “Rohan?”

Prem shook his head. “I still don’t believe it’s him.”

Before Nivi could reply, Prem was already dialing Aaravind.

The call connected.

“Thanks, man,” Prem started, words tumbling out. 

“Sorry, I don’t know how you unblocked everything. If there was any misunderstanding… I’ve got nothing to do with that Rohan guy—”

Nivi’s face darkened. She hissed under her breath, low enough only Prem heard: “Don’t you have even a little self-respect?”

Aaravind’s laugh crackled through the speaker, cold and mocking.

“Stop, stop, stoop,” he sneered. 

“Unblocked? Bullshit. 

No one has the guts to offend our group.” A pause, voice turning oily.
“Let me tell you the real deal—give me Nivi, take the contracts back.”


Nivi’s hand shot out. She plucked the phone from Prem’s grip.

“Fuck you, Aaravind,” she said, clear and cutting, then cut the call.

The room went silent.

Prem stared at her, stunned. He had never heard her swear. Never seen that steel in her eyes.

Moments later, voice quieter, Prem muttered, “Was it really Rohan?”

Nivi set the phone down. “Who else do you think?” 

She met his gaze. “Don’t judge everyone by appearance… or gender. 
You never know someone’s potential.”

The words hung. Prem felt them land—not just about Rohan.

He looked away, pride stung, but something shifted inside him. Quiet. Unspoken.

He pulled out Rohan’s simple visiting card and dialed.

“Hello, Rohan. Prem here.”
Rohan’s voice, calm on the other end. “Yes?”

“Who are you, really?”

A soft smile in Rohan’s tone, though Prem couldn’t see it. “I’m a businessman. I bring business, people return favors. That network helped.”

Prem swallowed. “Thank you. And… sorry for judging you.”

Rohan’s reply was indifferent. “I don’t care, Mr. Prem. Do your work now. No more legal troubles. Show progress with other clients—Largebase might reconsider when they see you succeeding.”

Click. Call ended.

Rohan set the phone down in his penthouse office overlooking the Bay of Bengal.

He had already handled Aaravind—the CFO would stay clueless how a “mid-level tech guy” had pulled it off. Perfect punishment: confusion, humiliation, powerlessness.

Rohan had no real interest in Prem or Nivi beyond teaching Aaravind a lesson.

He planned to hand the rest to his VP, step back.

Until the phone rang again twenty minutes later.

Prem.
“My wife… she wants to thank you properly. Lunch at our place?”
Rohan’s first instinct: No.

He didn’t need gratitude. Or complications.

But curiosity tugged—their story, Aaravind’s obsession, the woman who had sent the list herself.

And something else. A pull he couldn’t name yet.

“Outside,” Rohan said. “Somewhere open. Garden restaurant on ECR stretch. Tomorrow, 1 PM.”


They agreed.

[heygiwriter]

Good going!!! Keep the flow going!!!

Thanks a lot

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 15 –  Nivi and Rohan’s Chase begun!


The seaside garden restaurant on ECR was quiet for a weekday afternoon—waves crashing in the distance, frangipani petals scattered on the wooden tables, the salt breeze carrying the scent of the sea.


Prem and Nivi arrived a few minutes late, Prem apologising as they sat. Aara was with a neighbour for the day—Prem had insisted it be just the three of them.

Introductions were brief. Rohan shook Prem’s hand firmly, then Nivi’s—his grip warm, lingering half a second longer than necessary, though his face stayed neutral.

Prem couldn’t hold it in. “Who are you, really?” How did you offend largebase solutions and got back my contract..
Rohan leaned back, ordered a fresh lime soda, dragged the moment.

“An investor, basically.” A small smile. “I don’t always bring money. I bring connections. Assets. People. I make others invest in startups—or any business that interests me. They pay me one-time, or they give shares. Either way, my business runs.”

The foods arrived and they spoke as they proceed with dinner.

Prem nodded, impressed but still curious. “Then why follow Aaravind so relentlessly for a deal?”

Rohan’s eyes flicked with amusement. “Aaravind never gave me a chance to speak who I was. From the first word, he decided I was a mid-level tech guy.” He looked at Prem pointedly. “Like you did.”

Prem flushed. “Sorry. Really.”

Rohan waved it off. “It’s okay. But in business, let the other guy speak too.”

Nivi had been watching carefully, listening to every word. Rohan felt her gaze—steady, thoughtful. He met it once or twice, held it, then looked away.

Prem, eager to move on, leaned forward. “I have big dreams. The clients you unblocked—they’re small. Companies like Largebase are the real targets.”

Rohan sipped his drink. “If you have a proper, scalable model, you can crack anything.”

Prem’s eyes lit up. “If you’re interested, I can explain. My model is the real deal.”

Rohan gestured. “I’m all ears.” If it impresses i will get you clients..

Prem launched in—technical details, cost structures, delivery pipelines, margins. He spoke with passion, hands moving, convinced he was selling the future.

Rohan listened, asked sharp questions—edge cases, scalability bottlenecks, competition. Prem answered well, but stumbled on one: “And how do you convince a sceptical client this is better than the ten other firms pitching the same thing?”

Silence.

Nivi spoke for the first time, voice calm, clear.

“You don’t sell the model. You sell the outcome. The client isn’t buying code—they’re buying certainty. That their product launches on time, that bugs won’t bleed money, that their investors will see growth, not excuses. You tell the story of how we saved a startup from collapse, how we became their unseen backbone. You make them feel they’re choosing safety and ambition, not just a vendor.”


Prem turned to her, surprised.


Rohan’s expression didn’t change, but inside something shifted.
Impressed didn’t cover it.


Prem thought … She had barely heard the details last night—snatches of conversation at home—yet she had distilled it into something a boardroom would buy in minutes.


Rohan breaks the silence..

He looked at Prem. “You handle operations and delivery. Let Nivi handle pitches—or let her teach you behind closed doors.”

Prem laughed, a little forced. “I developed the model. Won’t I be able to sell it?”

Rohan didn’t smile. “That’s the point. You can build it. Doesn’t mean you can sell it.”


Prem’s laugh faded. He looked at Nivi again, really looked—as if seeing something new.


Prem continued. “Will you be interested in joining me? Get me clients.” Prem said . “I can pay upfront for clients.”

Rohan considered. “Good. I’ll bring some—if the math works.”
Prem offered 5% equity.
Rohan countered 10%.
They settled at 8%.
Nivi spoke quietly. “6%. Fair for connections and risk.”
Both men turned to her.

Rohan’s eyes held hers again—longer this time.
She didn’t look away.
He smiled, small. “6%.”


Rohan stood. “Next week, prepare. I’m bringing better clients. It’s up to you to make it work. Don’t spoil the brief like you did today.” He looked at Prem, then Nivi. “Either Nivi handles it… or she teaches you behind walls. I need results. Don’t waste my clients.”


For the first time.. Nivi felt like someone was seeing her worth.. Someone acknowledging her talent.. In most professional way she can get .. Rohan is not trying to impress he is just stating the fact both prem and nivi can sense it..

As lunch was done… Rohan stood up


He nodded goodbye and walked toward the parking.
They followed moments later.
Then the sky broke.

Sudden, heavy Chennai rain—pouring like a curtain.

The open garden offered little cover. Guests scattered, running for sheds and awnings.

Prem grabbed Nivi’s hand. “I’ll bring the car to that side—wait under the shed!”

Nivi ran toward the nearest shelter, saree already soaking.

The light blue cotton turned translucent in seconds—clinging to every curve. Her sky-blue blouse and contrast bra dark against wet fabric, clearly visible. Hair plastered to her neck, water streaming down fair skin.

Men nearby turned. Eyes lingered.

Rohan, already under the main awning, saw it all.

Something snapped inside him.
Not just beauty.
Power.

A woman who commanded a table without trying, who had been hidden, caged—and now, drenched, unshielded, radiant.

His body reacted before his mind—hard, sudden, undeniable. Right there in public.

He didn’t care.

He walked out into the rain, suit jacket in hand, straight to her.

Nivi looked up, surprised, water dripping from her lashes.

“No, thank you—” she started.

He didn’t ask. Politely, firmly, dbangd the heavy overcoat over her shoulders, covering her completely.

“I’ll collect it later,” he said, voice low, eyes intense.

Prem’s car pulled up. Rohan opened the door for her, took back his wet coat as she slid in.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

The car pulled away.

Rohan stood in the rain a moment longer.
His Mercedes arrived.
He got in, closed the door.

The image burned behind his eyes—wet saree clinging, curves outlined, that quiet fire now mixed with raw, natural sensuality.

For the first time in years, he wanted more than a night.
He wanted to possess her.
Body. Mind. Fire.
All of it.

As Prem drove home, Nivi wiped her face with tissue, opened the dashboard mirror to check her bindi.

She saw it then—how visible her bra had been against the wet saree.
She realised why Rohan had come out in the rain.
Not to stare.
To cover her.

In a world where men like Aaravind, Prakash (she has a doubt), Rakesh had only ever tried to take—
Rohan had protected her dignity without being asked.
For a moment, she felt… good.
Seen.
Safe.
And something else she couldn’t name yet.

Unknown to her, in the Mercedes trailing a few cars behind on ECR—
Rohan was already planning the next move.
The chase had truly begun. Nivi decided to explore this opportunity and chase her dream.. While Rohan’s chase is Nivi?

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 16 – The Dream and the Plan (Rohan’s POV)


Rohan drove back from ECR in silence, the wipers slashing through the lingering rain.

His suit jacket still carried the faint scent of her — jasmine hair oil mixed with wet cotton and warm skin.

He couldn’t shake it.

In the penthouse, he poured a whiskey, stood at the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the dark sea.

His mind replayed the afternoon in loops.

The way she spoke at the table — calm, sharp, commanding without raising her voice.

The way the breeze pressed her pallu against her body.

The way the rain turned that light saree into a second skin — full breasts straining, dark bra visible, nipples hard from the cold, hips swaying as she ran.
His cock stirred again, just remembering.

He had fucked models who posed for hours to look half as good.

Taken married women who whispered his name like a prayer while their husbands slept in the next room.

But none of them burned into him like this.

Nivi wasn’t offering herself.
She wasn’t even aware.
That was the fire.

A devoted wife. A hidden mind. A body softened by motherhood, yet still lush, untouched in the way he wanted to touch it.

He wanted to ruin that devotion.
Slowly.
Completely.

He needed leverage. Hooks. A way in.

He hadn’t heard their full story — only fragments. Aaravind knew her from college. Knew her weaknesses, her past. Rohan needed that knowledge.

He would get it.


Business would be the door to be near her — the 6% stake, the clients, the “training Nivi, - the Excuse Perfect cover.

Identity hidden. For now.


He finished the whiskey, went to bed.




Bright morning.. 

He was in a large hotel suite — one of his own properties, though he didn’t recognise it in the dream.
Soft lighting. Red curtains.

Nivi stood in the middle of the room.
No saree.

A red kurta — thin, no dupatta. Clinging to her curves like it was painted on. Full breasts pressing against the fabric, waist narrow, hips flaring. Fair skin glowing warm.
She looked at him, eyes dark, lips parted.

“Rohan,” she said, voice low. “Why are you pretending? Don’t you want to stare at me?”

He crossed the room in three strides.


Wrapped his arms around her from behind, hands sliding up to cup her breasts — heavy, soft, perfect weight in his palms.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he growled against her ear.

“Yes, baby,” she whispered, arching back into him. “Fuck me. I’m yours.”

He pressed harder, thumbs circling her nipples through the fabric, feeling them harden instantly.

“Why do you always wear sarees?” he muttered, teeth grazing her neck. “In a kurta like this… you look so fucking sexy. I want to tear it off and fuck you senseless.”

“Then do it,” she breathed. “Fuck me, Rohan. I’m yours.”

He spun her, pushed her back onto the bed.
She fell, legs parting, kurta riding up.
He climbed over her, cock throbbing, ready to—
A sudden jerk.
He hit the floor.
Hard.

Eyes snapped open.
Midnight. 2 AM.

Penthouse bedroom. Alone.
Cock aching against his boxers, heart pounding.
Just a dream.

The most vivid one he’d had in years.
He lay there, breathing hard.
No pretending games.

Tomorrow, he would start.
First — Aaravind. Get the history. The hooks.
Then — business meetings. Private ones.
He would hide who he really was.
Get close.

And when the time was right —
He would fuck her.
Madly.
Brutally.
Until she forgot every other man’s name.
Until that quiet fire screamed only for him.

He closed his eyes again, hand sliding down, stroking himself slow to the memory of her wet saree, her voice at lunch, the dream version begging.

Tomorrow, the plan began.

[heygiwriter]

The Dream sequence Generated by AI

Nivi and Rohan

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 17 – The Price of Information (Rohan’s POV)


The next morning, Rohan walked into Largebase Solutions headquarters like he owned the place.
He did — thirty-nine percent of it.
No appointment. No announcement.
Straight to the chairman’s office on the top floor.

The chairman — an older man who had long ago handed day-to-day control to the board — looked up, surprised but not startled. He knew who paid the real bills.
“Rohan. Been a while.”

“Summon Aaravind.”

The chairman pressed the intercom. Minutes later, Aaravind strode in — confident, bruised ego still fresh from the punch.
He froze when he saw Rohan lounging in the guest chair.

The chairman cleared his throat. “Aaravind, meet our largest shareholder. Rohan.”
Aaravind’s face drained of color.
Rohan smiled, cold. “Sit.”
Aaravind sat.

The chairman excused himself quietly. Door clicked shut.

Aaravind found his voice. “Why the drama, sir? You could have—”

Rohan cut him. “You didn’t want to hear who I was. Twice. You got your lesson. Now I’m revealing because I want something.”

Aaravind’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Rohan leaned forward. “You became CFO this year. No full board meeting yet. You never saw my name on the cap table.” He paused. “Let’s cut the crap. What’s the issue with Prem and Nivisha? Why should I not push charges against you for abusing company resources on a personal vendetta — and strip your title using my influence with the board?”
Aaravind’s jaw tightened. “It’s personal.”


Rohan smirked. “From now on, it’s my personal.”

Aaravind’s eyes sharpened, calculating. “Ooh… so you’re eyeing Nivisha?”

Rohan didn’t blink. “Why not? She’s good. Sharp. Useful.”

Aaravind leaned back, a twisted grin forming. “Every man who sees her eyes her. Maybe I can help. We could… share? A threesome when she breaks?”

Rohan’s voice dropped, dangerous. “You still don’t realise the threat here. I can make you disappear from this building tomorrow. Or I can make you CEO. If you cooperate.”

Aaravind’s grin faded. Interest flickered. “CEO?”

Rohan nodded. “My shares speak loudest. I influence the board. You do exactly what I say — you get the title. Maybe even chairman one day, if you’re useful.”

Aaravind weighed it. Swallowed pride.

“What do you want?”

“Every detail about her. Past. Present. Weaknesses.”

Aaravind smirked, recovering. “Sure. But I want a taste when you’re done.”

Rohan stood, towering. “I don’t share my women.”

He turned to the door.

Aaravind called quickly. “Wait. Fine. CEO title. Nothing else.”

Rohan turned back. “Sit.”

They sat.

Aaravind talked.

College. The rumors he started. The indoor room assault — his failed attempt, Prem’s rescue.

Nivi’s fire — how she deflected him, rose above gossip, dreamed big.

The elopement. The enmity. Prem’s insecurities, overprotectiveness, blind trust once earned.
Then Prakash — the near-bang attempt years ago. “I heard it from Pratap once, when he was drunk. Said Prem trusts too blindly once he lets someone in.”

Rohan’s interest peaked. “How do you know Pratap?”

“Prem came to Largebase through Pratap’s old trading connections. Pratap handles some of our subsidiary stock portfolios. Casual boast when drunk — how Prem turns blind once trust is given.”

Rohan absorbed it all.
The key.
Blind trust.

He had it already — Prem saw him as savior.

Now, the path to Nivi was clear.

As Aaravind finished, Rohan said, “Take back the legal notice? No. Keep the pressure on them. Disturb them more. I’ll tell you exactly what to do and when.”

Aaravind’s eyes glinted with ambition. “And the CEO title?”

Rohan stood. “Do everything I ask — perfectly — and it’s yours. Who knows… play long enough, you might even sit in the chairman’s chair.”

He walked out.

In the elevator down, Rohan’s mind raced.

He had the map now.

Prem’s weakness: overthinking, but blind loyalty once earned.

Nivi’s strength: buried ambition, quiet fire.

The plan crystallized.

Bring the big clients next week, as promised.

Work alongside her.
“Train” her.
Earn deeper trust.
And when the moment was right —
Take her.
Completely.

The dream from last night flashed — red kurta, her begging.
Soon, it wouldn’t be a dream.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 18 – The Missed Chance | Nivi and Rohan underestimated Prem 



The following week arrived faster than Prem expected.

His small office — now with a handful of new staff, rented desks, the hum of ambition — felt alive.
Rohan called the evening before.

“Tomorrow, 11 AM. I’m bringing the first real client. Be ready.”


Prem grinned into the phone. “We’re ready. Thank you, Rohan. This is big.”


Rohan’s voice was neutral. “Good. See you then.”
The next morning, Rohan’s Mercedes pulled up outside the modest IT park building.


He stepped out in a crisp linen shirt, sleeves rolled, no tie — understated power.


Beside him walked Mr. Ruban— owner of a mid-sized logistics firm with deep pockets and constant outsourcing needs. Rohan had chosen him deliberately: small enough to test Prem’s team, big enough to matter.


Rohan scanned the entrance as they walked in.


Prem greeted them warmly, handshakes, smiles, quick tour of the office.
Staff bustling. Whiteboards filled with flowcharts.
But no Nivi.


Rohan’s jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly.
“Where’s your wife?” he asked casually as Prem led them to the conference room.


Prem laughed, waving it off. “Nivi? She’s just a homemaker. Why bring her in? This is men’s work, right? Operations, tech, deals — she handles home and Aara. Perfect balance.”


Rohan stopped walking.
The air shifted.
Mr. Ruban glanced between them, sensing tension.
Rohan’s voice was quiet, but it cut like glass.
“I see.”


He turned to Ruban. “I’m sorry. Something urgent came up. We’ll reschedule.”


Ruban, experienced enough to read the room, nodded immediately. “Of course. Call me when convenient.”


Handshakes. Apologies.
Within minutes, Rohan was back in his car.


Engine roared as he pulled away.
Disappointment burned cold in his chest.
Not anger at Nivi.
At Prem.


The cage was tighter than he thought.
The man didn’t just protect — he buried.


Back home that evening, Prem burst through the door, excited.
“Big news! Rohan brought a client today — logistics guy, serious money. Meeting got postponed, but it’s happening tomorrow. This could be huge.”
Nivi looked up from the kitchen, stirring sambar.
She hadn’t known Rohan was coming.
Hadn’t been told anything.


Her path — the one that had briefly opened at the lunch table, the one where someone saw her mind, her worth — blurred again.
Closed by Prem. Without a word.
For the first time in years, something dark stirred in her.
She didn’t smile. Didn’t congratulate. 
Quietly, in her heart, she prayed:
Let his meeting fail tomorrow.
Let this meeting go wrong.
Just once.


Let him feel what it’s like when dreams are taken away.
That night, in his penthouse, Rohan sat with a whiskey, staring at his phone.


Prem’s words echoed.
“Just a homemaker.”
He had been so close.
One meeting. One chance to pull her in properly.
Now blocked by the same man who claimed to love her.


His hands trembled slightly as he opened a new message to Nivi.
Typed:
Need to discuss tomorrow’s pitch urgently. Can we talk?
Then deleted it.
Too forward.
Too risky.
He set the phone down.


Across the city, in their bedroom, Prem already asleep, Nivi lay awake.
The lunch. The rain. The overcoat.
The way Rohan had looked at her when she spoke.
No one — not even Prem in their best days — had looked at her like that.
Like she was capable.
Powerful.
Seen.
Her fingers hovered over her phone.


She opened messages.
Found Rohan’s name.
Typed:
Thank you again for the other day. The clients… everything.
Then paused.
Deleted.


Typed again:
Prem said the meeting was postponed. Is everything okay?


Her thumb hovered over send.
Then stopped.


She set the phone face-down.
Both of them — miles apart — stared at dark ceilings.
Wanting to reach. Afraid to.
The same thought in both minds:


Just once.
Just one message.
But neither sent it.
They slept. Uneasy. Hungry.
The chase paused.


But only for a night.