[heygiwriter]

Chapter 18: Swathi realize the scheme! While vikram bleeds to save her love


Swathi paced the length of her bedroom, the heavy silk curtains drawn tight against the afternoon sun, turning the room into a gilded cage. House arrest—unofficial, but real. Guards at the doors, phones monitored, her father-in-law's men watching every move. The politician, Raghunath, had cornered her in the study earlier, his voice a blade wrapped in velvet.

"Admit it," he'd said, leaning close enough for her to smell the betel nut on his breath. "The affair with Krish. Sign the papers. We'll handle the divorce quietly—your fault, our terms. Or we pin it all on that cheap driver. Say you slept with him in the hills. He's already cracking in custody. One more push, and he'll confess everything. Your word against a nobody's. The family wins either way."


She'd stared at him, heart pounding, but kept her face blank. "You're bluffing."

Father in law had smiled—cold, knowing. "Try me. He's spilling about your lover already. Krish's name will be out by evening."

Now, alone, Swathi clutched her phone, hidden under the folds of her salwar. She typed fast, fingers flying.


Swathi: They're locking me in. Threatening to frame Vikram as my lover if I don't confess about you. He's in custody—beating him to break me. Come now. Get me out.

Krish's reply buzzed almost immediately.

Krish: On my way. Back gate. 10 minutes. Be ready.

She deleted the messages, slipped the phone into her bra, and waited, pulse racing. The bungalow felt like a tomb—silent servants, locked doors, the weight of the family's power pressing down.

---

Across the city, in the dim hell of the station's back room, Vikram spat blood onto the concrete. The beatings had ramped up since morning—fists, boots, the occasional lathi crack for emphasis. His ribs screamed with every breath; one eye was a swollen slit.


The inspector circled him like a vulture, wiping sweat from his brow. "Sign it, bastard. Say you fucked Swathi madam in the car. Or spill about her real lover—the gangster. Krish, right? We know. One name, and this ends."


Vikram, chained to the chair, lifted his head slowly. Pain blurred everything, but his mind was clear—sharper than it had been in years. Flashbacks hit: Malar's lies, Malavika's games, Swathi's bold eyes on the hill bed. Women who used, men who broke.
But not him. Not anymore.


He thought of Swathi—her laugh, her threats, her quiet apology in the car. Her one genuine thing: Krish. 

The affair that burned because her life didn't. If he spilled, it crumbled. If he signed the lie about himself, she'd be free... but tainted by association with a "cheap driver."


No. Let them beat him. Let it buy her time. Let his silence keep her love intact.
He laughed—low, ragged, blood bubbling at his lips.


The inspector paused. "What's funny?"
Vikram met his eyes. "You. Thinking pain changes anything."


The next punch came hard, splitting his lip fresh. But Vikram didn't speak. For once, he thought, I choose the silence.

---

The back gate of the bungalow was a service entrance—rusted iron, hidden by overgrown bougainvillea. Krish arrived like a shadow: black SUV idling in the alley, four men spilling out with him. They moved fast—wire cutters on the chain, silenced footsteps over the gravel.


Inside, Swathi heard the faint clink. She slipped from her room, down the servant stairs, heart in her throat. A guard turned the corner—Krish's man was on him in seconds, chokehold silent and swift. The body slumped.


Krish appeared at the base of the stairs, face hard, eyes scanning. "Now."

She ran to him, no words. He pulled her through the gate, into the SUV. Doors slammed. The vehicle peeled away, leaving the bungalow's lights shrinking in the rearview.


In the backseat, Swathi exhaled, trembling. "They have Vikram. Beating him to make him lie—say we slept together. Or name you."


Krish gripped the wheel tighter. "He won't break. Not if he's smart."
"But they think he is. I can't let him take this."


Krish glanced at her. "We go underground. Safe house. Stall for the video. Three days."


Swathi nodded, but her mind raced ahead. As the city blurred past, she pulled out her phone again—another hidden sim.
She dialed a number she rarely used.


"Dad? It's me. I need your help. Now."

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 19: The Name That Stops the Lathi - Bharath [Bharath's Cameo]


The line connected to a quiet study in a modest flat on the city's outskirts. Swathi's father—Ramanathan, retired Additional Director General of security officer, a man whose name still opened doors in every station—listened without interrupting.


When she finished—the threats, the house arrest, Vikram's custody, Krish's rescue—his voice was steady, laced with old authority.

"You're safe?"
"Yes. With... a friend."

A pause. "Krish."

She didn't deny it.

Ramanathan sighed. "Your father-in-law's playing dirty. But influence cuts both ways. I'll make calls. Get the boy out. No charges. But Swathi—end this soon. Before it swallows you all."

"Thank you, Appa."

"Be careful. And tell that driver... he owes me nothing. But you do."

The call ended. Swathi stared at the phone, relief mixing with guilt. Vikram's silence had bought her this. Now her father's pull would free him.
Krish caught her eye in the mirror. "Your old man?"

She nodded. "He's stepping in."

"Good. But next time, we don't run. We fight."
The SUV vanished into the night traffic, leaving the bungalow's shadows behind.

But in the station, the beatings paused—for now. A phone rang in the inspector's pocket. A voice from higher up. Influence stirring.


The game twisted again.


The inspector’s phone rang again—sharp, insistent, cutting through the wet slap of fists on flesh. He stepped away from Vikram’s slumped form, wiping sweat and a smear of blood from his knuckles onto his khaki shirt. The room stank of copper, sweat, and fear that had nowhere to go.

He answered on the third ring, voice dropping low.
“Yes, sir?”
A pause. Then his face changed—eyes widening, mouth tightening into a thin line.
“Bharath? On his way now?”
The name landed like a stone in still water. The two constables froze mid-motion, one with lathi raised, the other holding Vikram’s arm twisted behind the chair. Even the bulb seemed to dim for a second.
Bharath.
Twenty-seven years old, same age as the broken man on the floor, but already a legend in the wrong circles. Ramanathan’s star pupil back in the academy—top of every class, fastest draw, coldest stare. Then something shifted. Personal grudges became professional vendettas. Accused didn’t just confess under Bharath; they shattered. Stories circulated in hushed canteen whispers: a man who once beat a suspect until the ribs caved just because the guy had looked at his sister wrong years ago. Department brass turned a blind eye—results were results. But the name alone could empty a room.

The inspector swallowed. “Understood, sir. We’ll wait.”
He hung up, stared at Vikram for a long beat, then barked at the constables.
“Stop. Clean him up a little. Bharath is coming.”

They moved fast—unlocked the cuffs, dragged Vikram to a plastic chair, splashed water from a bucket on his face. Blood diluted to pink rivulets ran down his neck. He coughed once, weakly, but his eyes stayed open, fixed on nothing.
Minutes crawled. Then the door opened.

Bharath stepped in alone—no entourage, no uniform, just dark jeans, black T-shirt stretched over a fighter’s build, and eyes that didn’t blink enough. He looked younger than the stories made him sound, almost boyish—until you met the gaze.



He didn’t speak at first. Just walked to Vikram, crouched, pressed two fingers to the side of his neck.
“Pulse is there,” Bharath said, almost to himself. “Better. Still holding.”
The inspector shifted. “Sir, he’s—”

Fir written

Inspector: No sir but..

Bharath : what ? no fir and you guys beaten him like this...?

Bharath stood without looking at him. “Department has ruthless cases piling up. Real ones. We don’t need this burden. Politicians say a lot of holy words. Doesn’t make them gospel.”

He turned to the inspector, voice flat.

“Throw him somewhere. dont let him struggle here. and i myself has to write memo on you guys.... 

The constables got ready to dismiss and take away virkram from there.. 

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 20: Arrival of the Angel – Mirnaa



The constables didn’t waste time. They hauled Vikram up—arms over shoulders like a drunk friend—and half-carried, half-dragged him through the back corridors,


They dumped him in the back, doors slammed. The van lurched forward, tires crunching gravel.

Vikram lay on the metal floor, every pothole jolting fresh pain through his ribs. He tasted blood, felt the slow seep of it from his split lip. But his mind was quiet now—clearer than it had been since the hills.

They think they broke me. They didn’t.

He thought of Swathi—safe with Krish, probably. Thought of her father stepping in, not for him, but to keep the mess from exploding.

The van slowed, then stopped. Doors opened. Rough hands pulled him out, dropped him on the edge of a deserted stretch of highway—dust, distant truck lights, the smell of diesel and dry earth.


One constable leaned down, voice low.

The constable gave back his phone in the dirty torn shirt.. The phone just stick to it..
“Walk away. Don’t come back to the station. Ever.”

They got in, drove off. Taillights faded.

Vikram pushed himself to his knees, then to his feet. Ribs burned like fire. He spat blood into the dirt, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.


Instead, he started walking—slow, limping—toward the faint glow of a roadside tea stall half a kilometer ahead.

He limped toward the faint orange glow half a kilometer ahead: a roadside tea stall, plastic chairs scattered under a tin roof, a single bulb swinging like a tired pendulum. The owner—a thin man in a faded lungi—looked up as Vikram staggered closer. One glance at the bloodied face, the swollen eye, the way he clutched his side, and the man’s expression closed.


“Tea?” Vikram rasped.

The owner shook his head, eyes sliding away. “No change, anna. Only water.” He pushed a steel tumbler across the counter, lukewarm, tasting faintly of rust.

Vikram drank it in slow gulps, water cutting tracks through the blood in his mouth. He set the tumbler down, nodded once, and kept walking. Further down the road a faded flex banner flapped in the night breeze—white letters on blue: FREE MEDICAL CAMP – 2 KM AHEAD – ORGANISED BY a FOUNDATION. He almost laughed. Hope. The word felt like a bad joke tonight.

But his legs had other ideas.

One step blurred into the next. The world tilted. Asphalt rushed up to meet him. He collapsed face-down in the dirt shoulder, arms splayed, cheek pressed to cool gravel. 

Time slipped. 

An hour? Two? Trucks thundered past, headlights washing over him like indifferent searchlights. People on two-wheelers slowed for a second, then accelerated away. No one stopped. In this city, a bleeding man on the roadside was just another hazard sign.


His mind drifted, looping through old wounds. Malar’s cold smile as she pinned the blame on him. Malavika’s laughter while the world believed her lies. Affairs he never asked for, accusations he never earned. Imposed. Always imposed.

But this time was different.

This time he had chosen.

Swathi and Krish—whatever messy, desperate love they carried—he had guarded it with silence. With cracked ribs and split lips. For once the beating served something real. Not revenge. Not lust. Just… protection.

A small, broken smile tugged at his bloody mouth.
My beatings finally used for some real love.

The thought warmed him as the edges of the world began to fray. His grip on consciousness loosened. No one was coming.




An angel who had wandered into the wrong story.



Then—an auto-rickshaw’s putt-putt engine, slowing.
Tires crunched to a stop.
Footsteps—quick, light.




A voice, soft and urgent, sliced through the fog.

“Sir… Sir! Enna aachu ungalukku?” (What happened to you, sir?)



He felt hands—small, gentle—turn him over. A face swam into view: wide eyes, innocent round cheeks, a simple cotton salwar streaked with road dust. Hair tied back in a loose braid, no makeup, just worry written everywhere.


She looked like something out of a dream he didn’t deserve—an angel who had wandered into the wrong story.

“Ayo… ivalo ratham…” (So much blood…)

She pressed fingers to his wrist, checking pulse. Her touch was cool against his fevered skin.



“Sir, please hold on. Pulse is there. Nothing to worry. Just injuries. Please hold…”
Another woman climbed out of the auto—older, stern-faced, arms crossed.



“Unakku idhu theva illaadha velai,” she muttered. (This is unnecessary work for you.)

The angel didn’t look up. “No. It’s my job. Our job. We are nurses. We are here to serve humankind.”



The words landed like scripture—simple, earnest, the kind of line only cinema or textbooks dared to speak anymore. Vikram’s eyelids fluttered. He tried to focus on her face. So much concern for a stranger. More than anyone who ever claimed to care about him.

Hands—more now—lifted him. Two, three people. Careful. He was carried, weightless, into the auto.
The angel sat first. They laid his head in her lap. The fabric of her salwar was soft against his cheek; her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, steadying him as the auto lurched forward.



The engine’s rattle became a lullaby. The warmth of her lap seeped into his battered body like medicine. For the first time in days, pain felt distant.

A phone rang—sharp, tinny.
The older woman answered.
“Where are you? Why late?”

“Sister, someone… a man is beaten badly. Wounds everywhere.”
“So what? Why are you late?”
“We are carrying him here.”


“What beaten? We need to file a security officer case before taking him into the camp.”
“Will she hear?”
“Who?”


“Mirnaa.”



Vikram’s blurred eyes cracked open wider.
Mirnaa.



The name floated through the haze like a lifeline. He looked up—into those worried eyes again. The angel’s name was Mirnaa.



His cracked lips moved, barely a whisper.
“Mirnaaa…”



She leaned closer, brow furrowed, thumb brushing a streak of blood from his temple.
“Shh… hold on, sir. We’re almost there. You’re safe now.”

The auto rattled on toward the medical camp lights glowing in the distance.
Vikram let his eyes close again.

Not because he was giving up.

Because—for the first time in a long time—he believed someone might actually mean it when they said he was safe. The eyes that had mercy he never saw in his life before...



An angel in disguise, maybe.

Or maybe just a human who still remembered what mercy looked like. Mirnaa never let go of his hand.

Women, in his world, were always the ones who accused, who used, who left scars that never quite healed. He had built walls so high he no longer expected anyone to scale them.

And yet here she was—the first woman he actually wanted to keep looking at, not for her body, not for what she might promise or take away, but purely for the mercy she carried like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.



His lips moved, again calling in peace..

“Mirnaaa…”

[heygiwriter]

This is truly amazing script writer man superb

Really its like a novel man the story plot line, your narration excellent

Truly amazing script writing

Thanks a lot as usual the encouragements keeps pushing me to do spend time on writing.. thanks again

[heygiwriter]

Just awesome story telling.... man now I would have to wait for hours or days for a new update.... but dont rush ... we will wait for your next update... take time as we know that you also have life to live.... but thanks alot man.... fkkk sex... I just love the story, the plot... I am normally good in guessing thriller mystery,  but ur storelies are hard to read and expect future plots.. JUST WOWWWWW? ????????

Thank you :) Glad to know

[heygiwriter]

You have brought a new breath to the air . Everything You have created is so unique and Fresh .Even your style and your writing skills are of very high level . I cannot write much for your praise because I dont know many words and I have yet to read the 15 chapters .

I have read the last chapter , I am just curious Why do you hate your Protagonist so much , hahahahaha . VIKRAM is fighting for his life  .

In all your story the Central character suffered so much , First Cancer , Second Cheating wife , Now the guy is about to die . Why ? Just Kidding

Keep Going .

Your Fan .

     

Vikram character here is for two reasons in the Husband Doubt there will be a character called Vikram he was supposed to be g ame changer but he was not used well. So retained that name and second is just for all the struggling of protagonists in all my stories for the compensation.. here look out for what he is up to.. after he met Mirnaa :)


and Thanks for the appreciation. More update today planned lets see

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 21: The Camp & The First Touch of Mercy



The medical camp glowed like a small island of light on the dark highway shoulder—white tents, portable generators humming, volunteers in blue aprons moving between cots. 


The NGO-Church banner fluttered above the entrance: "Free Care for the Broken & Forgotten." Vikram was carried in on a makeshift stretcher—two camp workers holding the edges, Mirna walking beside them, one hand steady on his shoulder.


The moment they stepped inside, the buzz changed.
Heads turned. Doctors paused mid-stitch. Nurses whispered. A few volunteers stepped back instinctively.



"He looks like he was beaten half to death," someone muttered.

Another voice, low: "security officer threw him out. I saw the van drop him on the road like trash. Kms away."
Hands stilled. No one moved to help.



Mirna’s voice rose—quiet but firm, cutting through the hesitation.

"Please. He needs care. Now."



A nun—older, white habit, gentle but unyielding—stepped forward. She looked at Vikram’s swollen face, the blood on his shirt, the way he barely breathed, then at Mirna.

"You brought him in alone?"


Mirna nodded. "He collapsed on the road. I couldn't leave him."

The old doctor—an elderly man with thick glasses and steady hands—pushed through the crowd. He knelt beside the stretcher, checked Vikram’s pulse, lifted an eyelid.


"Multiple fractures. Ribs, maybe one punctured lung. Dehydration. Shock setting in."

He looked up at the nun. "Admit him soon. He needs immediate care."


But the camp buzzed with hesitation. Other doctors, staff, organizers shook their heads.

"Let's call the security officer first," one said. "We can't operate without a security officer FIR. What if he's a criminal? We could get in trouble."


Another nodded. "He looks like he escaped custody. No way we touch him without clearance."

Mirna pleaded, voice rising. "He's dying! We can't wait!"


Vikram heard every word through the haze—blurred, distant, like echoes in a storm. No energy to thank her. To defend himself. He just prayed, silent and broken: Something good… let me see her one proper look before it ends. She's the only good person a women I've witnessed in my life so far.


That was when a constable—stationed to guard the camp—pushed through the crowd. He squinted at Vikram’s swollen face, recognition flickering. He was another constable who had taken Vikram from the mansion back then. Vikram's story was popular in those circles—how women had framed a good man, false accusations that ruined him.

He didn't detail what happened to Vikram. Didn't say the words. He just realized he'd seen him in the case, and it was popular back then.


The constable pulled out his phone, dialed quickly. The call connected.

"Mohan anna? It's me. The boy from the mansion… the one with the village FIR. He's here. Badly beaten. They say security officer dumped him on the road."



A pause. Then the constable nodded.


"Okay. I'll tell them."

He hung up, turned to the old doctor. "Treat him. He's clean. That was Mohan—the hostel owner. He vouches for him."


But the hesitation lingered. "We still need an FIR," someone muttered. "security officer clearance."


Mohan was out of station. But he called Sekaran. Sekaran, with one call, sent a security officer inspector.
Within minutes, the inspector rolled up—gravel crunching under tires. He stepped inside the tent, looked at Vikram, then at the constable.

"Same kid from the mansion case?"


The constable nodded. "Same one."

The inspector exhaled. "Treat him. No charges. I'll handle the paperwork. He is not a criminal he is a good person.."


While others had a relief of knowing Vikram is Good person.. 

Mirna didn't seem to care.. she just cared about his well being.. irrespective of good or bad she was ready to help.. and the moment she hears  he is a good person.. she felt nothing but a more relief..


The camp staff blinked in confusion as security officer vouched for the man they’d seen bleeding on the road. The doctors relented—threading needles, wrapping bandages, starting an IV.


Looking at her state, Nun and doctor decided to make Mirna as nurse appointed just to take care of VIkram. 

She never left his side—checking vitals, wiping blood, adjusting pillows. Her hands were steady, her voice soft.


Even in the haze of pain and morphine, Vikram could sense her touch among all others. The doctors' hands were clinical. The nurses' were hurried. But Mirna's were different—warm, careful, lingering just long enough to comfort, never to claim.


Every time she adjusted the drip, brushed hair from his forehead, or held his hand to check his pulse, something inside him relaxed. Not lust. Not fear. Just… peace.


He had been touched by women who accused, who framed, who used. This was the first touch that asked for nothing.

She only knew he called her name in his sleep—soft, broken, like a prayer.


And she never let go of his hand.


Mirna never knew her touch was recovering a man from countless hurts.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 22: Mirnaa hears the pain of Vikram..



Doctors treated him. He was unconscious for almost 8 hours.

Mirna carefully took care of him. She got hold of his mobile and tried to check for any contacts—dad, mom, wife, or even girlfriend. Nothing. Only two names: Sekaran and Mohan.


She remembered Mohan calling earlier, telling her he would reach in 2 days—he was out of station—and that he had sent some money through someone. Sekaran was unreachable.

The old constable who saw him first in the camp—when no one wanted him treated—lingered by Vikram’s cot all these hours. He collected all intel on him. His boots scuffing the dirt floor every fifteen minutes, until he settled into a chair.

Mirna was always inside Vikram’s room. She didn’t leave him.

Looking at her, the constable decided to thank her. His voice low and gravelly as he spoke to Mirna.
"Thank you. If all nurses were like you, India would be peaceful."
Mirna looked up, surprised.

The constable continued, eyes distant. "This guy is an orphan."
Mirna got a hit—she was one too. She listened.

The constable continued, eyes distant, voice low like he was reciting a story he had carried for years.

“Family turned on him,” he began. “Raised by relatives after his parents passed early. Sharp as a tack—topped college, first in his academy batch, mechanical engineering degree in hand. But they saw him as a burden. A girl in the family—his cousin’s fiancée—wanted him out of the picture. They framed him for theft, pinned a gold ring and cash missing on him. All lies. Threw him out of the house. He walked away with nothing but the clothes on his back and that crumpled degree certificate.”

Mirna’s fingers slowed on the damp cloth she was using to clean Vikram’s brow. She listened, chest tightening.


“He came to Chennai,” the constable went on. “Tried to start fresh. Found a cheap room, you would have saw  a old man calling in the name Mohan? He was the owner of the mansion he stayed.  Vikram then hunted jobs in workshops. He got new friends there Ramesh and Suresh… 


Then another woman entered his life—Malavika. Suresh’s girlfriend. The one who got him the job at the loan company.


She acted like a sister—called him ‘anna,’ helped him with targets, shared tea, even let him drive her on Suresh’s bike. Everyone knows this then suddenly one day she claimed VIkram molested her and tried to force her. There was a witness, there was this manager Kaushik, who heroically saved her…
Everyone believed.. But it is said that.. Malavika and Kaushik were in an affair, seems like Vikram found it.. I don't know but somehow they framed him. The worst part is Suresh believed her. The mansion threw him out. That was the second time a woman broke him.”



Mirna’s breath caught. She looked down at Vikram’s bruised face—swollen eye, split lip, the quiet rise and fall of his chest.


Constable exhaled and said glad Mohan did not believe the story of Malavika,, he secretly send him out for a better place..


“He never fought back the way most men would,” the constable said softly. “Never raised a hand. Never screamed. Just… took it. Again and again. Rough life, none of it his doing.”


He stood, adjusted his cap. “I don’t know what he’s doing now. My circle says he worked for a big-shot politician, Sekaran. Vikram was good—he got taken care of like Sekaran’s own son. But after Sekaran settled with his daughter in the USA… he moved to another politician. 


Looks like he got into new trouble there. I’m not sure what happened in the new place, but all I know and heard is he is truly a gold person indeed—brilliant. Could have been an engineer, but people’s selfishness punished him.”



The constable smiled faintly. “My duty will be shifted to a nearby event tomorrow. He has no one. You should continue to take care of him.”

Mirna nodded, eyes still on Vikram. The constable walked away, boots scuffing the dirt floor one last time.
She stayed.


Minutes later, Vikram cracked an eye again, and there she was—Mirna, tears tracing her cheeks, her quiet sobs a testament to the pity she felt for a stranger’s pain.


Before she could see him opening eyes.. He gone back to unconscious state… She brushed tears away quickly, tending to him with care—lifting a cup of water to his cracked lips, adjusting the bandage on his arm—her presence a lifeline he couldn’t name.


In the evening…


The nun came and said, “Only two more days the camp will be here. I’m planning to send someone here to take care… start packing your stuff.”
She went.


The stories she heard on Vikram, his state… she resolved she should not leave him. But she was torn between the nun’s words and her thoughts—the nun who brought her up.


She decided to take care the best she can in whatever days she can. He has no one and he is just like me.. 
She slept near the bed 
Vikram eyes moved again..

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 22 :   Mirnaa Hears the Pain of Vikram II   -  Swathi Visited and Mirnaa now know more about Vikram


Vikram opened his eyes and saw Mirna sleeping aside…

He felt safer in his 27 years of life than anything.
He decided to sleep tight — Mirnaa will take care of him.
He didn’t know who she was but her mercy is what he clung onto now…


Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of Chennai, Swathi heard from her father that he had freed Vikram.


Upon asking where he is, he casually said, “The security officer had thrown him away… if something happened in custody, your name will be dragged.”


Swathi shouted, “Appa, what have you done?! He saved your daughter’s future, he saved your daughter’s dignity — is this the way you treat him?”


Her father reasoned calmly, “You should not care about a mere driver… let’s pay him if he comes after recovery.”

She immediately alerted Krish.

The next day it was their court hearing. The politician father-in-law could do anything to Krish or her… but she decided to risk.


At 11:20 PM Swathi slipped into the camp, her sari dark against the lantern glow, her eyes shadowed with guilt as she watched Vikram’s shallow breaths. She’d heard how her family had trashed him for her sake, and it pressed heavy on her soul.


She turned to the nurse at his side, sleeping… Mirna woke up by the sound.
Swathi asked softly, “Is there any attendant for him?”
Mirna replied, “No one. He is an orphan.”


Swathi said, “I know…” then added, “Give me some personal time.”
Mirna was puzzled. Who is she? She looked great — maybe Vikram’s girlfriend?
Mirna decided to step away.


Swathi stood there, then sat on a stool.


“I doubted you… i humiliate you calling gay, threatened you ... but you saved my dignity. You should not have taken so much for me. I’m not even your friend and you know me just for 4 days... why are you this loyal? I promise when you awake you will see a better future.”


Vikram listened — all he could. He could not react… and he didn’t want to.
He decided he should see only Mirnaa… for sometime.
Then she wiped her tears and stood, steady.


Swathi pressed a thick wad of 50,000 rupees into Mirna’s hand, her voice trembling.

“He’s gold,” she said. “Tell him Swathi came — he knows me.”

Mirna asked, puzzled, “You are his…?”


Swathi saw her unease and said, “I’m no one… but from today, I will be his friend, sister, whatever… girlfriend or wife is already stolen by Krish, my would-be,” she laughed.


For some strange reason Mirna felt happiness.
Swathi quickly read her face. She asked, “You are a nurse here or you know him?”
Mirna said, “No I don’t know him but I learned a lot about him — he is a good person.”
Swathi took a breath, she continued…


“This is my fault — he saved me from ruin. Anyone else would’ve taken cash to sell me out, but him? Two days of talk, just a driver, and he took the fall. Who is he to get a beating so that I can get freed from my gay husband? I will buy some time to  prove my husband in court and move on to live my love life with Krish… 

He got those... he is selfless..


Swathi then looked around and saw her watch…  I can’t stay — too risky, my father in laws people are looking for me.. 


She turned around before leaving took an amount , another and said 10,000 for you, that 50000 for him. Call if he needs more.”


She dropped a card — its bold print flashing her power — then slipped away, a tear catching the light.


Mirna stared at the money, the card, and saw Vikram anew — not just wronged, but noble…


Every hour passed, every new information about Vikram… 

Mirnaa wanted badly to converse with him… he is a heroic figure, a selfless figure she saw only in fairy tales…

She smiled and sat near him… she didn’t know when she slept but she slept… near him in chair…

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 23: The Sheet & The Shared Dawn



After Swathi went.. Mirnaa kept looking at Vikram's face.. 

She felt something in her but could not name it.. She didnt know when she slept.. She slept near him in a chair beside his cot.. Her read rested on his cot..


The midnight cold seeped through the tent, wind rattling the canvas. Mirna slumped beside his cot, arms crossed against the chill, no blanket to shield her. Her breathing had slowed into the soft rhythm of sleep, head tilted forward, braid loosened, one strand falling across her cheek.



Vikram opened his eyes.


Pain still lived in every breath—ribs, face, the dull throb in his back—but it was distant now, dulled by medicine and time. He turned his head slowly. The lantern light was low, flickering gold across her face. She looked smaller in sleep, unguarded, almost fragile.


In his 27 years of life, no one had ever slept beside him without wanting something. Not his relatives.

But here she was—Mirna—curled in a chair that was too small for comfort, staying through the night because she chose to. Not for money. Not for secrets. Not for power.


He felt safer than he had ever felt.

He didn’t know who she was, not really—but her mercy was what he clung to now. The only warm thing in a lifetime of cold.


His arm moved—slow, aching—reaching for the thin bedsheet stacked on the stool nearby. Every muscle protested. Ribs screamed. But he gritted his teeth and stretched, fingers trembling, until he caught the corner of the fabric.


He pulled it toward him. Then, with the last strength he had, he dbangd it over her shoulders.


The sheet settled softly, covering her arms, her back. She didn’t stir.


A nurse passed by the tent flap, footsteps light on the dirt. She saw the movement—Vikram’s shaky reach, the sheet falling over the sleeping girl—and smiled quietly. She didn’t speak. Just nodded once, as if she understood, and slipped away into the night.



Vikram sank back against the thin pillow, arm brushing hers as he let himself spill half off the cot to make space. Her warmth reached him through the inches between them—quiet, steady, real.
He closed his eyes again.




Dawn broke slowly.


Mirna stirred first. She blinked awake, confused by the weight across her shoulders. The sheet. Soft, worn, smelling faintly of antiseptic and him.

She looked down.


Vikram was beside her—half-spilling off the narrow cot, arm still outstretched from where he had dbangd the fabric over her. His face was bruised, swollen eye crusted with sleep, but his breathing was even. Peaceful.


She touched the sheet, fingers lingering on the place where his had been.


A nurse passed by—older, weary from the night shift—and caught Mirna’s expression.


“Him,” the nurse said with a small smile. “Last night—he covered you.”
The voice of Nurse woke him up...


Mirna’s gaze settled on Vikram anew. Bruised. Broken. But golden.

His eyes opened then—slowly, painfully.

They met hers.
Straight to straight.
No words.


Just silence and the weight of two people seeing each other clearly for the first time.
He didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away.


They never knew they were already deeply connected.
And it was only the start of their journey.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 24: The Reunion of Friends and Vikram’s line Mirnaa will Take Care.



Vikram watched her eyes and Mirnaa watched his eyes..


Now no words passed between them, just a shared look, a bond threading through the cold—love’s first bloom, pure and fragile, taking root in the silence.


A head nurse came in, footsteps soft on the dirt floor. She checked Vikram’s chart, then glanced at Mirna sleeping looking at him…


Nurse shocked him what are you looking at 

Mirna stirred, she came back to sense  .. “He opened his eyes,” she said quietly.
The head nurse nodded. “Good. Stay with him. I’ll get the doctor.”


Mirnaa said, “Wait here. I will be back.”

She stood, smoothed her salwar, and walked straight to the nun’s tent.
The nun was folding linens, calm as always. Mirna stopped in the doorway.
“I’m not leaving,” she said.


The nun looked up, gentle but firm. “What happens to you, child?”
Mirna took a breath. “Sister, hear me.”

She told the entire story she knew — the constable’s words, the framing, the betrayals, the mansion, the job, the second woman, the beating. She spoke of Vikram — orphan like her, brilliant, punished by others’ selfishness, a gold person who had taken pain for others again and again.

The nun listened, eyes softening. She took a breath, knowing how gold Vikram was.



Mirna said.. He has no one sister… I will stay with him.  He is a good man...
“I have no control,” the nun said. “The lead organizer needs to give his approval. Vikram needed to be shifted to a different hospital — we can’t take him to the next camp we are setting up, 60 km away.”


Mirna said i'm not asking to take him to our next camp..  I will stay with him until he recovers


Nun said: Okay, lets assume i'm allowing you to stay with him.. Will the new hospital permit you a new nurse to nurse him at the place


Mirnaa said: I will stay with him as a friend a guardian not as nurse


Nun Laughed…
Mirna pleaded. “Please.”


Nun said Kid kid.. You seemed grown now..  

Nun: “You are young, unmarried… I worry for your reputation. But I see your heart. And he has no one. If Swathi guarantees expenses and you promise daily updates… I will allow it. But only until he is immovable or unstable.”


Mirna said he got his consciousness back.. 

What he opened his eyes.. Okay regarding your stay with him... “I will speak to organizer… not for you, for that soul.”

She went.



Just 1 day to go. If no approval from the lead, she had to leave him.

Mirna returned to the cot. Vikram was awake now, eyes half-open, watching her. She sat beside him, hand near his.

She called Swathi’s number. And went out to speak with her…




Swathi answered on the first ring. “What?”

Mirna explained the issue — camp ending, no approval yet, need to shift to private hospital.
Swathi didn’t hesitate. “I’ll arrange a private hospital for him to move. Give me an hour.”



While she was speaking, Mohan arrived — with Ramesh and Suresh.
They stepped into the tent. Vikram was stunned to see them.

Ramesh asked, voice thick, “Why didn't you call us when they beat you at the station or when they took you?”


Vikram smiled but saw Vikram and was about to say sorry to him..
Suresh closed Vikram’s mouth gently. “Don’t say anything.”

Suresh continued.. I realised the betrayal…. To cut short: Kaushik divorced his wife and Malavika is his new wife. Things happened after you left the mansion in 4 months. They had already planned it. They were just finding some reason for Malavika to break up with me.. And they framed you… I only realised when they got married.

Suresh: “I had no strength to face you… that is when we heard you got a better place with Sekaran, so we didn’t disturb you.”

The friends finally hugged — careful, mindful of Vikram’s wounds.


Ramesh said, “I had shifted to Coimbatore. New family and job. But when Mohan said on the phone, we came here.”


Suresh continued in the same mansion.. Lost faith in marriages.. Earning good but the hurt still there. He said all..


Vikram signed not to worry…



Vikram was happy — eyes shining despite the bruises.
Mohan asked, voice low, “Sorry we left you with no one…”
Sekaran is in trouble, so we are assembling a new team…


Vikram grabbed strength to ask  “What?”
Mohan said, “Don’t panic. All good. Once you come back, Sekaran will meet you. He asked to pass you a message.”


Mohan added, “We will stay with you.”
Vikram said smilingly, face swollen yet showing a shy look, “No, don’t stay. I have someone else to look after me.”


The trio looked at each other. Mohan smilingly asked, “Who is that?”
Vikram said, “Mirnaa.”



Minutes later Mirna came to the bed. She said, “Swathi arranged a private hospital for you. Tomorrow they will take you there. 


Vikram face went small , he was worried that tomorrow he wont be able to see her?


Then she looked at the three new people. They got introduced to each other… but hid what Vikram said — Mirnaa will take care.



The nun came to the room and said, “Mirnaa, lead said okay for you to stay here and look after him only if he had a person taken in charge of his expenses at private places. Also he wants all the details of his identity, a local guardian of him.. Someone who can give guarantees for him..  And I tried "We can't take him to the new camp.”



Mirna said, no problem, his sister Swathi arranged a hospital. As she is away ..  I will stay with him.”


Nun asked you said he is orphan how come a sister.. 


Mirna said.. Not blood or relation to some wellwisher.. I assumed her relation could be sister-brother with Vikram. Nun was really worried about Mirna's change..

Then Nun took Mirnaa aside and said


As i said earlier.. i cant permit you when he got his stability back.. Once he got his strength back i need you to comeback.. and for the no of days.. i would permit you another 10 days not more... Even if he didn't get back you need to comeback to camp in 10 days


Nun still could not leave her alone with Vikram.. but she decided to leave her here after hearing the story of Vikram…


Vikram didn’t realize what was happening but he knew Mirnaa was already on her way to become more than a friend. he is just have no idea how to take it forward.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 25: The 10 Days of together


After Nun and Mohan left… Mirna came to him and said, “As you don’t have anyone to take care, I volunteered to look after you. Will you be okay?”
Vikram looked at her, eyes soft through the swelling. “Thanks… I’m glad…”

A tear dropped from Vikram’s eyes.
That’s it. No further talks between them.


They were nerdy both — didn’t know how to speak with words, but their affection for each grew without words.

The next day… The entire camp, Mohan, nun — all knew some unsaid bond going between Vikram and Mirnaa, but everyone gave them respectful places with no judgment passed.

When everyone was busy packing, Mirnaa took all the reports, scans, and all to the doctor and discussed shifting.


Mohan arrived with an ambulance, and Swathi sent a staff from the hospital to transfer stuffs.
Mirnaa got in the ambulance.


Before she goes, the nun hugged her… Asked her to take care. She said, “All these days I took care of you. Now for the first time you are leaving me to take care of somebody… If that is God’s wish, I cannot stop. Just be careful, call me every now and then, and remember — just 10 days… I want my kid back.”


Mirnaa smiled and waved back.
At the new hospital… Mirnaa registered herself as guardian rather than nurse to avoid hospital procedures.




Day 1–2: The First Steps (Physical Care & Trust)

Vikram was weak — could barely sit up. Mirna helped him with everything: holding the water glass so he could drink, supporting his back when the doctor checked his ribs, adjusting pillows so he could breathe easier.
She never complained, never rushed. When he tried to do something himself and winced, she gently took over — no words, just a soft "Let me."
Vikram noticed: she anticipated his pain before he showed it (fluffed the pillow before he shifted, brought a straw before he tried to sip).
One moment: He tried to stand to use the bathroom. Legs buckled. She caught him — arms around his waist, his arm over her shoulder. They froze for a second. He muttered "Sorry." She said "Never be sorry for needing help."
End of day 2: He fell asleep holding her hand (he reached for it during a bad pain spike). She didn't pull away.


Day 3–5: Shared Silence & Small Routines (Emotional Closeness)


Vikram could sit in a chair now. Mirna brought meals, sat with him while he ate slowly.
They didn't talk much — but the silence was comfortable. She read patient charts or a small book; he watched the window or her.


Day 6–9: Confidence Blooms (From Nerdy to Strong Together)
Vikram started walking short distances (with walker/Mirna support). He stumbled once — she caught him again. This time he laughed — first real laugh in years. 


She laughed too. They slowly began comfort talks. Small steps.. 
They talked more — short, nerdy things:
He: "I used to fix engines. Liked the logic. Everything had a reason."
She: "I liked biology. Understanding how bodies heal. It gave me hope."
Both admitted they were "toppers" but life broke the path.
Protective moment: A rude ward boy snapped at Mirna for asking for extra bandage. Vikram (weak but firm): "Speak to her with respect." Boy backed off. Mirna looked at Vikram — surprised, touched.
She started teasing him gently: "You look less like a ghost today." He smiled shyly: "You look less tired."
They became "confident friends": He let her lean on him (figuratively) when she was exhausted; she let him hold her hand when pain spiked.


Nurses used to Joke with Vikram.. We have a fight below in the reception we wanted only your room to take care you know why


Mirna asked why?... Because if we choose your room. We need not worry to take care him.. You are doing that job already 


She blused and vikram noticed it 


Day 9: The Conversation That Mattered


With only two days to go for Mirnaa to depart… Vikram decided to speak.
He said thanks. He said she was the first woman… Really a woman who didn’t push him — instead you pulled him from the fall.
Mirnaa said, “I know… I know your entire story.”
Vikram went silent. He said, “I hate sympathy grace falling on me. From young I face it… I need respect — real, pure. If Malar wanted a rich life… If she asked me, I would have left her to Vicky without any trouble. But she didn’t ask. Everyone tried to control me…”
Mirnaa listened.
Vikram said, “Glad you got into my life. I would miss you when you leave.”
Mirna could not face him. She didn’t want to leave him. She liked him. She struggled to tell it… so did Vikram.
In the evening…
Vikram could walk distances unaided. The doctor said he can be discharged soon.


Day 10: The Farewell That Isn't

Mirna looked sad — "Camp is over. I was supposed to leave days ago."
Vikram: "You stayed anyway."
She: "I couldn't leave you. At this state"
He: hmmmm


No big declaration. Just a quiet agreement — she will stay until he is fully on his feet.
That evening…  They sat on the hospital balcony at sunset. She rested her head on his shoulder (first voluntary closeness). He didn't flinch.


Suddenly the Nun calls — "I trusted you and left with Vikram… I hear he is doing fine… just come back kid…" Tears rolled out from Mirnaa.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 26: The 11th Day & The Parting That Binds



The 11th day began with the quiet hum of the city waking outside the private hospital window. Vikram was still in bandages — ribs taped, arm in a sling, face bruised but healing. He could walk short distances now, but every step cost him. Yet he insisted on going.


Mirna was ready to leave for the new camp — 60 km away. She had packed her small bag, salwar neat, braid tight. But her eyes kept drifting to Vikram.

Mohan’s car waited outside. Vikram refused the wheelchair. He walked — slow, leaning on Mirna’s arm — to the elevator, then to the car. She didn’t protest. She just stayed close.

The drive was silent at first. Mohan drove, glancing in the rear-view now and then. Vikram and Mirna sat in the back — her hand near his, not holding, just close enough to feel.

Mirnaa looked at him and said. “You didn’t have to come with me to the camp.”
Vikram smiled softly. “I wanted to.”

He nodded. No more words needed.

The new camp site unfurled in a quiet stretch of tents and greenery — the same NGO-Church banner fluttering, organizers unloading supplies, nurses setting up cots. Vikram led Mirna through the dust, her fingers grazing his as they stepped into the familiar bustle.

The head organizer — a lean man with a gentle smile — welcomed them, eyes glinting with the trust they’d earned. He drew Vikram aside while Mirna started packing her stuff.

His voice was low and earnest. “You love her, don’t you?”
Vikram nodded, warmth rising in his chest. “Yes.”
“Proposed yet?”

“Not yet,” Vikram confessed. “But she loves me too — I know it.”


The organizer’s expression softened. “Tell her soon. She’s back to her Kerala church — get their blessing, marry her. Mirna’s obedient, innocent — we’ve watched her all these years, like family. She’s only ever cared for you this way. Don’t break her trust — take good care of her.”


Vikram looked down at his bandages, then back at the man. “Now that you said it… I have confidence. I will soon. Not at this time.” He gestured to his wounds. “I want to tell her when I’m fully recovered.”


The organizer laughed gently. “I’m surprised — while everyone here sensed your love for each other, you two didn’t share it even after 10 days?”
Vikram went silent and shy.


The man patted his shoulder. “Take your time. She’ll wait.”


Two–three hours passed. Vikram watched her from a distance — packing, folding linens, saying goodbyes to other nurses. She moved with quiet grace, but her eyes kept searching for him.


Mirna had no mood to go. She waited…
As the bus horn honked, she turned to him.


Tears flowed when Vikram said goodbye. Her frame trembled as he pulled her close — careful of his bandages. She clung to him, face buried in his shoulder.
He murmured, “We’ll meet soon.”


The parting was heavy. Everyone around felt bad for how things were unfolding. The nun felt bad… she just wanted one of them to ask her permission — “Sister, I need to stay” or “Sister, I need her.” But no one opened their mouth. She couldn’t voluntarily make Mirna stay back.


She wiped her tears and took Mirna into the bus.

She said to Mirna, “He will be okay soon… hope you both shared your numbers.”
Mirna realised — she never gave her number.

She quickly wrote it on a small paper, leaned out the window, and threw it.
Vikram caught it — struggling on the ground, bandages pulling, but he caught it.
As the bus pulled away, Vikram shouted, “We meet soon!”
Her tear dropped… and it turned into a smile.


She waved from the window until the bus turned the corner.
Vikram stood there, paper in hand, watching the dust settle.

He looked at the number — simple, neat handwriting.

Then he looked at the road ahead.

He knew: this was not goodbye.
It was the start of something that wouldn’t let go.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 27: The Rescue & The Converging Paths



Vikram was recovering — bandages still tight around his ribs, sling on his arm, but he could move without wincing every step. The private hospital had been a quiet sanctuary, but the outside world was pulling him back. 


In Mohan’s car on the way back to the hospita after dropping Mirnaa.l, Vikram stared out the window. The city blurred past — shops, crowds, the same world that had chewed him up. He thought of Mirna — her quiet smile, her hand in his during the bad nights. He didn’t want to enter Sekaran's world. He wanted to come clean before loving her, before marrying her. No shadows, no blood.


But Sekaran was the first one who trusted him and groomed him as a token of thanks.. He needs to fix it by entering their old once, fix it for Sekaran and get back to Mirnaa.. 



He turned to Mohan. “What’s the issue with Sekaran?”

Mohan gripped the wheel tighter. “You need not worry. We will take care. Now you seem to have got a new lifeline — Mirnaa. You should not enter here again.”


Vikram shook his head. “I didn’t propose to her yet. I didn’t give her hope of marriage. 


Before Mirnaa, it was Sekaran who gave me hope. I can’t stay silent. Just tell me. 


I will finish this once and go back to Mirnaa clean.”


Mohan exhaled, eyes on the road. “Aadharsh — Sekaran’s son — wants the hint on how Sekaran cracked the business with the new method. Sekaran didn’t want to leave out your name. Aadharsh thought it could be Krish who can think this way and he planned to put an alliance with Swathi’s father-in-law to pressure Krish. 


Now Swathi and Krish could not go public as the main evidence is locked with Aadharsh’s trusted men. The trusted men kidnapped that person..  The person is none other than Swathi’s husband’s gay lover — Sam . But trouble doesn’t stop there. The politician is now forcing Sekaran with his link to Sekaran’s daughter-in-law’s family and causing family issues, which worries Sekaran.”


On one side Swathi is his daughter's friend. Other side His own daughter faces issues from in laws


Vikram’s face hardened. “Let’s go there.”

Mohan glanced at him. “No, not in this state,” looking at his body — bandages, sling, bruises still yellowing his skin.


Vikram leaned forward, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs. “I can. Let’s forget my wounds. Just let’s see where the gay lover is. We can rescue him.”


Mohan pulled over, engine idling. “Vikram, you’re not ready. This is Aadharsh. He’s ruthless.”


Vikram met his eyes. “Sekaran gave me a chance when I was thrown out like trash. I owe him. Tell me the spot. I’ll go alone if I have to.”


Mohan sighed, defeated. “Fine. But I’m coming. The hidden spot is an old warehouse on the outskirts — Aadharsh’s men have Sam there. Let’s move.”



They turned the car around, heading toward the shadows Vikram thought he had left behind.



On the other hand…

Swathi’s father — Ramanathan — sat in his study, phone pressed to his ear. He had the same intel: Aadharsh had kidnapped Sam  to lock the evidence.
He called Bharath.

“One small help,” Ramanathan said. “Just recover Sam  — my son-in-law’s gay lover. Aadharsh kidnapped him.”


Bharath’s voice was flat. “I can’t… Aadharsh is asking to come into his network.”
Swathi’s father: “You can partner with him after some years, but this is my daughter’s life.”

Bharath paused. Then: “Okay. I will. Just let me know the location. I will rescue him.”


Ramanathan: “Old warehouse on the outskirts. Be careful.”
Bharath hung up, grabbed his keys, and started his bike. The road ahead was dark.



Vikram — with wounds, bandages pulling tight — on his way to the hidden spot in Mohan’s car. 

And similarly, Bharath on his way to the same spot. Both their goals are one: rescue Samuel.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 28: The Warehouse & The Bloodied Return


The warehouse stood on the city's edge — rusted iron gates, broken windows, darkness inside. Mohan drove fast, headlights cutting the night. Vikram sat in the passenger seat, bandages visible under his shirt, face set.
Mohan glanced at him. “You sure about this?”

Vikram nodded once. “Keep driving.”
The car accelerated. Mohan hit the gate hard — metal screamed, doors buckled. Vikram didn’t flinch. He was out before the car stopped, moving despite the pain.

Inside, Aadharsh’s men turned — five, armed with knives and pipes. Vikram used everything he learned in the last three years: Sekaran’s training, street fights, cold precision.

He threw the first knife — fast, accurate — it buried in a man’s shoulder. The second followed, pinning another’s sleeve to a crate. The rest rushed him.

Vikram fought with wounds. Every punch he took cracked ribs anew, every kick sent fire through his side. But he didn’t stop. He disarmed one, elbowed another, took a pipe to the arm — sling tore, blood soaked through. He kept moving.

Dramatic. Brutal. He dragged Samuel out — the gay lover, bound, terrified, but alive.

Outside, Bharath’s intel man (spying from a rooftop) saw the fight. He radioed Bharath: “Someone’s here. Fighting them. Taking Samuel.”
Bharath arrived minutes later — bike skidding to a stop. He saw Vikram — the same man he once found beaten in a security officer station — now bloodied, limping, dragging Samuel to Mohan’s car.
Bharath watched, surprised.

Mohan put Samuel in the backseat. Vikram climbed in, breathing hard, blood dripping from his arm. They drove — 20 minutes of tense silence, Mohan pushing the car hard.

Back at the private hospital, nurses rushed out. Vikram stepped out — shirt soaked red, sling hanging useless, face pale but eyes clear.
“Don’t call Mirnaa,” he said quietly. “Just hide this. She will worry.”

The sisters agreed — they helped him inside, cleaned him up, re-bandaged, no questions.
Bharath called Swathi’s father.

“The rescue is done,” he said. “By the driver. The same one from before. He fought them alone — wounded — and took Samuel. He doesn’t seem to be a simple driver.”

Swathi’s father exhaled. “It doesn’t matter. He saved my daughter twice. I will pay him good.”
Swathi learned about everything.

But before thanking Vikram, she and Krish moved fast. They grabbed Samuel from Mohan, took him to safety. With Samuel’s testimony — the gay lover — they legally stopped the old marriage and began a new life with Krish.


Swathi looked at Krish. “Vikram did this. For us. Again.”

Krish nodded. “We owe him more than money.”

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 29: Thirty Days of Pain & The love finally proposed.


The warehouse fight put Vikram back to stage one.

Doctors at the private hospital were furious when Mohan brought him in — blood-soaked bandages, fresh stitches torn open, ribs cracked again, arm swollen under the sling. They ordered strict bed rest — at least 30 days, no movement, no stress, no arguments.

Vikram lay there, staring at the ceiling, pain a constant companion. He had finished the job for Sekaran — Samuel was safe, Aadharsh’s leverage broken, the pressure on Krish lifted. Sekaran was at peace. But Vikram paid the price in blood. Due to constant pain he was given painkillers which makes him sleep all the day.

Swathi visited the next day after her marriage to Krish was finalized.

She walked in quietly — eyes red. She cried for the first time for someone. Not dramatic tears — silent, steady, the kind that come from guilt deeper than words.
She sat beside his bed. “I don’t know why you did this for me… again.”

Vikram was sound sleep. 

What swathi doesn't know was he didn't do it for her this time.. Its for Sekaran.
She stared, tears falling faster. “You took another beating… for someone else. While I got married, got my life back. And you…”

She reached for his hand.  No motion from him..


“Where is Mirnaa,” she whispered. To mohan.. 
Swathi said let me call her..

Mohan shook his head — sharp, pained. “Don’t. Vikram asked not to tell her. She will worry.”

Swathi nodded, understanding. She stayed a while, silent. Then left — promising to check on him.


Krish’s network needed him back in Dubai. He decided to go — business, new life, Swathi by his side. Before leaving, he gave Mohan a thick envelope of money. “Use this if he needs anything. Call if you need anything And… thanked him again.”


Mohan took it. “He won’t take it for himself.”
Krish smiled sadly. “I know.”


The 30 days passed in pain.

Vikram healed slowly — bed-bound at first, then short walks with a nurse’s help, then longer ones alone. He thought of Mirna every day — her hand in his, her quiet smile, the way she never asked for anything. He wanted to call her. But he didn’t. Not yet. He wanted to be whole first. He also know if he call her now.. she would suspect him with his voice...  


He was discharged on the 30th day. Mohan drove him back to the flat Swathi had arranged. Vikram’s body recovered in that way — slow, steady, stubborn.

Sekaran was at peace. Swathi gone to Dubai — no trouble reached for him. Vikram felt ease.

On the other side, in Kerala, Mirna thought about Vikram regularly. But she never got the call. She always expected it since he dropped her at the bus. 

She cursed herself for not getting his number — only giving hers. She didn’t use her brain to call Swathi — whose card was still in her bag. She was such a naive.

Many thought Vikram didn’t want to pursue her… and left the topic on it.




Five days later…

Five days passed, and Mirna worked a shift at a hospital near her church — hands steady on bandages, thoughts drifting to him.


Evening settled. She trudged back, called by the head sister — a stern woman whose rare smile hinted at something.

Stepping into the office, Mirna stopped short.
Vikram stood there — shirt pressed despite its wear, grin wide. No bandages visible. He looked… whole.

Tears sprang free — her cry a blend of shock and joy.


The sister smiled as Vikram crossed the room. He folded her into his arms — careful, gentle. Her breath warm against his neck.

He spoke soft into her hair.


“I love you, Mirna. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?”

He was shy yet put the words awkwardly...

Her “yes” spilled out — shaky and sure.

He slid a plain ring onto her finger — eyes pleading, accepted with a nod.


Friends from the church — crouched behind a curtain — burst in — singing, clapping — a joyful clamor flooding the space, a moment drenched in love.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 30: The Rain & The First Night


After she said yes, the nun met Vikram in the small office room off the church hall. The air smelled of incense and old wood. She closed the door softly, her white habit catching the light from a single bulb.


“I’m happy, Vikram,” she said, voice low and warm. “Mirna finally getting a family of her choice. She’s like a kid to me — 14 years she was with me. Just take care.”
Vikram nodded, throat tight. “I will, sister. Always.”


She handed him a small bundle of papers. “Give me all documents I need to carry some paperwork. Church blessing, certificates, everything. We’ll make it official.”
They figured out the marriage date — 20 days from then. Simple. Heartfelt. In the temple nearby. No grand affair — just the people who mattered.

Vikram stayed in Kerala. Days blurred as he planned their wedding — small things: buying flowers with Mirna, choosing plain gold rings, arranging a modest feast with the church families. Mirna was beside him every step, her laughter brightening the trips, her hand brushing his as they walked dusty lanes.


He accompanied her to the hospital and nearby special day camps. He watched her work — steady hands, gentle voice, the same care she gave him now given to strangers. He felt proud. And terrified. What if he didn’t deserve this?


One evening, returning from such a camp, rain poured heavy. The bridge connecting the town collapsed — water drumming the streets, roads flooded. They couldn’t go anywhere.


They ducked into a small lodge nearby — single room, tin roof, one bed, a window rattling with rain.


They booked it. Inside, the mood turned light. Wet clothes stuck to skin. Vikram flicked a damp towel at her — playful. She laughed, flicked one back. Giggles echoed off the walls — first time they played like children.


They settled. Clothes dried by the fan. Vikram sat on the bed. Mirna beside him.
He looked at her. “I have never heard your story. I always felt if my question would hurt you…”


Mirna’s voice fell then, her past unraveling.


“My family… my father’s step-brothers schemed. Car crash. Parents and brother gone. Grab for riches. I survived by luck. Landed in the church’s arms.”


She looked at him. “Yes, I used to feel bad for someone quick. I will feel pity for them, side them when they are hurt. But… I don’t trust easy. Especially ones who are offenders, crime doers… like some rowdies or henchmen. Not at all.”


Vikram really panicked. The roles she said suited him — rowdy, henchman, blood on hands from Sekaran’s world.


Mirna saw his face. She took his hand.


“Blood turned on blood,” she said softly. “But you risked yourself for a woman you didn’t know. That moment, I chose you for my life.”


Vikram pulled her close — consoling her with a hug. Then kissed her — cheek first, then neck, lips last. Heat flared. 


A pull they couldn’t resist.

[heygiwriter]

awesome

Thanks

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 31 : Vikram & Mirna's First Sex – A Seal of Love

A Consoling hug that initiated the heat

Vikram pulled her close—consoling her with a hug. His arms wrapped around her waist, her body pressing softly against his, her saree damp from the rain clinging to her skin like a second layer. 


The warmth of her breath on his neck sent a shiver through him, not from cold but from the sudden rush of something deeper, something he had never truly felt. He tilted her chin up gently, his thumb tracing her jawline, feeling the smoothness of her face, unmarred by the world's harshness.



He kissed her—cheek first, his lips lingering on the soft, warm flesh there, tasting the faint salt of rain and her skin. She was shy, her cheeks flushing a deep rose under his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, body tense but not pulling away. 



Then neck—his mouth moved lower, brushing the curve where her shoulder met her throat, feeling the pulse quicken beneath her skin. A small gasp escaped her, her hands clutching his shirt, fingers twisting the fabric as if to anchor herself.


What was supposed to be a consoling hug turns into something more.. That VIkram had absolutely no control over it.


Now his lips came near her Lips last. He hesitated, his eagerness building, heart pounding like it never had before—not with Malar's cold betrayal or Malavika's teasing deception. This was real. Pure. 




He leaned in, his mouth meeting hers softly at first, lips parted just enough to feel the warmth, the slight tremble in her. 


Mirna was shy, her kiss tentative, inexperienced, her hands now on his shoulders, gripping lightly as if afraid to hold too tight. But Vikram felt it—the eagerness in him rising, not frantic but insistent, his tongue gently tracing her lower lip, coaxing her open. She responded, shyly at first, her tongue meeting his, a soft exploration that sent heat pooling in his groin.


Heat flared. A pull they couldn’t resist.


Just like how love occupied them without any words.. Lust today won them.. 


Mirnaa was not in her mind.. She was not even aware of what she was doing.. She is allowing Vikram before marriage.. And she has no second thought of fear about this.


The Heat Consumed..


The room dimmed as their clothes slipped away—her sari pooling on the floor like silk water, unwinding slowly as his fingers fumbled with the knots, eager but careful, revealing the pale cream of her blouse beneath. He unbuttoned it with trembling hands, exposing her bra, the swell of her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breath. 


She was shy, arms crossing instinctively over her chest, eyes averted, cheeks burning.

 "It's okay," 

he whispered, his voice rough with desire, gently pulling her arms away. Her breasts were full, nipples hardening in the cool air, dark brown against her light skin, pert and inviting. He cupped one, feeling the weight, the softness, thumb grazing the nipple until she gasped, arching slightly.


His shirt tossed aside, revealing the lean muscle beneath his bandages, scars from the fight still fresh, red lines crossing his torso. She touched one tentatively, her fingers shy, tracing the ridge, eyes wide with concern and wonder. He pulled her bra down, exposing her fully, his mouth lowering to take a nipple between his lips, sucking gently, tongue swirling, feeling it harden under his attention. She moaned softly, her shyness melting into eagerness, hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer.


Tentative hands exploring. 

Love guiding them to the bed.

They sank onto the thin mattress, the springs creaking under their weight. Vikram hovered over her, eyes locked on hers, searching for any doubt. Her breath quickened as he pressed close—his body aligning with hers, the hardness of his erection against her thigh through his pants, eager but not demanding. This was his first real sex — he had seen Malar nude once, a stolen glimpse that had burned him with shame and lust, and Malavika's breast he had felt briefly, her trick almost giving him a taste of what a woman's body felt like, but that was manipulation, cold. This was different — he was occupying her now, claiming with love, not force. Her skin was soft, warm, her curves yielding under his touch, and it felt right, pure, like home.
He struggled with her salwar drawstring, fingers clumsy in his eagerness, her shyness making her giggle nervously as she helped him untie it. 


The fabric slid down her legs, revealing her panties, damp with arousal, the dark patch visible. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, pulling them off slowly, exposing her pussy — neat, dark curls framing pink lips, already glistening with wetness. 


She was shy, legs pressing together at first, but he gently parted them, his eagerness tempered by care, kissing her inner thigh, tasting her skin, feeling her tremble.



Her virginity a gift she gave willingly.

Vikram shed his pants, his cock springing free — hard, veined, throbbing with need, pre-cum beading at the tip. He positioned himself between her legs, eyes locked, one hand stroking her cheek. "If it hurts, tell me," he whispered. She nodded, shy but eager, her hands on his shoulders.


The first thrust came slow, careful — the head of his cock pressing against her entrance, feeling the tight resistance, her virgin folds parting reluctantly. He struggled to make entry — she was so tight, wet but unyielding, her gasp sharp as he pushed gently, inch by inch. "Relax," he murmured, kissing her lips to distract, one hand sliding between them to rub her clit in slow circles, easing her open. 


She whimpered, a mix of pain and pleasure, her nails digging into his back as he finally slid deeper, the sensation overwhelming — warm, tight walls enveloping him, hugging every inch.


Her gasp turned to softening moans as he bottomed out, buried fully inside her, feeling her hymen give way with a sharp sting for her, blood trickling lightly. 


He paused, letting her adjust, his eagerness held in check by pure love, kissing her forehead, whispering "You're safe with me." She nodded, hips shifting experimentally, urging him on.


His rhythm gentle, building as she clung to him, their bodies finding a dance — slow thrusts at first, her pussy stretching around him, slick with her arousal, the wet sounds filling the room. 

He felt every inch — the tight grip, the warmth, the way she arched when he hit a spot that made her moan louder. No maniac — just love, his hands exploring her breasts, pinching nipples gently, mouth on her neck, building her pleasure.


Pleasure crested. Her gasps turned to cries, body tensing as her first orgasm washed over her — walls clenching around him, milking his cock. He couldn't hold back — thrust deeper, rhythm quickening, his release spilling deep inside her — loads of semen flowing, hot and thick, filling her until it leaked out, drying in sticky trails across her thighs.


They collapsed, breathless, skin to skin.

Trust held them there — naked and entwined. No shame. Just love.
Sleep claimed them as the rain tapped the roof.


Their first night — a seal of their bond, pure and fierce.




Vikram opened his eyes... a bit ... he saw people around .. he was in same chaos ground.. 

//Cut to Present Day - Chapter 1 - The Pull ///

Bharath loads his gun and ran towards him..... 

Vikram blinked twice.. as if his brain doesn't want the present day chaos.... the eyes shut going back to the day after he had sensual yet the gentle sex with his love Mirna.. The day he took her Virginity and sealed the love..

[heygiwriter]

The lift of Vikram and mirna
Absolute best film at this point the perfect end of the film

Man truly amazing script


What every update you written in present itself like a novel or film screenings mi my mind

Thanks :)