[heygiwriter]

@heygiwriter

Dude. Brother... Machaaaa... for FKING GOD SAKEEEEEE3.. DONT MAKE THIS A SEX STORY ANYMORE.
Your story is so awesome and my imagination is so insane that I can literally imagine every word you mention... the background,  the characters,  the look, the lightings, the scene etc etc.. For me Vikram looks like the Hero from the series HIT : Third case and honestly I see this as one of the BEST SOUTH INDIAN movie story.
I mean every word when I say " This story is soo good that it doesn't requires a sex plot and cheating between mirna and vikram"

Let other female and male characters have sex , cheating,  bsd., voyeur etc etc... I am literally enjoying this story so much as if am watching or reading a good movie/novel..  your writing is as good as Sydney Sheldon"

Reading your stories is so so enjoyable that I cannot describe in just words. Your creative, elaborate and very detailed descriptive way of writing make me imagine and visualize every single word so deeply, that I dont just imagine, but start feeling as if am part of that story and experiencing the ongoing narration in 3rd person view. just love it..

Im glad you are able to travel along with characters... but read it with open mind. i believe you will enjoy even the cheating part.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 32: Who is Bharath?


The morning light filtered through the lodge window, soft and golden, painting the small room where Vikram and Mirna had spent their first night together. The rain had stopped, leaving only the scent of wet earth and the lingering smell of them — sweat, sex, her shampoo. 

Vikram woke first, his arm still dbangd over Mirna’s waist, her back curled against his chest. She was breathing slow and even, naked under the thin sheet, one leg tangled with his, one breast exposed in the loose fold of fabric, nipple soft and dark against her skin.

He watched her — awe, tenderness, and a slight panic flickering in his chest. She’s real. She’s mine. She stayed.

Mirna stirred, eyes fluttering open. She blinked at him, then looked down at their naked bodies, sheet barely covering her hips. A deep blush spread across her cheeks. She pulled the sheet up shyly, covering herself, but her smile was soft, shy, happy.

They had no intent of immediate sex — last night had been magic, and they just wanted to realize it, to feel it settle. They just cuddled — her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, his fingers tracing slow circles on her back.

The first "good morning" kiss came naturally — slow, sleepy, lips brushing, then parting, tongues touching gently. It deepened until they both pulled back, breathless, foreheads resting together, smiling like children who discovered something secret.

They got up — awkward at first. She wrapped the sheet around herself like a shield, he turned away to give her privacy, even though they’d been fully naked just hours ago. They laughed at the shyness — quiet, shared giggles.

Shower Time together!! Yes — hot but innocent. 

The small bathroom steamed up quickly. Water cascaded over them as they soaped each other’s backs — his hands gentle on her shoulders, hers tentative on his chest, tracing old scars and new bruises. 

Soap slipped, they laughed when it got in their eyes. First time seeing each other fully in daylight — her curves, his lean frame, the way water ran down her breasts, over her stomach, between her thighs. Their eyes met, melted, frequent kisses — lip to lip, hot, lingering, tongues dancing under the spray. No sex — just touch, exploration, closeness. They rinsed, dried each other slowly, towels lingering on skin, hands brushing sensitive places, breaths hitching.


The rain had stopped. The collapsed bridge was temporarily cleared by adding a rope bridge — villagers had worked through the night. They vacated the room, walked to the other end of the road, caught a bus, and reached their town in one hour.



After dropping their things, they walked to the temple — prayers whispered, hands clasped, heads bowed before the flame. A quiet promise before returning to the church.


Meanwhile, Aadharsh and Bharath had a fallout.

Bharath had helped Krish — quietly, efficiently — and Krish had gone back to Dubai with Swathi. Aadharsh now knew Bharath was his enemy. His hold on Sekaran’s network was gone. The enemies of Sekaran and Aadharsh had no other go but to stop their network for some time — years, perhaps. 


Aadharsh couldn’t crack Sekaran’s system, and as a result, enmity formed between Bharath and Aadharsh.

Aadharsh doesn't know it was Vikram who saved Sam, it was Vikram who was behind the Sekaran’s system..

In their office.. Mukesh — Aadharsh’s partner — sat across from him, cigarette burning low.

“Who is Bharath, is he that important?” Mukesh asked.

 “For your network to expand here? Into the dark market? 
Aadharsh nodded silently 


If so, do we have any weak points on him? What does our intel say?” So that we can press that to make him form an alliance with us..

Aadharsh leaned back, eyes hard. Yes we may have one..
Mukesh said just tell me the full story.. 

“About Bharath… I don’t know where to start. This guy is complex. But let me tell you in short.”

He exhaled smoke slowly.

“Bharath’s father runs a big empire . Bharath doesn’t eye money then he is like taking over fathers company is easy standing on own is what he visioned... Back in college, he loved a woman — Manya. She was his father’s friend’s daughter. Friend in the sense they went to the same college, but rank. Her father was just a managerial role in one sector of Bharath’s father’s empire holding company.”

“Bharath loved the cop job. He went on to become one. Another reason he doesn’t like his father’s empire — he wanted to stand on his own. The love continued. One day it came into the picture — both families were shocked. Manya’s father gave the green signal, trusting the friendship. Bharath’s father didn’t approve — for friendship’s sake, he left them and even arranged a marriage for Manya with one of his company employees.”


“Manya was shattered. Family pressure — she succumbed. So did Bharath. He couldn’t fight then. He was honest, a good person, loving, family-friendly. He absolutely had no wrong thoughts.”

“Bharath was forced into marriage the same week after Manya’s marriage. He married into a rich family and he absolutely hates her. Both families — the rich one he got into and his own — pressured him to leave the security officer job and come to take over the company, but he didn’t care. He didn’t have sex with her for long.” He always suspected his wife’s family for the marriage pressure as a reason he stayed away from her..

“At one point he realized it was his wife’s family that kept pushing things — which made him split from Manya. To revenge, he orchestrated a thing. Invited his colleague security officer into home. His security officer friend is unaware of the intention of Bharath.. He quickly befriend Bharath's wife. He initially planned to project his colleague and his wife into an affair by taking a few photos of their casual closeness. But to his surprise, the affair turned real.”

“He hated someone crossing his boundary… even though he hated his wife. He decided. He took pictures of affair and went to that colleague's home and managed the colleague’s wife to bed him for revenge, he let out his full aggression there on her.. that's when Bharath turned from good to something he is now. Bharath turning dark started there.”


“Soon he exposed her affair.. Family broken. Bharath’s father and mother were shocked — they didn’t know it was Bharath’s plan. Bharath liked the pain of them. He is deliberately involved in scam and dark business just to irritate them. What started as small… his network grew big. He has every intel, every move, and he is a great asset for connections. Him being a cop and linked to all resources is a great plus.”



Mukesh leaned forward. “Did he join with Manya?”

Aadharsh shook his head. “No. Manya did hate her husband, but over a year his love won her over. She truly started loving him. As a symbol of love, they had a kid — a boy. But… Manya’s husband got into an accident and she thinks it was Bharath or his family doing. But it was a genuine accident. Bharath never had the courage to meet her again.”



“Bharath’s father and mother now feel things could have been better if they married Bharath to Manya. Too late,” he said.




Mukesh asked, “What is Bharath doing now?”

Aadharsh said who knows? Right now he irritates us by helping Krish and my father.. An alliance with him is a question for now.



Cut to Calcutta//

Somewhere in Calcutta, the dim bedroom of a modest two-story house echoed with raw, animalistic cries that pierced the humid night air. The bed—a cheap wooden frame with a sagging mattress—creaked and groaned like it was on the verge of collapse, protesting under the relentless force of Bharath's assault. 

The woman beneath him, a curvaceous housewife in her late twenties named Priya, lay sprawled on her back, her floral-printed saree torn/disheveled and hiked up to her waist, the fabric torn at the seams from his impatient yanks. 

Her legs were splayed wide, thighs quivering, ankles hooked around Bharath's muscular back as he mounted her like a predator claiming its prey—hard, unforgiving, every thrust a punishing slam that drove her deeper into the sheets.

Bharath's body was a machine of aggression: sweat-slicked skin glistening under the single flickering bulb, his broad shoulders flexing as he gripped her hips with bruising force, fingernails digging into her soft flesh to hold her in place. He pounded into her with savage intensity, his thick cock—sheathed in a thin condom—plunging deep and withdrawing almost fully before ramming back in, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room like rhythmic thunder. 

Each thrust sent shockwaves through her body, her full breasts bouncing wildly beneath her unbuttoned blouse, nipples hard and erect from the mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure. The feel of him was brutal—his girth stretching her tight pussy to its limits, the friction raw and unyielding, every vein on his shaft dragging against her inner walls, forcing gasps and moans from her throat that bordered on screams.

"Oh no… coming… I’m coming… Bharath thanksssss…" Priya wailed, her voice breaking into a high-pitched sob as her orgasm ripped through her. Her back arched off the bed, toes curling, inner muscles clenching around him like a vice, milking his cock in desperate spasms. Juices slicked her thighs, soaking the sheets beneath them, the air thick with the musky scent of her arousal mixed with his sweat. 

But Bharath didn't slow—he growled low in his throat, thrusting even harder, deeper, his hips snapping forward with such force that the headboard banged against the wall, cracking the plaster.



Tied to a wooden chair in the corner, her husband—Raj, a scrawny office clerk in his thirties—watched in wide-eyed panic, his wrists and ankles bound with thick nylon thread that bit into his skin. His face was pale, sweat beading on his forehead, eyes darting between his wife's writhing form and the intruder who had burst into their home hours earlier. He strained against the restraints, muffled whimpers escaping the gag in his mouth, but he couldn't look away—forced to witness every degrading detail: the way Priya's hands clawed at Bharath's back, leaving red welts; the obscene squelch of their bodies colliding; the triumphant smirk on Bharath's face as he dominated her completely.



Raj’s only mistake was he crossed Bharath.. He disobeyed him not in duty but in deal..


Priya, lost in the haze of her climax, turned her head toward her husband, eyes glassy with lust. "You are 1000 times better than my husband… but why don’t you do without condoms.. Mr. Bharath?" she gasped, her voice hoarse, body still shuddering from aftershocks.


Bharath smirked, his rhythm never faltering—each thrust a deliberate act of conquest, his balls slapping against her ass with audible smacks. He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear, one hand wrapping around her throat just tight enough to make her gasp sharper, her pulse racing under his fingers. "Bitch, my skin touches only the persons I love," he snarled, squeezing her breast roughly, pinching the nipple until she yelped. Then, glancing at the bound husband with cold amusement, he added, "And this is what happens when you cross me—your wife screaming on my cock while you watch like the pathetic worm you are."


He drove into her one final time—harder than before, burying himself to the hilt, grinding against her clit until she convulsed again, another orgasm tearing through her, her cries echoing off the walls.

Bharath pulled out abruptly, ripping off the condom and stroking himself furiously over her stomach, ropes of hot cum splattering across her heaving breasts and belly, marking her as his in front of her helpless husband. 

The room fell silent except for Priya's ragged breaths and Raj's muffled sobs.


The visuals were extremely opposite to what Vikram had shared with Mirnaa—gentle, loving sex built on trust and tenderness. 



Bharath's was a storm of dominance, aggression, and calculated humiliation, leaving no room for mercy.




//Cut to Kerala

Mirna and Vikram arrived at the church. Everyone was silent.
The nun stood there.
Mirna asked, “What happened?”
Nun said, “Shiney arrived. She wanted to call off your marriage.”
Vikram puzzled. “Who is Shiney?”
Mirna’s tears rolled. “Call off marriage? Why?”


Nun struggled to answer…

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 33: Shiny Says  –Call of the Marriage!

The moment Mirna and Vikram stepped into the church compound, the air felt heavier than the humid evening. The usual calm—the soft chanting from the prayer hall, the laughter of children playing near the dormitory—was gone. A small knot of sisters and volunteers stood near the entrance, whispering urgently. 

The nun who had raised Mirna stood at the center, her face tight with worry, hands clasped so hard her knuckles were white.

Before Vikram could open his mouth, the nun turned to them.
“Shiney arrived,” she said quietly. “She wants to call off the marriage.”
Vikram blinked, confused. “Who is Shiney?”


Mirna’s hand flew to her mouth. Tears welled instantly. “Call off the marriage? Why?”


The words barely left her lips when the side door opened.
Shiney stepped out.

She was in her mid-twenties, tall and fair, with sharp, intelligent features that made people straighten when she entered a room. She wore a simple cream salwar kameez, hair pulled into a neat bun, a small gold cross gleaming at her throat. She was studying medicine—final-year MBBS, everyone said with pride—destined to be a doctor. 

But more than that, she had always been the protector here: the one who shielded the younger orphans from bullies, who scolded the boys when they misbehaved, who helped the nuns balance the kitchen ledger and organize medical camps. To Mirna, Shiney wasn’t just an elder sister by choice—she was the closest thing to a mother Mirna had ever known.


Shiney’s eyes locked on Mirna first—soft for a split second—then slid to Vikram.
 Slow. Cold. Assessing. No smile.

“Mirna,” she said, voice firm but not cruel. “Come inside. We need to talk.”

Mirna’s fingers tightened around Vikram’s. “Akka… whatever you want to say, say it in front of him.”
Shiney’s jaw clenched. She glanced at Vikram again—longer this time—then nodded once. “Fine. Let’s not waste time.”


They moved into the small prayer hall. The nun followed and closed the door softly. Shiney stood in front of the altar, arms crossed like a judge.
“I came as soon as I heard,” she began. “Mirna, you are not marrying this man.”
Mirna flinched as if slapped. “Akka… why?”


“Because he is not right for you,” Shiney said bluntly. “No stable job. No clear background. No family. No savings. He drifts from place to place. And there are security officer records against him—framed or not, the stain stays. People talk, Mirna. The church talks. What will they say about you? About us?”

Vikram stood silent, fists clenched at his sides. Every word cut deeper than the last.

Mirna shook her head, eyes wide and glistening. “But Akka… he is a good man. He has suffered so much. People framed him, but he never did anything wrong. Mohan Anna, the nun, even the security officer inspector—they all know the truth. He is alone like me, like us. And he loves me unconditionally, Akka. Truly.”


Shiney’s expression softened for a heartbeat—then hardened again.
“And that is exactly why I’m worried,” she said quietly. “You believe everything, Mirna. You always have. Someone shows you kindness once and you open your entire heart. You see only the good. You don’t see the danger. You don’t ask questions.”
Mirna opened her mouth, but Shiney continued gently.

“You believe the stories people tell you. You don’t ask for proof. You don’t check. Right?”

Mirna looked down. Her defense was shrinking. Her lower lip trembled.

Vikram watched her—really watched her—perhaps for the first time since their night in the lodge. She looked so small. So painfully innocent. The way her eyes darted between Shiney and him, the way she clutched the edge of her dupatta like a frightened child, the way her voice shook when she tried to defend him.

Shiney stepped closer, voice dropping to the gentle tone she used when Mirna was a little girl with scbangd knees.

Not everything you heard is true Mirnaa. There could be lies.

Do you know our old watchman had three wives before he came here? All orphans. He charmed them, took their money, then disappeared. Or the man who came last year claiming he was a doctor—targeting girls from church homes to sell their kidneys. He spoke so sweetly. Mirna, you believed him too. You wanted to help him. But did you know what he did after?”

Mirna dropped her face, cheeks burning. “Are you saying Vikram will be the same?”

Shiney laughed softly—kind, not mocking. “No, calm down. I won’t say that. But you believed those stories instantly. You didn’t ask questions. That’s how innocent you are. How naive. Your heart is still like a child’s—big, open, always siding with the one who looks hurt. You don’t ask. You just help.”



She inhaled deeply, eyes flicking to Vikram. I need to test him. Only after that i can say

Vikram please come with me
She dragged him into the room leaving Mirnaa out  
Doors locked. 

She Told him straight: I don’t know how you made her fall in love. She never showed any interest in any man or boy before.. Not just that she didn't even ask anything for her. This is the first time she asked something.. This has never happened before. I need to honor her wish.. 

I didnt get enough trust to handover her to you.. But if you want to marry her, stay here. Live under our eyes. Find a solid job. Drive the hospital ambulance, the church van—whatever. Until then, no marriage. I don’t trust you yet.”

Vikram was about to say something but he awaited Shiney to finish fully

She paused, letting the words sink in.

“I told him the watchman story—all lies, just to test. Even the doctor selling the kidney was lying  and Mirna believed it instantly. She didn’t ask back. She just looked scared. That’s how easily someone can twist her. A kind voice. A sad story. And she is on their side.”

Vikram watched her from the glass window. Mirna stared at the floor, tears falling silently.


She wasn’t just naive.
She was dangerously trusting.
Anyone with a kind voice and a sad story could manipulate her. Anyone.


Shiney spoke to Vikram.
“She’s aged in body, but her heart never grew up. The hurt from her family, the years here serving everyone—it made her this way. She wanted to be a nurse because she believes she can heal people. She fears henchmen, bad men, dirty links. Because she was affected twice.. When her family was taken by her fathers step brothers for money the very same henchmen and destroyed them. And one more henchman when she was 15 tried to molest her… A cop uncle saved her..  She used to say she’d marry a security officer officer—one who saves the world while she saves people. A perfect love story in her mind.”



Shiney’s voice softened further.

I don't know how she loved you.. Maybe it's just not the security officer, it's their heroic side. 

Speaking about which 

“I don’t know what you did to make her see that heroic side in you. Saving Swathi, taking beatings, protecting love even when it wasn’t yours… maybe that’s why she fell. But treasure her, Vikram. Because if you bring shadows—if anything dark touches her—she will break. And she will still try to forgive you.”




Vikram swallowed hard. For the first time, he knew exactly what he should do.

He opened his mouth.


“I love her and she loves me back. We trust each other and that’s enough. And I have a mechanical degree. I can drive cars. I can do enough work to support my little family—starting with Mirnaa. I listened and waited patiently because you seemed to be someone she trusted. But don’t take me for granted. And don’t try to control me—that’s only Mirnaa can do.”


The answer was enough for Shiney. He took responsibility for her with a sensible response, with self-respect, without hurting her—his intention clear: to honor the person who was affiliated with Mirnaa.

She was convinced. Vikram was right for her.

Shiney stepped back, looking at him.

“I know. Let’s go out. She is waiting. Let me declare my answer there and it’s up to you two.”
She came out.

“So we have decided. Vikram will stay here—under our eyes. When he finds a solid job, he can take her anywhere. For now, here. Until then, let him drive the hospital ambulance. Prove himself.”

Mirna still had questions in her eyes, but Shiney smiled gently.

“I won’t ask to call off the marriage… Your Vikram passed the test,” she said. “He didn’t argue. He didn’t run. He listened. And he responded with one sentence that convinced me he respects you, Mirnaa. That’s a start. And he is really out here to start the family—so I’m in.”


The hall—which had been completely silent—turned into a celebration space. A sudden clap rang out. Mirnaa’s sister had approved of him. Vikram smiled.


Shiney turned to Vikram and said, “Take care of her. Sorry if I crossed any line. See this as an opportunity for you to see for yourself how naive and innocent she is. Don’t break her. Don’t be hard on her. Be gentle and treat her like your elder kid than a wife.”


Vikram nodded—but deep inside he was resolute. He should never bring his side of behavior from when he was with Sekaran anna. With Shiney warnings of what Mirnaa hates (The Henchmen Job, Darker, bad man images)


Vikram looked at Mirna—small, trembling, trusting—and felt the weight of what Shiney had just revealed.

She was fragile in ways he hadn’t fully understood.
And now he knew: anyone could break her.

Including him.
Including someone far worse.
He should treasure and protect her.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 34: Invitations & Shadows


“Akka… thank you… thank you…” she whispered, voice muffled and trembling.
Shiney hugged her back tightly, stroking her hair like she did when Mirna was small. Then she pulled back, cupped Mirna’s face, and smiled—soft, apologetic.


“I lied to you, kanna,” she said gently. “The watchman story, the doctor story—all made up. I was just testing him. And testing you. I needed to see how naive you really are… how easily someone could twist your heart. And I needed to see if he would break under pressure or stand firm.”


Mirna blinked, eyes wide. Then she laughed—a small, shaky sound—and hugged Shiney again.

“You scared me so much…”

“I know. I’m sorry. But now I know he’s worthy of you. And you… you stay this innocent, this trusting. Just make sure it’s always with someone who deserves it.”
Mirna nodded, eyes shining. She turned to Vikram.


The hall erupted in soft claps and smiles from the sisters and volunteers. The tension dissolved like mist in the morning sun.


The marriage date was set—three weeks away. Simple. In the church temple. Just family, friends from the orphanage, and a few from Chennai. Nothing grand. Just love.
That evening, Shiney pulled Vikram aside.


“I have a driver role at my hospital,” she said. “Ambulance runs, patient pickups. Steady pay. You can start tomorrow. It’ll help you prove yourself faster.”
Vikram shook his head gently.

“Thank you, Shiney. But I’ll pursue that after the marriage. I want to give Mirnaa a proper start—no rush, no pressure. And I have some friends in Chennai I need to invite. I’ll handle it myself.”


Shiney studied him for a moment, then nodded.

“Fair enough. But don’t take too long. She deserves stability.”
Vikram smiled. “I know.”


The next morning he excused himself from the church group. He printed ten simple invitation cards on the small computer in the office—plain white, gold lettering, the date and time in neat Tamil and English. He folded them carefully, slipped them into his pocket, and caught the evening train to Chennai.


The journey was quiet. He stared out the window, Mirna’s face in his mind—her shy smile, her trusting eyes. He felt a fierce protectiveness settle in his chest. I won’t let anyone break her. Not even me.


Chennai Central was noisy, crowded. He went straight to Mohan’s old mansion—the place that had once been his refuge.
Mohan opened the door, eyes widening.
“Vikram!”

Vikram pulled out an invitation and handed it over.
Mohan read it, then looked up, eyes misty.
“You’re really doing this. I'm happy.. ”


“I am. I want you there. Ramesh and Suresh too.”
Mohan hugged him—careful of old bruises that were mostly healed now.
“They’ll be there. We all will.”


Later, Ramesh and Suresh arrived. They laughed, teased him about finally finding someone who could handle his stubbornness. They just warned them to be careful and don't allow anyone to take control of his life..  They promised to come, bring gifts, and make noise.


Then the phone rang.
Sekaran.

Vikram answered on the first ring.

“Boy,” Sekaran’s voice was warm, fatherly, tired. “Mohan told me. Marriage, eh?”
“Yes, sir. In three weeks. Kerala. Church.”

A long pause.

“I’m happy for you. Truly. Live a good life. Don’t come back to this space again. It’s not for you anymore.”

Vikram swallowed. “Sir”


“I’ll send some cash through Mohan. Start fresh. Buy a small place, something for her. No debts. No favors. Just be a husband. A father someday.”

Vikram’s throat tightened. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You earned it. Now go. And Vikram… stay clean. For her.”


The call ended. Vikram stared at the phone, feeling the weight lift—and a new weight settled. No more shadows.

Next, he dialed Swathi.
She picked up instantly.
“Vikram?”

First time in months. Her voice was soft, surprised, warm.
“I’m getting married,” he said simply. “Three weeks. Kerala. I want you and Krish there.”

A beat of silence. Then a soft laugh—happy, relieved.


“We’ll be there. Send the invite. And Vikram… thank you. For everything. Come to the house tonight. Krish wants to see you.”


He went.

Swathi opened the door—elegant in a simple silk saree, eyes bright. Krish stood behind her, smiling.


They hugged him—tight, grateful. Swathi’s eyes were wet.

“You sacrificed so much for us. We never forgot.”
Krish handed him a drink. “We’re coming. With a surprise.”


Then Krish’s face turned serious.
“Right time. Let’s meet Swathi’s father. We need to introduce you properly.”
Vikram frowned. “Why me?”

“Because you saved her twice. Because you’re family now. Also because you drove Sekaran for 3 years, you have been close with him.. Come, you will know more there..”

They drove to the politician’s bungalow.

Ramanathan waited in the study—older, wearier, but still commanding. Beside him stood Bharath.

The air shifted the moment Vikram entered.


Bharath’s eyes met Vikram’s. Recognition. No words. Just a long, hard look.
They had never spoken, but they knew each other—from the station beatings, from the warehouse rescue, from shadows they both carried.


Ramanathan spoke first.
“You’re the driver.”
Vikram nodded.

“You saved my daughter. Twice.”
Vikram stayed silent.

Bharath stepped forward. Extended his hand.

Vikram took it. Firm. Hard. Neither flinched.

For a second their grips tightened—like two men measuring each other’s strength.

Then they released.

The conversation turned to business.


Aadharsh’s network was crumbling—Sekaran’s new system had humiliated him. But the mind behind Sekaran’s empire was still unknown. They were hunting.


Vikram listened quietly. In his mind, Mirna’s face appeared—soft, trusting, innocent.


No. We left this place for good. We should not enter again.
He diluted himself into thoughts and retired before they finished.


Bharath followed him outside.
They stood under the night sky, wind cool.
“You don’t seem like an ordinary driver,” Bharath said quietly.
Vikram lit a cigarette. Offered one.
Bharath took it. Lit it.


“If you ever have intel on who that sharp mind is… let me know.”
Vikram exhaled smoke.

“I just drive the wheel. I have no idea.”
Both smiled—knowing smiles. Small. Dangerous.
Bharath pulled out a card.

“Any help, call me. Consider me a friend.”
Vikram took it. Didn’t flinch.

He left that night—train back to Kerala.

With his trunk suitcase he brought it from his village.. His finger traced it, the scratch sound said how far his journey has been,


In his pocket: the card, the invites, and a quiet resolve.
No shadows. Not for her.

But deep down, he knew:

Shadows have a way of following.
Especially when someone like Bharath is watching.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 35: The Wedding Day, the Thali from today & The Ring from past



The wedding day arrived like a quiet promise kept.

The small temple near the town was bathed in the soft glow of oil lamps and marigold garlands. No grand mandap, no loud music—just the sacred hum of mantras, the scent of sandalwood and jasmine, and a handful of people who mattered.

Mirna stood in a simple white silk saree with a thin gold border, her hair adorned with fresh jasmine, eyes shining with nervous joy. Vikram wore a crisp white veshti and shirt. Shiney stood beside Mirna like a proud mother, eyes misty as she adjusted the pallu one last time.

When the priest asked Vikram to tie the thali, the hall fell completely silent.


Vikram lifted the gold chain—simple, unadorned, the way Mirna had wanted it. His hands trembled slightly as he fastened it around her neck, the mangalsutra settling between her breasts like a seal of forever.


He looked into her eyes.

She looked back—trusting, open, completely his.


The priest blessed them. The small crowd clapped softly.

Vikram pulled her into a gentle hug. She buried her face in his chest, arms wrapping around him tightly. Everyone knew the struggle they had survived—framing, beatings, doubt, tests. This moment felt earned.


Evening brought the reception in the church-affiliated marriage hall—a simple open space with plastic chairs, paper decorations, and a long table of home-cooked food: sambar, rasam, poriyal, payasam.


Local people came. Church friends. The old constable who had vouched for Vikram at the medical camp. Mohan arrived with Ramesh and Suresh, who teased him mercilessly about finally “settling down.” Everyone glowed with happiness. Mirna smiled shyly beside Vikram, her hand in his, the thali gleaming under the lights.

Then Krish and Swathi arrived.

They walked in quietly—Swathi in a deep maroon saree, Krish in a neat shirt. The room hushed for a second.
Swathi went straight to the couple, eyes bright with emotion. Krish stood beside her, smiling.

She pulled out an envelope.
“Fifty lakhs,” she said softly. “It’s nothing compared to what you did for us. Twice.”
Vikram’s eyes widened. “Swathi… no.”

Mirna looked at the cheque, then at Vikram, uncertain.

Swathi took Mirna’s hand and pressed the envelope into it.

“We know Vikram won’t take it for himself,” she said. “He’s starting fresh—no more old life. Consider this a token. An investment. Start a business. Whenever you can pay us back, fine. If not… we’re okay.”

Mirna tried to hand it back. “We can’t—”
Vikram stopped her gently.
He looked at Swathi and Krish.

“I’ll pay it back,” he said quietly. “I was wondering how to start something solid. No more driver jobs. I need to take care of her properly. Thank you.”

Krish stepped forward and hugged him—tight, brotherly.

Swathi hugged Mirna, whispering something that made Mirna smile through tears.

Then Mohan arrived.
He carried a small envelope and a sealed letter.


“Sekaran anna’s gift,” he said. “A blank cheque. Whatever amount you need—fill it. He called you his unsaid son. Said to start fresh. No debts. No favors. Just live.”



Mohan handed the letter to Vikram.


Vikram opened it. The words were simple, fatherly:
Boy,
You earned this life. Take it. Don’t look back.
Sekaran



Mirna watched Vikram read it. Her eyes filled with wonder.


This man I chose… so many people love him. He must be so pure, she thought.
The night deepened.

Their small room in the church dormitory was lit by a single lamp. The bed was simple, sheets fresh. Mirna stood shyly in her nightdress, thali still around her neck.

Vikram pulled her close.
No rush. No harshness.

He kissed her slowly—lips, cheeks, forehead. His hands were gentle, tracing her back, her arms, her waist. They moved to the bed together.


Missionary—soft, loving. He entered her carefully, watching her face for any discomfort. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, but everything stayed tender. 


Slow thrusts, whispered “I love you”s, her fingers in his hair. When they came, it was quiet, shared, intimate.


She fell asleep in his arms, breathing even, thali resting between her breasts.


Vikram stayed awake.

He looked at her—peaceful, beautiful, his wife.
His eyes drifted to the table.

The two cheques lay there—Swathi’s 50 lakhs, Sekaran’s blank one.
He stood quietly, picked them up. The fan was blowing hard—he didn’t want them to fly away.
He opened the trunk suitcase to tuck them inside.


That’s when he saw it.
The ring.

The small gold ring Malar had given him after the first betrayal—after she framed him, used him, left him broken.


The memory he had buried forever came rushing back on his first night as a husband.
He stared at it.

Then at Mirna—sleeping, trusting, innocent.
He closed the suitcase.
Locked it.

And slipped back into bed beside her.
But the ring stayed in his mind.
the scare is still there and he didnt forget.. 

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 36: A New Beginning in Chennai 


One week after the wedding, the Kerala air still clung to their clothes like a soft goodbye.



They boarded the overnight bus to Chennai—Mirna’s hand in Vikram’s, fingers laced the entire journey. Shiney had seen them off at the bus stand, hugging Mirna tightly, whispering, “He’s proven himself. Now go build something real.” She knew about the cheques—the 50 lakhs from Swathi & Krish, the blank one from Sekaran. Enough to survive, enough to start fresh. Enough to never worry about rent again if they chose.


But Vikram had other plans.


They reached Chennai at dawn. The city woke around them—honking autos, street vendors lighting stoves, the faint smell of filter coffee cutting through the dust.


Mohan waited at the bus stand, grin wide. He drove them to a small rented house nearby—simple walls, tin roof, one bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and a front veranda just big enough for two plastic chairs. Rent: 5500 rupees a month.

They stepped inside. Bags dropped. Silence settled.

Mirna looked around—the bare bulb, the cracked tile floor, the single window letting in morning light—and smiled.
“It’s ours,” she said softly.
Vikram pulled her close, kissed her forehead.
“Ours.”


He refused to touch the cheques.


“Not yet,” he told Mirna that first night, lying on the thin mattress they’d bought second-hand. “I want to build something first. Something honest. No shortcuts.”


She nodded, trusting him completely. “Whatever you decide.”

Friends rallied fast.


Mohan, Ramesh, Suresh—they came with advice, contacts, and laughter. Vikram took odd jobs to keep the rent paid: driving a rented van for spice wholesalers, helping set up decorations at marriage halls, even waiting tables at a small hotel near the bus stand. His back ached after long days, but he never complained. Every rupee went into a small tin box labeled “Our Future.”


Mirna found work at a nearby hospital—nursing shifts, modest pay, but steady. She came home with stories of patients she’d comforted, wounds she’d bandaged, children she’d made smile. Vikram listened every night, proud, falling more in love with her quiet strength.
Their sex life was great—gentle, loving, always on her terms.


Every night they came together in the dim room, bodies moving in familiar tenderness. Missionary mostly—slow, deep, eyes locked. Vikram kissed her softly, hands caressing her breasts, her waist, her thighs. He entered her carefully, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. She sighed happily, legs wrapping around him, pulling him closer, whispering “I love you” against his neck. 


She came easily—small shivers, soft moans, her nails lightly scratching his back. He followed soon after, spilling inside her with a quiet groan, holding her tight as they drifted off.


For Mirna, it was perfect. Safe. Loved.

For Vikram… it was beautiful, but incomplete.
The ring haunted him.


Late at night, after she fell asleep, he would stare at her peaceful face—the thali resting between her breasts—and the old gold ring from Malar would flash in his mind. Then Malar’s mocking smile overlaid Mirna’s features. Malavika’s teasing laugh echoed in his ears. In those moments, a dark heat rose inside him—rage, possession, the need to claim, to punish, to unleash.


Sometimes, mid-thrust, the vision came sharp.

He would speed up suddenly—harder, faster, hips snapping with an edge he couldn’t control. Mirna would flinch, a small gasp of discomfort escaping her lips, her body tensing under him.


He’d panic instantly.


“Sorry… sorry…” he’d whisper, slowing immediately, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, murmuring apologies until she relaxed again, smiling sleepily. “It’s okay… I love you…”


She never questioned it. She was easily satisfied with his gentleness.
But Vikram knew the truth.
He was holding back. Always.


He was tired of it—tired of the restraint, tired of the fear that if he let go even a little, he might hurt her. He never opened up fully in bed with Mirna. Never showed her the raw, hungry side that still lived inside him from years of betrayal and survival.
She didn’t need it./ she didn’t want it.


And so he kept it locked away. He always feared if she knew this side of roughness will she doubt him? And to make it worse , she doesn't know how he planned to take Malavika once.. No one elaborated about it so far.. That remains a secret.. 

Vikram is just scared of the after effects of her knowing.. So he maintained the gentle sex in meter to show himself better.. A stupidity but it was what he had been doing..


Two months in, opportunity knocked.


A small electronics shop down the road—fans, bulbs, cheap radios, wires—was struggling. The owner, an older man tired of losses, offered to transfer it to Vikram for half price: 25 lakhs upfront.
Vikram stared at the shop for a long time.
Then he went home, opened the suitcase, took out Swathi’s cheque, filled in 25 lakhs.
Mirna watched him, eyes wide but steady.



“You’re sure?” she asked.
“I am,” he said. “This is how we start.”
He paid. Took ownership.
The shop buzzed from day one.


Vikram gave unbelievable offers—discounts no one else matched, free installation for fans, bundle deals on bulbs and extension cords. Word spread fast. Ramesh quit his job in Coimbatore and joined. Suresh followed soon after.
They collaborated with local companies for bulk stock, put up small ads in newspapers, and handed out notices at bus stops. Customers crowded in—families buying their first mixer grinder, students needing cheap radios, old men replacing ceiling fans. The shop doubled revenue in three months.


Swathi and Krish came to open the second branch—another small space two streets away. They arrived with flowers, smiles, and quiet pride.
Vikram handed Swathi a cheque—30 lakhs.


“I used 25,” he said. “This 5 is interest. I’ll pay the rest as we grow.”
Swathi stared at it, then at him.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
Krish hugged him. “You’re family now.”


The electronics business tripled.

Vikram sank profits into two more locations, then branched into inverters and solar lights. Within a year, twenty stores bore his name across Chennai suburbs. Cash flowed steady. Krish stepped in as a trusted investor—guiding finances, opening doors to suppliers.

Vikram and Mirna shifted to much bigger house in the hot spot of Chennai. but still rental



One day, Krish handed over his entire Chennai financial concern—loans, investments, quick-turn schemes.


“You’re my silent 50%,” he said, voice rough with trust. “Run it.”
Vikram built an online system—every rupee tracked, funneled to Krish first, released back only with his approval. But month after month, Krish waved it off.
“Keep it,” he said finally. “It’s yours. I trust you.”

Krish and Swathi left for Dubai—his original home calling after years chasing her here.

Mirna stayed at the hospital, nursing for the solace it brought. She never asked for more. She came home tired but happy, cooked simple meals, listened to Vikram’s day, rested her head on his chest at night.


They had built something real.

Humble roots. Hard work. Love that didn’t demand.

The only thing that bothers him is the vision of Malar and Malavika frequently coming and he has been controlling his urge.. His self.. 

He didn't know his controlling sexual urge was never needed anymore the next day....

He slept ..



NEXT DAY


When Vikram posted a recruitment notice for manager positions for their 22nd branch, Mohan called him that same evening.

“Someone applied,” Mohan said. “Looks good on paper. Have a look at the applicants.”

Vikram’s eyes widened when he saw the name on the shortlist.

The name that hints at the past… the past was circling back.

Whether it would bring the worst… or something else entirely… only time would tell.


For now it brings a smirk on Vikram’s face..

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 37: Revenge 1 Completed - Vikram fucks Malavika


The 22nd branch of his Electronics was set to open in a bustling Chennai suburb, and the recruitment notice had drawn a flood of applicants. 

Vikram sat in the small office at the back of his first shop, flipping through resumes, when Mohan called.

“I shortlisted a few for manager,” Mohan said. “One couple applied together—experienced in sales. Have a look.”
Vikram opened the file.
His blood ran cold.
Malavika.
Kaushik.

The names stared back at him like ghosts from a nightmare he thought he’d buried.
Mohan saw the names on the shared screen and his face turned serious.

“Vikram… I didn’t realize they were from the past. Don’t do this. You’ve built a peaceful life. Mirnaa. The shops. Don’t disrupt it for them.”
Vikram’s jaw tightened. The ring flashed in his mind—Malar’s betrayal, but Malavika’s had cut deeper. Her affair with Kaushik, framing him, ruining his job, his trust.

“I need to see them,” he said quietly. “Just… see.”
Mohan shook his head. “No, I won’t allow it.”
Vikram’s voice dropped. “It’s me who received the hurt.”
Mohan exhaled heavily. “It may be fun or revenge for you… but when it asks back, it’ll be costly. Be careful.”


The interview was set for that afternoon.
Malavika and Kaushik were surprised when the peon said both could go in.
Malavika walked in first—still beautiful, sharp eyes, tight blouse hugging her curves, saree dbangd low on her hips. Kaushik followed—older now, forty-plus, lines on his face, but the same arrogant tilt to his chin.


They froze when they saw Vikram behind the desk.
Malavika’s face paled. “You…”
Kaushik shifted uneasily. “This is a mistake.”
Vikram leaned back, smile cold.
“Sit.”

They didn’t move.
Malavika’s eyes narrowed. “We won’t find work here. Let’s go, Kaushik.”
She turned for the door.
Vikram’s voice stopped her.
“I’ll offer you the job. Both of you. Manager positions. Good pay.”



They turned slowly.
Kaushik frowned. “Why?”


Vikram asked back, “Why do you need this job? Why have you applied?”
Kaushik exhaled, defeated. “Better pay. Financial difficulties—court fees, maintenance to my first wife, 10K every month. We have a kid now. Struggling to stay together. This job… it’s our last hope.”


Vikram smiled faintly. “That’s the same reason I’m hiring.”
Kaushik looked surprised. “Glad you don’t hold anything against us. We’ve been searching together for months. Low pays, rejections. I’m sorry… we paid for what we did to you.”
Vikram’s eyes locked on Malavika.
“Won’t you sit, Malavika?”
She sat—slowly, wary.

Vikram continued. “What’s your expected pay?”
Malavika answered quickly. “If there’s only one managerial position, give it to one of us. 30K is fine. And you can take the other for any vacant position. We both need 50K monthly.”
Vikram nodded. “I can’t give the manager position to both. I can give you supervisor of stock behind the company at 25K, and Malavika sales head at 20K.”
Kaushik jumped. “That’s enough.”

Vikram asked, “Why do you need 50K?”
Kaushik looked down. “I have a loan of 3 lakhs—10K EMI. Maintenance 10K. House rent 15K. Kid expenses, other bills 10K. 5K savings, maybe.”



Vikram leaned forward.
“You said something like you’re paying for what you did to me.”
Kaushik put his face down.
Vikram continued. “Think your burdens are no more. You both need to start fresh—without lies, without manipulations, without framing, without secrets. Just start that from tomorrow.”

Malavika and Kaushik looked up, stunned.
“Sure,” they said together.
Vikram stressed, “If you can promise… I can give you 4 lakhs right away. Settle the 3-lakh loan, buy good clothes for both of you, take care of the kid.”


Malavika’s eyes filled. “We promise. Thank you… thank you…”
Vikram wrote the cheque for 4 lakhs and placed it on the table.
“But,” he said quietly, “under one condition.”

The rage boiled inside him—years of humiliation, the framing, the laughter behind his back. He wanted revenge. Now.
Malavika crossed her arms, breasts rising with the motion. “What condition?”
Vikram stood.
“Follow me.”

They drove in silence—Vikram’s car to the old house, the place where it all started. Where Vikram was framed.
Inside the empty bedroom—dusty sheets, dim light—Vikram turned.


Kaushik sensed it first. “What is this?”
Vikram asked if he had any nylon rope.
Kaushik, trembling, found one in a drawer and handed it over.
“Tie him to the chair.”
Malavika’s eyes widened. “No.”


“Do it,” Vikram said, voice low and dangerous. “Or no job. No money.”
Kaushik realized. “What we did was wrong. Asking my wife for this is immoral.”
Vikram’s eyes flashed. “Framing me was immoral. Punishing me was immoral. Let’s forget everything. I need her today. Once I’m done, the job is yours. The cash is yours.”
He placed the cheque on the table.

Malavika recalled Vikrams statement “. You both need to start fresh—without lies, without manipulations, without framing, without secrets. Just start that from tomorrow.” and asked why you said this when you were gonna force us this way..

Vikram laughed.. Yes , you both need to start fresh.. With me in a new relationship, i have not manipulated you its straight deal and without framing, I have not framed you too. Without secrets, we wont have any secrets, he will know when i had sex with you. The only difference is when I said I want you to start tomorrow but it came early today…


Malavika, resolute, tied Kaushik to the chair—wrists, ankles—her hands shaking.
Kaushik struggled. “Don’t do this.”


Vikram ignored him. His eyes were on Malavika.
“Undress.”

She hesitated—then obeyed. Saree slipped to the floor, blouse unbuttoned, bra unhooked. Her body was fuller now—breasts heavy, hips wider from motherhood, but still the curves that had haunted him.


Vikram pushed her onto the bed.
No gentleness here.
He unleashed.


He grabbed her wrists, pinned them above her head with one iron grip. His free hand yanked her panties aside, fingers plunging into her—two at first, thrusting hard, scissoring to stretch her open. She gasped, body arching involuntarily, wetness betraying her despite the fear.


“You framed me,” he snarled, mouth crashing onto her neck—biting hard, sucking bruises into her skin. “Ruined everything.”

She moaned—pain and unwanted pleasure mixing. “Vikram… please…”

He flipped her onto her stomach—ass up, face down. Slapped her cheeks hard—red welts blooming instantly. Again. Harder. She yelped, body jolting.


Kaushik watched, horrified. “Stop!”
Vikram ignored him. He freed his cock—thick, veined, raging hard. No condom. He rammed into her from behind—deep, brutal, hips slamming against her ass with skin-slapping force. Each thrust was vengeance—stretching her pussy wide, filling her completely, balls smacking her clit like punishment.

She screamed—clenching around him, body betraying her fully. “Oh god… it hurts… don’t stop…”



He obliged. Pulled her hair, arching her back like a bow. Thrust faster, deeper, hand wrapping around her throat—squeezing just enough to make her gasp ragged, pulse racing under his fingers.

“You used me like a fool,” he growled, pounding relentlessly, sweat dripping onto her back. “Now feel this.”

Her orgasm hit like a storm—walls spasming around him, juices squirting onto the sheets, a high wail escaping her throat.


He didn’t stop. Flipped her over—legs over his shoulders, driving in again. Missionary, but savage—grinding against her clit with every brutal slam, hand pinching her nipples hard, twisting until she cried out.


Kaushik sobbed. “Please…”


Vikram came with a primal roar—deep inside her, hot ropes flooding her pussy, spilling out as he thrust through it, marking her completely.
Malavika lay spent—body trembling, marked with bites, welts, cum leaking from her swollen folds.


Minutes later, Vikram caught his breath. Pulled up his pants.
“Call Suresh,” he said coldly.
Malavika’s eyes widened, hoarse. “Why?”
“Do it.”

She dialed with trembling hands.
Suresh arrived—confused at first, then furious when he saw Kaushik tied, Malavika naked on the bed.
Vikram nodded to the bed.
“Fuck her.”


Suresh didn’t hesitate. The old betrayal burned fresh.
He mounted her—rough, fast, thrusting deep while she moaned again, body responding despite exhaustion. Kaushik watched, utterly broken, tears streaming.
Revenge complete.


Vikram walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower.
The rage still burned deep.
He hit the tiled wall—once, twice, three times, four—fist splitting open, blood mixing with water. The pain grounded him. Cleared his head.
When he came out, towel around his waist, Malavika was curled on the bed, broken. Suresh had left without a word.

Vikram dressed slowly.
He looked at her.
“I sent an email confirming your position,” he said quietly. “Monthly twice.”
He winked—cold, final.

He untied Kaushik.
Kaushik slumped, sobbing.
Vikram looked down at him.

“I’m not this type,” he said. “You guys changed me.”
Outside, he breathed deep.
The past was done.
Or so he thought.

Maybe he had just found one body to unleash his heat on—while staying gentle with Mirnaa.
The smirk from the applicant notice returned—but darker now.
He didn’t know yet how much more was coming.


But for the first time in years, the rage felt… satisfied.
At least for tonight. 

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 38: The Affair and the Guilt


Vikram returned home that evening with the taste of revenge still bitter on his tongue.

The rented house was quiet—tin roof ticking in the cooling dusk, a single bulb glowing in the kitchen. Mirna was stirring something simple on the stove—dal and rice, the smell warm and familiar. She turned when the door opened, smile brightening her face.

Then she saw his hand.

Bruised knuckles, split skin, dried blood crusting the edges.
Her eyes widened. “Vikram… what happened?”
He forced a calm smile, flexing his fingers as if it didn’t hurt.


“Old man at the shop got locked in the storage room. Panicked, tried to break the door. I helped him out—hand got caught. Nothing serious.”

Mirna hurried over, worry creasing her forehead. She took his hand gently, turning it under the light.
“Sit,” she said softly.

He sat at the small table. She fetched the first-aid box—cotton, antiseptic, bandage—and knelt between his knees.
She blew cool air over the cuts first—soft puffs, like soothing a child. Then she dabbed antiseptic carefully, wincing when he hissed.


“Sorry…” she whispered.

Her eyes filled with tears—small, quick ones that didn’t fall.

Vikram’s chest tightened.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice rough. “Really.”

She leaned in and kissed the worst knuckle—soft lips on raw skin. Then another. Then his palm.

He pulled her up gently, kissed her forehead—lingering, guilty.
“I love you,” he murmured.

She smiled through the tears. “I love you too.”
But the guilt built like a slow tide.

He feared what would happen if she ever knew the real story.
Knew the dark side he’d unleashed that day.
Knew he could be brutal.


That night, he didn’t touch her.
Nor the next.
For almost a week, he held back—claiming tiredness from the shop, long hours, new branch stress.



Mirna never pushed. She curled into him each night, head on his chest, trusting him completely.
On the seventh night, he couldn’t wait any longer.
He kissed her slowly—lips gentle, hands careful. They moved to the bed, clothes slipping off in familiar rhythm.
Missionary again—slow, deep, eyes locked.


He was extra careful—watching every flinch, every sigh, slowing when she tensed even slightly. Overcompensating.
Mirna noticed the difference—his restraint felt almost reverent.


She cupped his face. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, kissed her deeper—sealing lip to lip, tongues soft, bodies moving in quiet harmony.


She came with a soft cry, clinging to him.

He followed—quiet, controlled, spilling inside her.
They lay entwined after, breathing together.
She trusted him blindly.
He hated himself for it.

Meanwhile, the electronics shops thrived.
Monthly twice—Malavika came.

Always in the back room of the first shop, after hours.

Vikram was brutal with her—slamming her against shelves, bending her over crates, hand around her throat, slapping her ass red, fucking her hard and fast until she begged. These days mostly in condoms. No mercy. She took it—moaning, crying out, body responding even when tears fell.

Afterward, they talked—old stories spilling out.


Malavika admitted quietly one night, lying spent beside him:

“I knew you touched my breast that day in the theatre. I felt it. But I was scared… scared of losing a good friend, scared of losing everything. So I avoided you. Then Kaushik… he pushed me to frame you. I went along.”

Vikram stared at the ceiling.

They formed a strange bond—enemies turned secret lovers, guilt and lust twisted together.

But over time, Vikram told her:

“I’ll leave this soon. It’s not forever.”

Malavika laughed softly. “Nothing like that. You need to open to her slowly. Train her. You both speak. When you can speak to me about sex, why not with her? If she says no, then stop. If not… you still have ways. But not even trying is…”

Vikram understood. “Then soon, let’s stop our affair.”

Malavika nodded—resigned, with relief.


Money came from all corners.

Krish wanted to discuss secret money and some agency work—which needed a safe place. So Vikram decided to build himself a place.


That is when Vikram decided to build a new house.

A beach house—sleek glass walls, open to the sea, cars gleaming in the drive. But it had a secret: it was monitored with CCTV cameras hidden everywhere, as the house was going to be a place where secret money would be hidden. A store room no one could see—from where monitors displayed all visuals.

It took another six months to complete the house.

Shops multiplied—branches in every suburb, then districts beyond Chennai.

He never asked Mirna to quit nursing. He valued her work, her quiet strength, the way she came home smelling faintly of antiseptic and kindness.

Their life held its rhythm—love talks in the dark, arms entwined, simple dinners, shared laughter.
Only now spiced with new flavors.
They came to the new house…

Vikram finally decided to open sex to her slowly.
In their bed, kinks bloomed—nothing dark, just different.

New positions murmured in the dark—her on top, shy at first, then bolder; him behind her, hands gentle on her hips; her in lace or silk slipping over her curves, giggling as he peeled it off slowly.

He pulled up videos on his phone—soft, sensual ones—showing her angles, touches, ways to move.
Her shy giggles turned to bold lessons as they explored—her riding him slowly, learning how to grind, how to take control for a moment before he flipped her and took over again.

The intimacy deepened—a private dance of trust and heat.

Though it opened her to new shyness, they lost themselves in it—lovers still, unaware of the seeds it planted for later.

Nothing hard sex, but everything in a gentle way, slowly—but Mirnaa knows.



Money’s weight crept into Vikram then.

His humbleness frayed as Krish and Swathi settled in Dubai, full access to cash and power swelling his stride.

He didn’t see the change—thought himself the same—but a distance grew in his gaze, a hardness stirring beneath.

He slowly planned about returning to the dark network but he at times stopped for Mirnaa. His max was money hiding through Krish.

And in the quiet moments—when Mirna slept, thali resting between her breasts—Vikram sometimes stared at the ceiling.

The ring still sat in the suitcase.

The past was buried.

But buried things have a way of rising.
Especially when the revenge card is still open… Malar.

[heygiwriter]

Images uploaded in first post

[heygiwriter]

Question: Should I add AI-generated images? I couldn’t find exact references, and AI tends to change or “tune” the images.

But let me hear your thoughts—do you think images are needed, or should I just continue the story with out image?


For some people, images might break the mood. If they already have their own vision of the characters, seeing different visuals could be a turn-off for them.

[heygiwriter]

Quick Story Recap 

Overall Narrative Frame


The story opens in the present day. Vikram saves someone in a high-stakes moment, racing ahead of Bharath, only to witness the closeness between Bharath and Mirnaa. An attack leaves his eyes blank—triggering a 20-year flashback through his betrayals, pain, pleasure, rise, and fall. The story weaves between past and present,


Chapter 1 – Flashback Trigger

Present day: Vikram saves a life but sees Bharath and Mirnaa too close. An attack blanks his vision—pulling him back 20 years to relive his betrayals.

Chapters 2–5 – First Betrayal (Village Life)

Vikram’s early struggles: orphan, raised by uncle-aunt. Deep love for their daughter Malar. Excellent in college and college. But Malar is secretly sleeping with rival Vicky. She frames Vikram for theft to side with Vicky—first major betrayal. Vikram is thrown out of the village, heartbroken and alone.


Chapters 6–9 – Chennai & Second Betrayal

Chennai offers hope: new friends (Ramesh, Suresh), fatherly Mohan. Life stabilizes. Suresh’s girlfriend Malavika gets Vikram a job. He develops feelings and sexual tension toward her. But he catches her cheating with manager Kaushik. They frame Vikram as a molester—second betrayal. Everyone (including Suresh) abandons him. Back to zero.


Chapters 10–12 – Rise with Sekaran

A bigshot (Sekaran) trusts him, gives him a chance. Vikram becomes driver by day, silent orchestrator of Sekaran’s network by night. No one knows his real role. Sekaran becomes mentor/father figure.


Chapters 13–14 – Sekaran’s Exit

Sekaran’s son Aadharsh started an alliance with Sekarans enemey. Sekaran decides to retire and move to USA with his daughter—leaving Vikram alone again.


Chapters 15–19 – Swathi & Krish Drama

Sekaran refers Vikram to another politician. He becomes driver to Swathi (politician’s daughter-in-law). Swathi is having an affair with gangster Krish. Vikram helps her escape her gay husband—takes beatings for it. Bharath rescues him once (soft link). But no one truly cares; he’s dumped wounded on the street.

Chapters 20–25 – Mirnaa – The Angel

Vikram collapses on the road, rescued by nurse Mirnaa—first woman to show him selfless mercy. She learns his past, falls for his goodness/heroism. They slowly fall in love—pure, tender, healing. She becomes his light after years of darkness.


Chapters 26–31 – Marriage & First Intimacy

Love blossoms. Vikram finishes one last dark job for Sekaran to “come clean” before proposing. He proposes, overcomes challenges (Shiney’s test). They marry—simple, heartfelt. First sex is gentle, emotional, loving. Rags-to-riches begins with cheques from Krish/Swathi and Sekaran.


Chapters 32–36 – Rise to Riches & Hidden Shadows

Vikram starts humble in Chennai (5500 rent house). Refuses to touch cheques initially. Builds from odd jobs → buys failing electronics shop → massive expansion (20+ stores). Krish hands over financial concern. Vikram pays back debts. Mirnaa continues nursing. Their sex life is gentle, loving—but Vikram holds back his rough side (visions of Malar/Malavika overlay Mirnaa’s face; he panics when he speeds up). Monthly secret affair with Malavika (brutal sex) becomes his outlet. Beach house built (with hidden CCTV for secret money). Vikram’s humbleness frays slightly—elite polish creeps in—but he still protects Mirnaa’s innocence.


Chapter 36 onward

With money pouring in, Vikram began to stumble—he had changed a bit. He started taking revenge on Malavika, and Malar could be next on his list. He initiated an affair with Malavika as revenge and continued it for a while. But soon guilt overwhelmed him whenever he saw Mirnaa’s face. He decided to pull back and end the affair. Malavika advised him to open up about sex with Mirnaa slowly. Right now, he is carefully handling the sexual dynamics with his wife, gradually shifting from gentle to something more. Unaware, the Aadharsh–Bharath network could restart at any moment, putting pressure on Sekaran once again.


Current State 


Vikram is wealthy, powerful, respected—but secretly dark (affair with Malavika, hidden money, revenge satisfied). Mirnaa remains pure, trusting, innocent—nursing, loving him blindly. 

Will his dark side leak into their marriage? - which will pull back Mirna
Will Bharath/Aadharsh network pull him back? - which will put Mirnaa in danger
Will Malavika cause fallout? - which again will make Mirna hate Vikram

Results are same.. 
Vikram knows the risk even if someone says, Yes Vikram is a henchmen, its done or him.

Will Mirnaa ever discover his secrets? its a big task ahead for Vikram to Keep Mirnaa in dark.  

[heygiwriter]

No response yet for the question.. Did i over stretched it ? May be if i start again the story i will keep it short

[heygiwriter]

This is truly a brilliant story, and I would honestly say it stands among the very best on this platform. The way you have crafted the storyline and shaped the characters is remarkable, keeping the reader completely engaged from start to finish. 

Please don’t stop midway—your work clearly has the power to touch readers deeply, and sometimes silence from the audience doesn’t mean lack of appreciation, it simply means they are absorbing every word. —I sincerely hope you continue writing and sharing more of your work, because your talent deserves to be read widely. 

Yes If possible, please also share AI-generated videos to enhance the experience—it would be wonderful to see your imagination come alive visually. 

One humble request: in the intimate scenes, sometimes the detailing feels a little short, so adding more depth there could make the emotions even more powerful. Apart from that, everything else is simply outstanding. I am eagerly waiting for your next update, and I’m sure it will be just as captivating as this one.  

Regards,  
Rocky ❤️

Thanks.. will consider that detailing the intimate scene further.  

Sometimes silence from the audience doesn’t mean lack of appreciation// Unlike my previous story this had bigger stretch so i was doubtful whether it keeps engaged or i need to cater to quick sex, quick plot instead of doing these.  So thats the reason i asked

[heygiwriter]

Brilliant

Thanks

[heygiwriter]

@Heyjiwriter

You have brilliant way of story telling. This is my first comment . i always used to read and close but your story made me to comment by signing in. What a twist.. I thought Mirna going to cheat Vikram. but u made Vikram cheat Mirna using revenge..

that gentle sex Vikram - Mirna to Bharath - Priya aggressive sex back to back un intendted compariosn is awesome.

Story is very unpredictable. Dont know how u will make Mirna cheat Vikram and sleep with Bharath. one suggestion don't make it forcible.

I loved ur other story Prem - Nivi as well. Looking forward to more from u.

Thanks a lot :) No force and all, i hope you will love and do more comments

[heygiwriter]

Just curious - How do you keep updating so quickly?

It does take huge time. :) not quick. but all these ideas i used to have it :) so its easy to convert into words.

[heygiwriter]

Good story... So hot

Thanks

[heygiwriter]

I still wonder how you are going to make an affair between Bharath and Mirna, because Vikram and Mirna seem inseparable so much in love. . I also thought Ramesh or Suresh going to get Mirna in bed but story shifted on whole new route.

How can i say everything here:) before chapters are out

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 39: The Anniversary Alarm & The Past resurfacing 


Six months had slipped by like sand through fingers.

One morning in early 2026, the soft chime of the calendar alarm Vikram had set months earlier woke him. He reached for the phone, squinting at the note he’d typed long ago and forgotten:
3rd year anniversary is nearing.  


He stared at the screen, heart lurching.
How fast the first two years had gone.
Business had exploded—30 stores now, cash flowing from every direction, Krish’s financial network fully his to steer. He was entering much darker yet safer spaces—secret deals, hidden money vaults in the beach house—but he stopped himself each time for Mirnaa. Their bond had never been shaken. She was his anchor.
The biggest plus for Vikram was Mirnaa’s undemanding nature. All she wanted was for him to hear her hospital stories every night. She cooked for him early, packed lunch for herself and him, and in the evenings, they sometimes ate out, sometimes in—simple, loving rhythms.



For Mirnaa, nothing felt strange—except that one week stretch months ago when Vikram didn’t touch her. She’d worried, but he’d assured her it was stress, and it passed.
Every night, she came home and shared.


One evening, she sat beside him on the veranda, head on his shoulder.
“Today, a boy came in—eight years old, with broken legs from a fall. His family is struggling so much for financial need. The bills… they can’t afford the medicines.”
Vikram nodded, listening quietly, his arm around her.
She talked more—details of the boy’s pain, the mother’s tears, the father’s helplessness. Vikram nodded again, absorbing every word.
Next morning, he handed her an envelope—50,000 rupees.
“Give this for the medicines. Tell them it’s from a friend.”
Mirnaa’s eyes widened. She hugged him tightly,  "I love you.”


She blindly trusted him—never questioning where the money came from.
Another night: “A family today… the husband lost his job due to staying overnight in hospitals, can’t afford the burden. Their daughter needs surgery, but the costs…”
Vikram nodded, his hand stroking her hair.
Next day, he said: “Give them my card. Tell them to call—I’ll get them better jobs. Also let me pay the bills”
She hugged him again, kissed him softly on the lips. “You always know what to do. You’re my hero.”
His every action turned him into a hero before her, she found the hero she always needed just a hero who never wore a cop uniform.



He sponsored medical events too—went as guest speaker when she asked. Every time her queries were answered, she saw the love in it. For her, just being with him was love—and he had been doing more, without her knowing.


The nun from Kerala called regularly.
“How’s your health, kanna? Any news?”
Mirnaa laughed softly. “Not yet, Akka. It’s our conscious decision—to push for a few more years.”



Their sexual life had deepened gently—new positions, lace slipping over her curves, soft videos guiding her shy giggles into bolder lessons. Nothing hard, nothing brutal. Everything slow, trusting, loving. She came with soft cries, clung to him, whispered “I love you.” For her, it was perfect.
For Vikram, it was beautiful—but incomplete.



He still couldn’t unleash the aggression he’d shown Malavika. He’d ended the affair six months back—not just guilt, but a quiet realization: he thought he could explore more with Mirnaa. Yet his body never went there. He missed the raw release he’d found with Malavika. The cage held.



Then Krish called.
“Vikram,” Krish’s voice was low, urgent. “I’m returning next month. Very important. But before that, I need you to go to Trichy.”
Vikram’s grip tightened on the phone.
“The place where Sekaran anna tried that deal years back—you rescued him when you were driving. The land is key. Don’t ask why—not safe on phone. Trust me blindly. Go, buy everyone off with money. Do whatever it takes.”
Vikram felt the pull—old shadows stirring.
“I’ll go tomorrow,” he said.



He knew a deal like this could take a week. Legalities, negotiations, payoffs.
That night, he told Mirnaa.
“I have to go to Trichy for a week. Business. Call me every day.”
Mirnaa’s eyes widened slightly. Earlier trips were same-day or overnight—never seven days straight.
She nodded, trusting as always. “Be safe. I’ll call.”
Next morning, he kissed her forehead—lingering, guilty.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” she replied, smiling softly.
He left for Trichy.
The thugs Krish sent had booked him an outstation resort—30 km from his childhood village. Close enough to feel the pull, far enough to stay hidden.
As he wandered the resort parking lot that evening, he saw a familiar figure.
Vicky.
Older now, grey hair in his early thirties, clothes worn, posture slumped. No longer the fashionable rival—just a broken man.
Vikram’s rage stirred.
The first one who framed him. The one who started it all.
Vikram wanted to humiliate him. That was still pending, right?
But who was Vicky now? Why was he here?
Vikram decided to find out.



He stepped closer, voice low.
“Vicky.”
Vicky turned—eyes widening in recognition.
“You…”
The past had just walked into the present.
And Vikram felt the cage crack a little wider.

[heygiwriter]

Chapter 40: Vikram and Malar in a room ; While Bharath and Mirna met




Vikram stepped closer in the resort parking lot, voice low and steady.
“Vicky.”


Vicky turned—eyes widening in recognition, then narrowing into that same cocky glint Vikram remembered from twenty years ago. No defeat in his posture, no slump. Just a smirk, thin and bitter.


“You,” Vicky said, almost laughing. “Still alive, huh? Thought you’d be rotting somewhere by now.”


The words hit like a slap. Vikram’s fists clenched. He’d come for the land deal Krish needed—buy everyone off, close it fast. But seeing Vicky like this—broken, ragged, yet still carrying that arrogant tilt—ignited something deeper.


Vikram wanted to prove he had everything now: better state, wealth, power. The memory flashed—Vicky fucking Malar in the store room, them not stopping even after seeing him. It still hurt.

He forgot why he was here.
“I’m going to the village,” Vikram said. “See my uncle.”
Vicky’s smirk faded slightly. “Good luck with that.”

Vikram entered his car. Vicky started his bike, shouted: “I didn’t welcome you to my home!”

Vikram drove the 30 km in silence, rage simmering.


The village looked smaller, poorer. He walked the familiar lanes to his uncle’s old house—now empty, roof sagging, walls cracked.


A neighbor—an old woman sweeping the yard—recognized him.
“Vikram? You came back?”

He nodded. “My uncle… how is he?”


She shook her head slowly. “Gone. Three years back.”
Vikram asked, “What happened?”


The lady said, “He got disease and died at the hospital three years back.”



Vikram recalled his meeting in the hospital with Malar—when he rescued Sekaran anna for treatment there. Exactly the day… the day he tore Malar’s blouse inside the store/motor room.


Vikram’s stomach dropped.


The old woman continued. “Malar’s not doing well. Vicky drinks too much, lost everything in gambling. They sold all the land, all the assets. Just two houses left—one rented, one they live in. They have a boy now—sixth standard. She works day and night to pay debts.”


Vikram excused old lady and walked towards Malar house

Vikram felt nostalgia hit like a wave—old memories of Malar’s smile, her hand in his, the life they almost had. Though rage burned, he felt bad for her.



He excused himself and moved to Malar’s house.


Malar opened the door.


She looked like a matured lady—not old, but tired. Her breasts were full, almost asking him to come and take her. Lines around her eyes, hair tied back simply, saree faded—but the moment she saw him, her face lit up with genuine happiness.


“Maamaa…”


She stepped aside. She was surprised she didnt know she will see a day when Vikram will be back and even in better bright way... 

“Come in.” She said.. 



Her pulse quicked, her legs could not stay, she ran to bring some water.


Inside, the house was bare—few pieces of furniture, a small TV in the corner. 


Vikram asked, “Nothing changed inside the house. There’s still uncle’s trace everywhere.”



Malar had a drop of tears. but she wiped it and decided to converse something else.. 

She looked at him in awe and said, “You look better now, mama. 

Last time at the hospital when we met, I saw blood on your shirt, knife in your hand… I worried your life would end that way. But I’m happy you didn’t end up as a henchman.”



“I’m better now,” he said quietly. “A businessman. Things changed.”


Vicky’s vehicle reached the house and he entered house as vikram said businessman.


Vicky sat in a chair, bottle in hand, eyes bloodshot.
Vikram stood in the doorway, as he is going to go out as soon as Vicky came in.


Malar’s eyes softened. A little smile came.
Vicky snorted from the chair. “Businessman, huh? Good for you.”
Vikram ignored him. Looked at Malar.


“I want to start a branch in Trichy. Maybe you and Vicky can handle it.”
Vicky and Malar looked at each other.


Vikram continued. “I know you are struggling. You don’t want to accept it, but just give me a chance for your revival—not doing it for you, consider I’m doing it for uncle…”


Vicky laughed—cocky, bitter. “I have no intentions.”

Vikram’s eyes stayed on Malar.
“If you respect me—your mama—come to the resort this evening. I’ll be waiting in my room.”


Vikram said this and moved.

Malar realized Vicky didn’t welcome him properly. She knew Vikram had been hurt, and Vicky was always cocky.

Vicky tensed like rock. “Don’t go.”

Vikram heard it as he reached the car.
He waited till 5 p.m.



The bell rang.
Malar stood there—alone.

She wore a better saree. Her shapes were still full. Vikram’s eyes always went to her breasts; Malar noticed it but didn’t say anything.
“What about Vicky?” he asked.
“He didn’t come,” she said softly.

Vikram smirked. He knew Vicky would follow her. He always did.



He locked the door, letting her in.


Meanwhile, same time in Chennai…


Bharath had been suspended from duty—serious charges of underworld links. It had happened just a week after he and Aadharsh met to discuss revamping the three-year-old deal. Bharath hadn’t fully agreed, but he wanted to see the potential. An informer had spoiled it, and now the informer was hiding in a hospital—the same one where Mirna worked.


Bharath wanted to catch him. Beat the pulp out of him.


As he reached the hospital entrance, a car came screeching in—emergency patient drop-off. The driver lost control. The car veered toward the entrance.
Bharath saw an old man step between the car and the crowd.
Mirna and a few others shouted, “Sir… look out!”


Bharath didn’t flinch.
He jumped—pushed the old man aside, took the impact himself. Scratches raked his arms, blood spilled, the car slammed into the wall.


No one else hurt.
The old man was saved.
Mirna ran to help the old man up.

Others rushed to Bharath—panicked, helping him stand.


He brushed them off, blood dripping from his arm, eyes scanning the crowd.

Mirna looked up—saw him.
Her eyes widened.

“Sir… are you okay?”
Bharath met her gaze—calm, steady.

“I’m fine,” he said.


Vikram was 400 km away—locked in a room with Malar—while Bharath stood at the hospital entrance, blood on his shirt, eyes on the woman Vikram married.


The cage was cracking wider.
And the shadows were moving closer.