Page 2 of Entangled Vows
“Fine?” A bitter laugh escaped his father’s lips. “Seriously, son? Just look at the state of things. The business is hanging by a thread. The JK group is falling apart. Om passed away last year. I am on the brink of death. Suraj has walked out. And you? You’re still not here.”
Vikram remained silent. Om Jaykar had been his father’s best friend and business partner. Last year, he’d suddenly died of cardiac arrest and had left his son, Mohit, to take over the reins of the company.
“I’m coming, Dad,” Vikram said at last, his voice firm despite everything. “I’ll be home soon.”
His father inhaled sharply. “Are you serious, son?”
The hint of hope in his voice hit Vikram hard. His father was an emotionally stoic man, but cancer and age had clearly taken a toll on him.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice firm.
“I’m sending the jet. Ratan will handle everything else. He’ll meet you at the tarmac and fill you in.”
Vikram nodded. He knew there was no turning back now. He had no choice but to go.
“Fine,” he said tightly.
For seven years, he’d stayed away from the pull of the family business. Seven years of distance, of pretending he didn’t care. Now, everything he had once left behind was falling apart, and he was heading straight back into the very mess he’d tried to escape from.
There was a beat of silence. Then his father spoke again, his voice quieter, gentler. “You stayed away a long time, Vikram. I thought… maybe you would never come back.”
“I had my reasons,” Vikram replied, his tone sharper than he intended.
“I know.” His father sighed, sounding weary. “I also know I was hard on you. Maybe too hard. I wanted you to be stronger than me. Better than me. A man of steel, capable of running this business efficiently. But maybe I should have shown my love to you more often. After your mom left…”
His voice cracked.
“Don’t,” Vikram snapped.
“I know you don’t like to talk about her, but… I just want to say I am sorry, son.”
Vikram swallowed hard. “You don’t need to say sorry.”
“No. I do,” his father admitted quietly. “I should have said it long ago. But I am saying it now, before it is too damn late.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Vikram muttered, his throat tight.
“Not talking about it doesn’t change the situation. But you coming here… that can.” His father’s voice was low, almost pleading, but there was also a lightness to it.
“Are you never going to stop blackmailing me?” Vikram sighed.
“Viku.” His father’s voice cracked at the childhood nickname. “I am a father. And blackmailing their child is every parent’s right.” There was the faintest trace of teasing in his tone.
“Is that so, old man?” Vikram chuckled, though the frustration burning in his chest was hard to mask.
“Old, my foot. I could still beat you in a race if I wanted,” came the sharp reply.
Vikram let out a scoff. “Fine, you win.”
The words slipped out, but the heaviness in his chest remained. He drew in a tired breath. What kind of life was this? Always cruel, always forcing him to choose between what he wanted and what he was expected to do.
“Viku...” His dad croaked. “I can’t wait to see you!”
Again… that name.Viku.No one had called him that since his mother, and hearing it now tore open a wound he’d spent years trying to bury.
“I need to pack, Dad,” he said quickly, his voice strained.
“Alright, son.” His father’s breathing was ragged, but there was a quiet peace in it. “Come home soon.”
