Page 1 of Entangled Vows (Destined Diaries #2)

Present

Leaning against the balcony railing of his Malabar Hill penthouse, Vikram Khurana took a slow sip of the amber liquid swirling in his glass.

Earlier, he’d turned down an invitation from his friends, saying he was too busy with work to join them for a game of tennis at the clubhouse where his best friend Arjun lived.

But the truth was, he just wanted to be alone and wallow in his thoughts.

The Arabian Sea stretched endlessly in front of him, its breathtaking hues of blue merging with the horizon.

His tall frame, broad shoulders, and impeccably tailored suit contributed to his persona, giving him an air of effortless sophistication.

His dark hazel eyes gleamed in the twilight, alight with quiet confidence and self-assurance.

Power and grace clung to him as naturally as the salt in the sea.

The warm breeze, though, stirred up memories of his mother and the few trips they’d taken to Goa when he was a child.

Those days with her, before she walked out of their lives, had been the happiest of his life.

Even at thirty-two, he still couldn’t stop wondering why she’d left.

The same question kept playing in his mind again and again, unanswered every time.

For years, Vikram had stayed away from his hometown, Dehradun, and all it stood for.

Here, in Mumbai, he’d built a life on his own terms, far from the suffocating shadow of the Khurana Empire.

But now, that self-imposed exile had come to an end.

A cold dread settled in his chest as his younger brother Suraj’s words echoed in his mind like a death knell.

Their dad had lung cancer.

He had replayed Suraj’s call a hundred times in his head before it struck him; something about his brother’s voice had been off. It was all wound up and shaky. Maybe it was the shock of the news, or perhaps it could be the strain of managing the business alone while Dad was ill.

Vikram had tried to be there. He’d visited once in the past few days, and though his father was still unwell, he looked better than he had during their video call last week.

Still, that call had unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

The illness had mellowed down the man his father once was.

His once powerful glare and unshakable authority had faded with time and sickness.

Vikram drew in a deep breath, letting the salty air fill his lungs and anchor him. Away from the city’s hustle and bustle, only the sea kept him company. Closing his eyes, he let the stillness seep in, relishing the quiet.

Just then, his phone rang.

His eyes snapped open. He pulled the phone from his pocket, and his father’s name lit up the screen.

That was odd. They had spoken just three days ago, and had again planned to speak next week.

His father, Sanjyot Khurana, was a man of habit, and their weekly conversations had been a ritual for as long as Vikram could remember.

Once a pattern was set, it had to be followed…

that was his dad’s mantra. He always stuck to his routine, unless something was wrong.

A knot of apprehension tightened in his gut as he swiped to answer.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Son, I need to talk to you,” rasped the voice. Something about it didn’t sound right.

“What’s going on?” Vikram asked, instantly on alert.

There was a long pause. “It’s Suraj. He’s left.”

Vikram’s grip on the phone tightened. “Left? What do you mean, left?”

“He went away… yesterday. He’d gone to meet the lawyer, came back home, packed his things, and just took off. He was furious, and I have no clue why.”

Vikram’s jaw clenched. “What the heck did he say?”

“He told me he refused to be my puppet any longer. He flat out said, ‘Call your other son,’ and walked out.”

Vikram frowned, confused, trying to process those words. Had Suraj really said that? Although his younger brother had always been persistent and occasionally outspoken, this level of defiance was very unlike him.

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No, he told me not to look for him, and now even his phone is switched off. I’m at a loss, Vicky. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“I will try to reach him,” Vikram said resolutely.

“No. What I need from you is...” His father’s voice faltered. “Come home. The doctors say I don’t have much time. Maybe three to four months max.”

A heavy silence followed. It was as if someone had sucked the air out of the room.

Vikram felt a sharp pang in his chest. He and his dad had never really gotten along, but he’d never pictured a world without him.

His dad could be tough, overbearing, sometimes even impossible, but he had always been there for him.

Unlike Vikram’s mother, he had stayed and held their fractured family together.

“Stop talking like that, Dad. You’ll be fine,” Vikram said, his voice tight.

“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.”

Vikram ended the call before the silence swallowed him whole.

He stared at his phone for a second and felt a wave of frustration.

“Fuck!” he roared, grabbing a clay artifact and flinging it to the floor. It shattered into countless tiny fragments.

Vikram collapsed into a chair, gasping for air, the crushing burden of everything pressing down on him. Suraj was gone. His dad was on his deathbed. Everything he had left behind was now coming back at him, relentless and unavoidable.

He pushed the emotions down. His next move was already planned… to take control. He hated it, but still...

The day he left Dehradun, Vikram had made two promises to himself. First, he would never join the family business, as that was the very thing that had torn their happy family apart.

And second, he would never fail a woman after marrying her, never betray her trust and love the way his father had failed their mother.

And yet, here he was... caught between the new life he had built in Mumbai and the one he had walked away from.

He’d told Arjun, his business partner and his brother in every sense, about his dad’s diagnosis last week. As always, Arjun had stepped in and taken full charge of the startup while Vikram dealt with the family emergency. That was Arjun—solid, dependable, the only family that truly mattered to him.

Vikram was a man of his word. Once he made a decision, he followed through, no matter the cost. If it were up to him, he would have stayed in Mumbai, building the future he and Arjun had carved out.

But tonight, he had no choice. Leaving the city that had become his home wasn’t just painful… it was unavoidable.

He went into his bedroom, called Arjun to update him on the situation, and began packing. Once he was done, he quickly grabbed his bag and took the elevator down to the lobby.

A black SUV was waiting for him as he approached the entrance of his building. Arjun, Vaayu, and Adil leaned casually against it, while Kabir sat behind the wheel. For a moment, nobody said anything. The silence was heavy, charged with all the things they wanted to say but did not.

Adil broke it first. He stepped forward, silently grabbed Vikram’s bag, and tossed it into the trunk. “You pack light, as always,” he muttered.

“That’s how I like to travel. Excess baggage is not my thing,” Vikram replied dryly.

Arjun turned to Vikram, his expression softening as his gaze searched his best friend’s face. “You good?”

Vikram paused, then gave a half-shrug. “As good as I’ll ever be.”

One by one, the others settled into their seats.

Vikram stood there for a moment longer and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t a sentimental man. He never had been.

Yet this moment left a mark on his heart.

It felt as if he wasn’t just leaving a business behind, but a piece of his life.

Somehow, this bunch of goofballs had become his family without him even realising it, and the thought of not seeing them often made his chest tighten.

Fuck, he was so lucky. Few people had friends this loyal. For him, they were like his brothers, closer than blood relatives ever could be.

“Vikram, are you coming or what?” Kabir’s voice cut through from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” Vikram muttered, finally pulling the door open and sliding into the passenger seat.

The SUV’s interior smelled faintly of leather, cigarette smoke, and friendship.

He turned his head, meeting their eyes one by one.

Arjun’s carried a quiet focus. Vaayu’s crooked grin was hiding his nerves.

Adil’s quiet, sharp gaze was screaming more than words ever could, and Kabir’s tense jaw was the only sign that the super calm man he knew was really trying to hide his anxiousness.

Still, not a single one of them asked for explanations. Not a single one passed judgment.

He wanted to fucking hug them. Just then, Vaayu leaned forward from the back seat. “Just so you know, we’re only a call away, Vicky. You say the word, and we’ll be there before you hang up the phone.”

“Don’t make it sound like some cheesy, sappy movie,” Adil muttered, but there was a faint tremor in his voice. “He’s just going to a different state, not to a different planet. Vicky fucking knows what he is to us.”

Arjun simply nodded. “We’ve got your back, brother. Always.”

Vikram looked at them, his throat tightening. “I know,” he said quietly.

And for once in his life, he let himself feel everything he was feeling right then. The car eased forward, rolling into the night. The silence inside was no longer heavy. It was something else. It was loyalty. It was trust.

What filled the space was quiet, pure, and unmatched love and support.

And for now, that was enough.