I’ve been trapped in this nightmare of a marriage for two years now, ever since I got married to Amit and moved into his family's sprawling house. His mother always blaming me for every little things, my every move—how I fold the laundry, the way I season the meals, even the clothes I wear. And Amit? He's no better, his 'discipline' turning into cruel remarks and slaps when his mother fuels him against me, leaving bruises that I hide under long sleeves.
They both only ease up when Pranav, Amit's father, is around. He's the quiet rock of the family, his presence alone making them back off like scolded children. I've caught him watching me with kind eyes, a subtle protectiveness that makes my heart—and other parts—flutter.
I have started something I am not even sure anyone would read. Now here we are. Me—still writing. You—still here. I’m not backed by fame or algorithms, just pure passion… and you. So if you’re reading this, thank you. Your support doesn’t just help—it builds this journey. And every share, every comment, every cheer? It’s another “Keep going.” And I will. For you to read. Comment your darkest desires to read in the story.
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