“Do you see your parents?” he asked softly, and I opened my eyes, feeling a stiffness in my throat at the mention of my parents.
I shook my head and sensed his hand gently working through my loose braid.
“Why not?” he asked.
I lifted my gaze and pressed my chin against his chest, meeting his eyes.
“You know, when a girl is born, her parents view her as a debt, someone who belongs to another. They raise her with everything they have, teach her life’s lessons, prepare her for her future, reminding her that once she leaves her house for her husband’s, the door to her home will close forever,” I said, feeling his fingers gently touch the back of my head and his thumb caress my ear.
“After marrying me off, they seemed to treat me like I was gone, forever from their life,” I continued.“It was their dream to send me off to my husband’s home, and when they did, they didn’t care if I was dead or alive.”
His thumb, gently caressing my cheek, stopped me from crying.
“Then?” he asked, and I gulped.
“I couldn’t escape him for the first three months. I was terrified. Death seemed easy to me. I was young when I got married and…” I took a brief pause. My voice went heavy with emotion.
“You can tell me anything. I know everything,” he muttered, wrapping his other hand around me, sending me an extra wave of comfort.
“Menstruation always scared me,” I chuckled softly.“I wouldn’t even move, fearing I might get bloodstains on my clothes, and that would be embarrassing.”
He smiled weakly, listening to me, his fingers gently brushing my braid.
“And after spending the first night with him, I realised my fear was nothing compared to it. I was afraid of the nights. I couldn’t even watch the sun setting. Day after day, the terror became my ultimate reality.” I wobbled at the end and looked at his stiff face.
His fingers played with my thoughts, detangling the knots in my mind. He was silent, listening to every word I said.
“He hurt me beyond repair. After fucking me, he wouldn’t even ask if I needed water, or if I wanted to... be taken care of, or if I needed a break. And if I resisted because of exhaustion, he would make excuses, saying,‘It won’t take long’.”
My breathing grew heavy as I recalled the painful memory, but he kept me grounded, caressing my cheek.
“Once I was cooking for his family, it was late morning. I was alone in our small house when he returned from work. While kneading the dough, I saw him walk in through the door. By then, I had become familiar with his expressions. The way he looked at me, I knew what it was. I tried to ignore him and focused on kneading the dough faster. I only intended to escape him and head toward the cowshed to feed them. But he stripped, stepping closer, and I knew there was no escape.”
Tears stung my eyes, my lips quivered, making it hard for me to speak.
He instantly wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to his chest.
“You don’t have to say it,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths.
“He abruptly held me up and pushed me against the wall,” I burst into tears.“Then he bent me forward and took me from behind. My face was pressed against the wall, bruised. I… I went numb, and when he was done, I fell to my knees, nearly unconscious,”
“Suman,” he mumbled, kissing my forehead.
Tears fell from my eyes as words trembled out of my mouth.
“But I had to finish kneading the dough, watch over the boiling milk, finish cooking the vegetables, and make food for his family,” My heart ached immensely, and I clenched my fist tightly on his chest.
“Why did you not meet me before?”
I whimpered, looking at him.“I swear, if it had been you, I would’ve gladly hugged the flames without resistance.”
He cupped my cheek and shook his head.“No, never, for me or anyone; life is never worth giving up,” he muttered, kissing my forehead and cheek before hugging me tightly.
My face nestled into his neck. I felt at ease in his arms.
The tears ceased as he gently caressed my back. My hair fell to one side, which he prevented from falling back further.
