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I’m a passionate writer, striving to turn my words and stories into something meaningful while earning through what I truly love.
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There is a kind of silence that comes just before thunder-heavy, suffocating. That was the silence in Sahastra Tripathi's heart. He had walked away from privilege and power-for love. For Sparshika. But she wasn't Sparshika. She was Urvi. And everything he had abandoned was now burning behind him. "What happened, Urvi? Did you forget your name or think I was a fool?" "I... I was going to tell you-" Two strides. He grabbed her hair. CRACK! Her head slammed into the kitchen counter. Plates shattered. She cried out, collapsing, blood gushing from her forehead. "Sahastra ji!" she whimpered. He yanked her back up. SLAP! Her cheek snapped sideways. She fell again, lip split open. "Please don't hit me..." He pressed his shoe on her cheek, grinding it into the marble. "You lied to me. Your name, your past-everything was a lie." "No... I love you!" He crouched, grabbed her face. His eyes burned. "My father was on the brink of death... because of you." She blinked, stunned. "What?" "Still pretending?" SLAP! She hit the floor again. "I really don't know..." He didn't let her finish. He lifted her, threw her over his shoulder, stormed into the bedroom and threw her onto the bed. His belt came off. He tied her wrists to the bedposts-tight, ruthless. He crouched again, jaw clenched. "Because of you, my father is in this condition." "You gave away his location, didn't you?" "But too bad... he survived." "But now he can't walk. And neither will you." He grabbed her foot-twisted. CRACK! She screamed. He smiled darkly. "Don't stop screaming. Your pain soothes me." He grabbed her other foot. Twisted-slow, calculated. Stopped just before the break. "I could break it... but not yet." "I'll break you. And your legs. Slowly." He stood, breath ragged. Eyes hollow. "Just like my father can't walk... you never will." He turned, slammed the door. Urvi lay tied, broken, bleeding. She could no longer tell what hurt more-her body, or her heart.
Kaha gayi thi biwi?" Trayambak snarled from behind, his voice cold and close to Dhimahi’s ear. She froze. That tone, it always made her heart stop. ["Where had you gone, wife?"] She was too scared to speak. Her throat tightened. “Meri pyari biwi, maine tumse kuch pucha hai,” he repeated, his fingers brushing her neck. His touch felt like a warning. He grabbed her and forced her to face him. Dhimahi couldn't look into his eyes. She knew what was coming. ["My dear wife, I asked you something"] After a long, painful pause, she realised she had to speak but she chose to lie because there was no way out. Her voice shaking, she whispered, “Wo... wo mai Nit... Nit... Nitya ke sath..” ["I..I was with Nit...Nit...Nitya...."] Before she could finish, a loud slap echoed through the room. Her head snapped to the side. Her lip started bleeding. “Kaha tha na tujhse mujhe jhooth nahi pasand,” he growled, grabbing her hair to stop her from falling. [ "Didn't I tell you I don't entertain lies"] “Chal, dobara puch raha hu, kaha gayi thi?” [ "Come on, I am asking you again-where had you gone?"] Crying uncontrollably now, Dhimahi pleaded, “Please mujhe maaf kar dein, mai... mai Prateek ke sath library mei...” [ "Please forgive me, I... I was with Prateek in the library..."] He didn't care. His hand closed around her neck. “Kyu? Mana kiya tha na tujhe bahar nikalne se?” ["Why? Didn't I forbid tou from going out?"] She couldn't breathe. She clawed at his arms, trying to get free. Finally, she folded her hands and nodded, trying to show she agreed, that she’d listen. Anything to make it stop. He let her go, and she collapsed to the floor. But it wasn't over. He grabbed her hair again and dragged her toward the bedroom. Her body ached. Her voice was lost. “Kapde utar,”he said coldly. ["Strip"] Dhimahi’s hands shook as she reached for her dupatta. There was no point resisting. She knew it. But she was too slow. Trayambak stormed towards her, ripped her kurti, and forced her down to her knees. “Muh khol.” ["Open your mouth"] She looked up at him, her eyes full of fear, pleading silently. “Mere paas duniya bhar ka samay nahi hai muh khol warna mujhe aur bhi tareeke aate hai," he snapped, grabbing her hair again with one hand and slapping her lightly with another one. ["I don't have all the time in the world- open your mouth, or I know other ways to make you,"] She was empty now. Her tears kept falling, but she didn't fight. She couldn't. Like always, she did what she was told. Because Trayambak wasn't a husband. He was a monster. And she was trapped.
He is 32 — mature, arrogant, feared by everyone and practical — the powerful village headman whose word is law. She is 19 — naive, bubbly, and emotionally driven — a common village girl from a poor background. He believes in control. She believes in love. He forcefully married her, and she was forced to marry him. They say opposites attract... but will they?
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