A little corrage

Adhika's pov

  After crying the entire night, the first rays of the sun slowly slipped into the room, pale and uncertain, brushing against the cold walls as if even the morning was afraid to enter fully.

  My eyes burned, swollen and dry at the same time—I hadn’t slept at all. Every time I closed them, fear dragged me back into the same moment, over and over again. My body felt exhausted, heavy, but my mind refused to rest.

  I sat there, staring at the light, trying to ground myself, trying to understand where I was. I didn’t know this place. I didn’t even know which city I was in. Was I still in London? The thought clung to me desperately, because London meant school, routine, a life I recognized. But nothing around me felt familiar enough to belong there.

  If not London… then where?

  India? No. That couldn’t be possible. India was too far, and yet the uncertainty made my chest tighten. If not India, then somewhere else—some unknown place where no one knew me, where my name meant nothing, where I could disappear without leaving a trace.

  The realization made me feel smaller than ever.

  Questions crowded my head relentlessly. Does anyone know I’m missing? Has Papa found out? Is he even… I couldn’t finish the thought. I pressed my fingers into my palms, trying to stop my mind from spiraling further.

  The sunlight grew stronger, but it didn’t bring warmth—only clarity. And clarity was terrifying. Because with the new day came the unbearable truth: I was alone, trapped in a place I didn’t recognize, with no idea how far I was from everything I once called home.

  Then suddenly, the door opened. My heart leapt into my throat, and for a terrifying second I thought he had come back. My whole body tensed, fear tightening every muscle—but it wasn’t him.

  Two girls stepped inside instead. One of them carried a tray with food and a glass of water, her steps careful, almost hesitant

  The other followed closely behind, holding something white in her hands. My eyes drifted to it before I could stop myself. It was a gown—long, soft, and painfully unfamiliar.

  For a moment, my mind refused to accept what it resembled, but the truth hit me anyway. It looked like a wedding gown.

  Confusion slammed into me harder than fear. My chest tightened as questions rushed in, tangled and suffocating. Why a gown? .

  Before I could form a single thought, one of the girls finally spoke, her voice low and formal. “Ma’am, please take a shower and eat this." She placed the tray down carefully, as if any sudden movement might shatter me.

  I shook my head immediately, panic spilling over. "No,"I said desperately, my voice breaking. "Please… let me go. I want to go h..home Please." The word home trembled on my lips, fragile and aching, like it might disappear if I said it again.

  The second girl swallowed hard before speaking. "Ma'am, please try to understand," she said quietly. I noticed then—the fear in her eyes. Not anger. Not cruelty. Fear. "If you don’t do this, the consequences will be worse for us."

  Her words sent a chill through me. Worse for us.

  "Please, ma'am," one of them said again, her voice almost breaking.

  I didn’t have the strength left to argue. My body felt hollow, like all the crying had drained something essential out of me. Slowly, mechanically, I stood up from the bed and walked toward the washroom. Every step felt heavy, like I was walking toward something I didn’t want to face.

  The water hit my skin, warm but meaningless. I stood there for a few minutes—five, maybe ten—staring blankly at the wall as it washed over me. I didn’t feel clean. I didn’t feel better. I just felt numb. When I came back out, I sat on the bed again and forced myself to eat. Each bite felt difficult, my throat tight, my appetite gone. I managed to eat only half before my hands started shaking too much to continue.

  That’s when one of the girls spoke again. "Ma'am, we have to get you ready."

  I looked up sharply, my heart sinking. "For what?" I asked, my voice was quiet but tense.

  She hesitated, then lowered her eyes. "We can't answer you, ma'am. Please… just wear this gown."

  I understood then. Not the reason—but the fear behind her words. She wasn’t allowed to explain. She didn’t have a choice. But understanding that didn’t make it easier. My eyes drifted back to the white gown, still lying there, innocent-looking and terrifying all at once.

  Something inside me snapped.

  "No," I said firmly, shaking my head. "I'm not going to wear this." My voice grew stronger as fear turned into resistance. "I will not wear this… gown."

  The room fell silent. My heart was racing, but this time I didn’t back down. Whatever they were trying to prepare me for, I couldn't accept it. I couldn’t surrender myself so easily. Even trapped, even terrified, I knew one thing clearly—this was a line I refused to cross.

  "Mam… if sir gets to know that you're denying his order, then....."she stopped mid-sentence, fear flickering openly across her face. After a brief pause, she continued in a softer, almost pleading voice, "It won't be good for you, ma'am. Please… just wear this. Otherwise we'll have to inform sir. Please."

  Her words were meant to scare me—and they did—but something stubborn rose inside me, stronger than the fear. I shook my head slowly, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "Then inform your boss,"I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I'm not scared of him."

  It was a lie. Every part of me was terrified. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt, but I refused to let them see it. I stood my ground, my chin lifted, even as my legs trembled beneath me. If this was the only control I had left, then I would hold onto it—no matter what came next.

  "Mam, please try to...."

  She stopped mid-sentence. Completely froze. The air in the room shifted so suddenly that my stomach dropped. Her eyes widened, then lowered, and in a barely audible voice she said, "Sir."

  My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

  No… no, no, no.

  He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t have heard that. My breathing turned shallow as dread crept up my spine. Both girls instantly looked down at the floor, their bodies stiff with fear. I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. It felt like if I did, whatever fragile courage I had left would shatter.

  Then his voice came—calm, cold, absolute.

  "Leave."

  That single word was enough. They didn’t hesitate, didn’t argue, didn’t even glance at me. They rushed out of the room, the door closing behind them with a soft but final click.

  Silence swallowed everything.

  We were alone again. In the same small room. The walls felt closer, the air heavier. My back was to him, my shoulders tense, my hands clenched tightly as I tried to steady my breathing. I could feel him there—his presence like burning embers against my skin, close enough to make my pulse race.

  Then he spoke again, right behind me.

  "What did you just say, sweetheart?"

  His voice was low, dangerous, almost gentle—and that terrified me more than shouting ever could. I stayed facing forward, refusing to turn, my heart pounding as fear and defiance twisted painfully together inside my chest.