LOGINAasha. Was a young beautiful girl and always submissive. She was a classical dancer and had a dream of setting up a dance school and becoming a dance teacher. But her life was going to take a turn into tragedy because her father forced her into marriage. He doesn't respect her and hates her. When she thought what could be much worse her husband was shot right after he put a knot of marriage on her neck. The moment he became her husband she became his widow. Her husband was shot right on the altar while he was tying a knot to her. His blood spilled on her head as he fell down to her side. Horrified, she looked at the spilled blood and her husband. Panic grew among the public as they began to run away. When she looked forward unknowingly her eyes met with the murder. And he was looking at her as well. A smirk laid on his lips as he mouthed to her. "I'll get back to you".
View MoreNoted. This is how one consoles. With touch. With closeness. With presence. I’ll remember this. I’ll do the same to her one day. I’ll trace every wound she carries and kiss it until she forgets it ever hurt. I turned and pulled her fully into me, wrapping her body against my chest. She shift
"I would handle Yamini. He would handle the girl." Her breath hitched. "What do you mean… taking care of that minor girl?" I glanced at her lazily. She had empathy to throw at everyone—everyone but me. She didn’t even know that bitch. "Whatever my brother planned to." Her eyes hardened.
"He begged". "I remember that part too clearly—because even now, begging makes my skin crawl." "He dropped to his knees in front of my mother, hands shaking, voice breaking, swearing on God, on me, on the air he breathed. He said my name like it was a shield. Like using me would make him cleaner".
"Do you want to know about my mother"? I asked. She looked up at me in my hold as she nodded. I contemplated. About from where to start. I only knew her from the day I was born. But there is so much to tell her before I was born. My mother's family, and her background. “My mother…Manvi.... That
Piece by piece, she had been unraveling under my victories. The deck of cards sat between us like a loaded weapon, each round stripping away not just her adornments but her composure. Her bangles lay scattered like fallen chains, her earrings glinted against the wood, her anklet was coiled like a sm
That night, we sat across from each other at the low table in our room. The air was thick with something that wasn’t quite silence—more like a low, restless hum between us. A single bulb cast a soft amber glow on the deck of cards lying between us. She sat upright, her hands folded close to her body
She turned away from me, clutching the blanket like a shield, twisting her fingers into the fabric as if it could protect her from me. Her shoulders were stiff, her breath shallow, her long hair falling over one side like a dark river she could hide behind. Tonight the sheets were black. My color.
Her lips quivered. “Please…” I let the silence stretch until it filled the room like smoke. Then I leaned back, one arm slung over the chair, smirking. “Fine. If you can’t take it off,” I drawled, letting my eyes linger deliberately on her trembling hands clutching at her blouse, “then I’ll take s






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