PROMO

She sat huddled in the corner of the dark room, knees pulled close to her chest. The thin light from the hallway barely reached her; shadows pooled around her like quiet, patient things. Her hands trembled against her shins, and every breath came small and sharp — as if the air itself weighed on her chest. Her lips moved, forming words that dissolved before they could leave her mouth; sound never followed. Pain lived in the steady set of her shoulders and the slow, fragile way she blinked. She did not sob or make a show of grief — the room held her silence like an old habit. Outside, life went on, indifferent; inside, Meera felt only the narrow, raw space of the moment, held tight and alone.

"Main sirf ek jimmedari hun patni nahin"

Meera kept muttering this and all the tears in her eyes had dried up.

He sits leaning against his room door, his eyes filled with regret. He rests his head on his knees. His entire body is trembling, and his heart is aching intensely. He presses his hand tightly against his heart, hoping to ease the pain. But his pain isn't just overwhelming, it's deep within.

"I am sorry bacha"

he is whispering

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A small house, beautifully decorated and aglow with a festive energy, was witnessing a baby shower ceremony, with everyone pouring in to bless the expectant mother. Sweets and gifts were pouring in. Women in colorful saris danced, swirling like petals. The small house felt like a grand palace simply because of the joy that shone through it, laughter bubbling, and the sound of gentle flirting echoing from one corner to the other. Young women nudged each other and giggled, and some aunties pretended to be stern—it was all a warm, familiar dance of rituals, food, and smiles.

Amidst all that commotion, a married woman was standing in a corner, watching all that. She had a fake smile on her face, a smile that was artificial. Her hand was repeatedly going to her stomach and caressing it as if to say that there was something breathing inside her stomach.

A woman came and placed a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder and, with a slight smile, said, "Come, let's begin the rituals." Her voice was filled with love. The girl smiled, nodded, and moved on.

But as she moved forward, a soft murmur rose from the group—loud enough for all to hear, a whisper that echoed like a stone dropped into still water. Those words seemed to turn the entire palace of joy into a peaceful silence, for those who believed that performing the rituals by "a barren woman was a bad omen, in case something happened to the child or its mother."

She stopped. Her feet wouldn't move. Her accustomed smile broke—not from anger, not even from noise, but from something small, impossible: a tear that slipped down the curve of her cheek. The conversation in the room died down, not because she stopped, but because her silence distanced her. The distance between her and everyone else grew until she felt as if she were standing on the edge of something fragile and hollow.

Her hands trembled on her stomach, where she had once convinced herself there was life. The memory of loss—a personal, shattering thing—rose suddenly and hot, and the air felt too sharp to breathe. Without a word, without practicing restraint, she turned and ran out the door onto the street, leaving behind the clatter of plates and the polite concern of onlookers.  Her passing was a small thunderbolt: no one stopped her in time, and the celebration, meant to bring joy to life, faded at the edges as those who remained felt the grief of the woman who had been trying for so long to make their hearts believe again.

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When he returned home that evening, the first thing he noticed was the silence. It wasn’t the peaceful kind — it was the heavy, echoing kind of quiet that feels almost alive. The moment he opened the door, it greeted him like an unwelcome guest. Every sound, every breath seemed too loud in its presence. Once, this house had been full of laughter, the clinking of cups, the soft hum of music. Now, it was only silence that stayed behind — faithful, unchanging, and cold.

He stepped inside, looking around as if expecting something to break that stillness. His eyes searched for her. For a moment, he thought she wasn’t home. Then, a faint sound came from the kitchen — the soft clatter of utensils, a flame whispering on the stove. He followed it quietly.

There she was. His wife. Standing by the counter, her back turned to him, her movements slow and mechanical. She was cooking — a sight that should have felt ordinary, but for them, it wasn’t. She had never been used to doing housework; it was new, unfamiliar. He watched her for a moment before walking closer, trying to find a small bridge between them.

"Do you need any help?" he asked gently, his voice uncertain but kind.

She didn’t look at him. Her hands kept moving, stirring something in the pan. "No,"she said curtly, the word sharp enough to cut the air between them.

He froze, caught off guard by her tone — cold, distant, almost dismissive. For a second, anger flared somewhere deep inside him, but it faded just as quickly, swallowed by disappointment. He looked at her — really looked — and saw someone he could no longer reach. Someone who didn’t want to be reached.

Without saying another word, he stepped back and quietly left the kitchen. The moment he turned away, she finally looked up. Her eyes followed him, filled not with sadness, but with something darker — a quiet hatred that she couldn’t hide anymore.

He didn’t see it, but it was there — that thin, invisible wall of resentment that had grown between them, brick by brick, word by word.

There was a time when their home was filled with laughter, when their love felt certain, strong enough to hold the world together. But now, all that remained was silence — a silence stripped of warmth, stripped of trust. And in that silence, their love had begun to die… quietly, like a candle running out of flame.

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The forest was alive with darkness, the kind that seemed to swallow sound and light alike. Shadows shifted among the trees, and every rustle hinted at unseen eyes. Strange growls and whispers echoed through the underbrush, a chilling chorus that made her heart hammer in her chest. She ran, her feet barely touching the uneven ground, her breaths sharp and ragged. Each step carried the fear that if she stumbled or paused, no one would ever find her. In this place, a single mistake could cost a life; defiance was punished as harshly as rebellion.

She had loved him once, more than she thought possible. But now she saw the truth — the man she adored was a monster, indifferent to the lives of others. The realization hit her like ice: the warmth and devotion she had believed in were lies, a mask for something terrifying. The air around her felt tight, constricting, as if the forest itself sought to trap her. And yet, despite the impossible odds, she ran, hiding, slipping through the dark corridors of trees, desperate to escape.

Just as hope flickered in her mind — the faintest thought that she might survive the night — he appeared. His figure emerged from the shadows, and his eyes met hers with a smile that was beautiful and horrifying all at once. It was a grin that made her skin crawl, yet made her chest ache with the memory of love. Her steps faltered; the forest, the fear, all of it seemed to vanish in that moment, leaving her exposed and trembling.

She tried to retreat, but her body betrayed her, almost collapsing to the ground. Strong hands caught her, lifting her with ease, holding her close. His breath was warm against her hair, his voice smooth yet commanding as he whispered, "The farther you try to go from me, the closer I will come. You came into my life by your own will, and now… you cannot leave. Patni ji"

Tears spilled from her eyes, hot and uncontrollable, and he saw each one. Without hesitation, the man sees the tears and licks them with his tongue and he drew her closer, pressing her gently into his chest. "Even these tears," he murmured, his voice low and possessive, "belong only to me."

And then, as though the darkness itself could not hold them, he carried her away from the forest, away from the fear, toward their home — a place that now felt less like safety and more like the twisted bond between them. She clung to him, her sobs quieting against his shoulder, lost somewhere between fear, heartbreak, and the undeniable pull of a love she could neither resist nor understand.

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A girl, dressed like a beautiful bride, stands before the mirror, staring at her reflection. Every detail is perfect—the dress, the jewelry, the henna on her hands—but her eyes betray nothing. There is no joy, no spark, no life. All her happiness has been extinguished, murdered by the very people she loved most in this world. The two souls she would have fought the world for—her father and the man she loved more than her own life—have destroyed everything that once made her heart beat.

Today, she is dead inside. Today, in front of the mirror, stands not a bride, but the corpse of a bride. She will marry, take the seven vows, become someone’s wife. But she will do so like a shell, like a body moving through ceremonies, not like a living human being.

And in the silence, she whispers to herself, barely audible:

"I wore this dress for a life I can no longer feel; they took everything—even me.

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"Aahh Ummm aaa bass Auuurrrr nhiiii..."

woman crying in pain and screams very loudly

"Ahh aahh umm aaa ahh umm aaa ahh umm aaa aahh dhereee ahhh ahh ummmmmm dheere ahh aahh umm"

she begs a lot and very tired

"Aurr maat kijiye na ab bahut ho gaya bus"

she says crying

"Nahin Mera maan abhi nahin bhara abhi aur aur vaise bhi mere andar ke Janwar ko tumne hi Bahar nikala hai"

his breathing was going up and

down loudly but He was not ready to   

leave her.

"Nhi au..... ahh uhhaa maa...f kar dijiye ahh aahh umm aa ahh ahh umm aa aahh ahh"

she feels like she's going to die

"Shout, your shouting brings me peace tere baap ko bhi to pata chale ki usne apni jindagi ki Sabse Badi galti kari hai thakuron par ungali uthane ki galti chilla Meri Bird aur Jor Se chilla"

He was having sex with her like an animal. He was thrusting his dick into her hole in quick succession.

She screams helplessly but it has no effect on the man and  she is punished for a mistake she did not commit.

Just like a bird gets trapped in a cage, this bird too is trapped in the cage of Thakurs. The only difference is that the bird can breathe freely in the cage but this bird cannot move as per its wish, let alone breathe.

She has been caged in such a way that no one can even hear her voice

What is Her  fault, only this much that her father did not listen to a Thakur's.

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~Tropes~

Spicy

Mafia

Mystery

Royal Romance

Multiple couples

Force marriage

Arrange marriage

Love marriage

Touch her and Die

Strong female lead

Dominating Male lead

He fell frst and harder

She fell frst but he fell harder

Obsessive and possessive Male lead

~Warnings~

Grammatical errors

Sexual Assault

Self-Harm

Dark Themes

Violence

Trigger Warning

Mature Content

Abusive language

Dark characters

Manipulation

Violence

Smut

Sensitive content

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(Please, if you have any objection to any of these topics and warnings, then do not read this book. It is not for you and please do not report it.)