This story is a bit dark...It's how will Sahiba find herself again...
Sahiba sat alone in the dimly lit store room, her gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling above. It had been two long months since the day she was forcibly married off to Angad, the CEO of Brar Jewellers, a man she barely knew. In those two months, she had learned the harsh reality of her new existence.
Angad, once the charming suitor promised to her sister Seerat, now wore a mask of resentment and anger. He used Sahiba for his own needs, his touch devoid of warmth or affection. Each day, she bore the brunt of his frustration, his anger at Seerat's betrayal unleashed upon her in bitter words and harsh actions.
Sahiba's mind drifted back to that fateful wedding night, a memory etched into her consciousness with painful clarity. Angad's words had cut through her like a knife, his voice dripping with venom as he laid bare his grievances. "You will pay for Seerat's sins and your mother's foolishness," he had spat, his eyes ablaze with fury.
She shuddered as she recalled the coldness in his touch, the way his hands roamed her body with possessive entitlement. "I have every right over you," he had declared, his words a damning reminder of her powerless existence in this twisted charade of a marriage. Sahiba had no choice but to submit to his demands, her body a mere vessel for his desires.
Each night was a torment, a relentless cycle of pain and humiliation as Angad claimed his so-called "husband rights" over her. She bore the weight of his anger and resentment, a silent witness to the wreckage of her sister's betrayal.
As Sahiba sat alone in the dimly lit store room, her gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling above, memories of the past flooded her mind. It had been three weeks since their forced marriage, and each passing day only seemed to bring more pain and humiliation.
In her recollection, she heard the familiar sound of Angad's footsteps approaching. Her heart sank as she braced herself for what was to come. Angad entered the room with a predatory glint in his eyes, his expression a mixture of desire and entitlement. "Sahiba," he murmured, his voice laced with barely concealed lust. "Come here."
Sahiba's stomach churned with dread as she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Angad, I..." she began, her voice trembling with apprehension. "I'm on my period."
Angad's eyes narrowed into slits of rage at her audacity to defy him. "What?" he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "How dare you deny me what is rightfully mine?"
Sahiba recoiled at the venom in his tone, her heart pounding with fear. "I'm sorry, Angad," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't..."
But Angad cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand." I don't care," he snarled, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "You will do as I say, Sahiba, or there will be consequences."
Tears welled up in Sahiba's eyes as she remembered the depth of his control over her. "Please, Angad," she pleaded, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm not feeling well..."
But Angad's rage only seemed to escalate at her defiance. "You will fulfill my needs, Sahiba," he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "Or else..."
Sahiba's heart hammered in her chest as she recalled the fear and helplessness she felt in that moment. It was a memory etched into her consciousness with painful clarity, a stark reminder of the suffocating grip Angad held over her life.
Sahiba's heart clenched with a mixture of resentment and despair as she reflected on her situation. It was a cruel irony that Angad, the man who claimed to be her husband, never allowed her beyond the threshold of his bedroom. Instead, he would visit her in the small store room she had converted into a makeshift sanctuary with her artistic skills. It was a room adorned with her paintings and sketches, a sanctuary where she could retreat from the harsh realities of her marriage, if only for a fleeting moment.
Yet, she knew that her presence in Angad's life was merely a formality, a facade to appease his family and salvage their tarnished reputation. He came to her only when it suited him, using her body as a means to vent his frustrations and satiate his desires. And each time he left, Sahiba was left alone with the echoes of his absence, a hollow emptiness gnawing at her soul.
But what hurt the most was the knowledge that everyone knew. She could feel their judgmental gazes lingering upon her, their whispers like daggers aimed at her wounded heart. Jasleen Bua, Pravjot Bua, and Kiara, in particular, made no effort to conceal their disdain for her.
Jasleen Bua's voice would drip with disdain as she remarked,"Sahiba is nothing more than Angad's mistress, a convenient distraction while he waits for Seerat to return."
Pravjot Bua's laughter would ring out like a mocking chorus, "It's only a matter of time before Angad tires of her and casts her aside like yesterday's news."
And Kiara's taunts would cut through the air like a sharp blade, "What if Sahiba falls pregnant? Will Angad finally acknowledge her as his wife, or will he abandon her and their child?
Each cruel remark served as a reminder of her status in Angad's family, a constant assault on her dignity and self-worth. And yet, despite the pain it caused her, Sahiba remained resilient, determined to hold onto her dignity in the face of adversity.
Sahiba's heart sank as she recalled the day Angad had discovered her taking the contraceptive pill. She had been careful to hide it, knowing that any sign of her desire to avoid pregnancy would only stoke his anger further. But somehow, he had found out, and his reaction had been explosive.
"You dare to take such measures behind my back?" Angad's voice had thundered through the room, his eyes blazing with fury. "Do you think you can defy me and my family's wishes so easily?"
Sahiba had recoiled from his rage, her hands trembling as she tried to explain herself. "I...I just thought..." she had faltered, her words lost in the storm of his anger.
But Angad had cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You thought wrong," he had spat, his voice dripping with contempt. "You will do as I say, Sahiba, or there will be consequences."
Tears welled up in Sahiba's eyes as she remembered the fear and helplessness she had felt in that moment. She had never felt so alone, so utterly powerless in the face of his dominance. And yet, despite the pain and humiliation, she knew that she had no choice but to obey. In Angad's world, her desires and her autonomy mattered little, mere inconveniences to be discarded at his whim.
And then, the final blow came when she dared to question him about the possibility of pregnancy. "Will you keep the child in the storeroom like me?" she had asked, her voice trembling with fear and defiance.
Angad's eyes had narrowed into slits of rage at her audacity, his hand lashing out in a brutal backhand across her face. "How dare you speak to me like that?" he had roared, his voice echoing off the walls. "You will do as I say, Sahiba, or there will be hell to pay."
Sahiba had crumpled to the ground, the sharp sting of his blow radiating through her skull. And as she lay there, bruised and broken, she knew that her nightmare was far from over.
Despite the darkness that enveloped her, Sahiba clung to a fragile sliver of hope, a beacon of light amidst the suffocating abyss of her existence. In moments of solitude, she sought refuge in memories of Daar Ji,Gurleen Chachi, Jaspal Chacha, Ekam, and Veer—beacons of kindness in a world tainted by cruelty. Their unwavering support served as a lifeline, a reminder that amidst the turmoil, there were still those who cared for her.
She remembered one particular morning, when she had woken up in a tangled mess of bruises and tears, the remnants of Angad's rage still fresh on her skin. Gurleen Chachi had been there, her gentle touch applying soothing cream to Sahiba's wounds as she whispered words of comfort and reassurance. "Things will get better, beti," she had said, her voice a balm to Sahiba's battered soul.
Jaspal Singh Brar and his family had always been a source of solace for Sahiba, their kindness a stark contrast to the cold indifference of Angad's immediate family. But despite their warmth and compassion, they were often overlooked and undervalued within the Brar household, overshadowed by the louder voices of Inder, Jasleen, and Pravjot. It was a bitter irony that those who possessed the kindest hearts were often the ones least appreciated in a world blinded by power and prestige.
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