Sensitive content ahead. Reader's discretion is advised.

*****

Nitya

As the car slows to a stop, my heart begins to race, pounding in my chest with a fear I can't control.

We are back at Prathamji's house, and dread fills within me as I realize I'll now have to face his family.

Prathamji must have sensed my terror because he leans down and whispers in my ear, "It's okay, Nitya. You don't need to be afraid. I'm right here with you."

Although his voice is soothing, it is unable to chase away the panic rising within me.

The images of Maaji and Chachiji's faces flash in my mind. The way they always seemed to look down on me, as if I wasn't good enough to be Prathamji's wife and their daughter in law.

What will they think now, when they'll see me like this, broken and humiliated?

I want to run, to hide from their judgement and taunts, but there is nowhere to go.

"I.... I can't," I stammer, my voice trembling as I clutch the blanket that's draped around me. "I can't face them, Prathamji. Not like this."

He strokes me hair, trying to soothe me, but I'm unable to relax. I'm unable to lessen the panic that's rising within me with each passing second.

"I won't let anyone hurt you, Nitya. I promise you," he says.

Even though he is right here with me, his words feel distant, unable to reach the part of me that's drowning in shame and fear.

I have been through so much already, and the thought of standing before his family, of letting them see the mess I have become, is too much to bear.

What if they blame me?

"I f-feel so s-scared," I whisper, more to myself than to Prathamji.

"I know," Prathamji whispers back, his voice full of such tenderness that it tugs at my heart. "But you are not alone, Nitya. I'll be right by your side."

Although I nod at him, the fear still doesn't go away.

And when he holds me closer to him and climbs down from the car, all I do is cling to him, wishing more than anything that I could disappear, that I didn't have to face what's coming next.

*****

As Prathamji carries me into the living room, I stiffen, feeling everyone's eyes on me, their gazes burning through the blanket Prathamji wrapped around me to protect my dignity.

I slowly raise my head to look at them, and I feel my breath catching in my throat as I take in their expressions—shock, horror, confusion.

Dhritiji rushes to me, her eyes wide with worry as she stares at me. "Bhabhi, what happened?" She asks, her hands hovering over me as if she wants to touch me but is afraid it might hurt me.

I keep mum, unable to say anything because I'm too lost in my own misery.

"Call the doctor," Prathamji tells her instead, not waiting for my response, perhaps because he knows I'm feeling too overwhelmed to say anything. "Tell her it's an emergency," he adds.

Nodding at him and giving me one worried glance, she goes to call the doctor.

Prathamji steps further inside the room and gently sets me down on the couch.

I try to curl my body, wanting to make myself as small as possible, as I continue feeling everyone's eyes on me.

No one says a word and the silence stretches on for a few moments, before Maaji's voice breaks it.

"What have you done?" She spits, her voice dripping with venom, eyes narrowing as she takes in my disheveled appearance. "How could you disgrace our family like this?"

Her words hit me like a slap to the face, and I flinch, my body trembling. I try to shrink further into myself, wishing I could vanish.

"What kind of woman lets herself get into a situation like this?" Chachiji chimes in, her voice just as venomous as Maaji's. "She must have led Uday on, enticed him with her ways. Otherwise, why would a good person like him act like this?"

"You are right, Surekha," Maaji says to Chachiji and turns to me.

"You have brought nothing but shame to this family," she tells me. "How dare you provoke our guest, make him do this to you, then have the audacity to come here in this state?" She glares at me. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

The accusations cut through me like a knife, sharp and unyielding.

I want to scream at them. I want to tell them that they are wrong.

But the burning shame within me, intensified by their words, are crushing me under their weight. It continues to squeeze me and fill me with doubt.

Are they right? Was this my fault?

I shake my head, trying to ward off the guilt those questions brought.

It can't be. Because I never did anything to provoke Uday. I always ran away whenever he came to talk with me.

"That's enough," Prathamji snaps, his voice strong and commanding, startling me out of my thoughts. "I won't tolerate anyone disrespecting my wife."

He kneels in front of me and clasps my trembling hand with his.

"Nitya didn't do anything wrong," he continues in a firm and unwavering tone. "She was the one who was kidnapped and tortured, and yet, you are blaming her? How dare you?"

The room falls silent, and Prathamji's grip tightens in my hand, the pressure and from it and his warmth providing me with comfort. But the way he is looking at Maaji and Chachiji, I can sense the fury radiating off him. He is angry—no, he is beyond angry—and his anger is directed at his mother and aunt.

"Listen to m—" Maaji begins after a few seconds, but Prathamji cuts her off.

"No, you listen to me," he says, his voice loud. He stands up, squeezes my hand, and blinks reassuringly at me before walking to the center of the room where Maaji stood.

"You can see Nitya's condition, can't you, Maa? The bruises on her face are enough to let us know what she must have suffered. And yet, instead of supporting her, instead of showing her the care and kindness she needs, you are accusing her?" He asks, his voice shaking with fury. "You told her she should be ashamed of herself. But I feel it's not her but you who should be ashamed of yourself. Ashamed of how you are treating Nitya, of how disgusting your thoughts are."

Hearing him, my eyes well up with tears. But this time, it's not just from pain—it's also because of the raw emotion that I can hear in Prathamji's voice. The way he is defending me, the way he is standing up for me, it overwhelms me.

Maaji, however, looks shocked, as if she can't believe Prathamji is speaking to her that way.

"You are getting angry now, but what will you do when people start talking about her?" She snaps at him. "What will you do when they also start saying the same things Surekha and I just said?"

"I don't care about what people will say," Prathamji counters. "I only care about Nitya. And right now, she needs support, not your thoughtless judgement."

"Seriously, Pratham?" Chachiji speaks, shaking her head at him. "You are being rude to your mother for this girl? She is not even pure anymore."

"ENOUGH, CHACHI," Prathamji shouts, his voice laced with such fury that I shiver due to it even though it's not directed at me. "Don't you dare utter one more word against Nitya."

The force of his words makes everyone go quiet, and I can feel all their eyes on me again. I lower my head, unable to face them anymore. I feel too tired, too hurt. I just want to fade away and escape the pain that's eating me alive.

But then, Prathamji comes to sit beside me on the couch, then moving his hand to my face, he gently lifts my chin so that I'm looking into his eyes. His expression softens as he wipes the tears from my face, careful not to press on the bruises.

"Don't let them get to you, Nitya," he says, his voice firm but tender. "None of this was your fault. Do you hear me? Nothing was your fault."

I hear him, but I also hear Chachiji's voice ringing in my ears.

"Am I really not pure anymore, Prathamji?"

He shakes his head and pulls me into his arms. "Don't let them make you doubt yourself, Nitya," he says, stroking my hair. "You were, are, and will always be pure to me. You don't need to give your character certificate to me or to anyone else."

His words are fierce, protective, and for a moment, I see a flicker of light trying to pave its way into my darkness.