Kavya's pov

Five months. Five months of humiliation, control, and endless shame. Every morning, I had woken to the same cold reality: Kabir’s dark eyes on me, his voice commanding, every inch of my body marked as his. I had called him Sir countless times, obeyed without question, endured the possessive grip of his hands on me, every touch leaving me trembling, ashamed, and utterly powerless.

But today… today I had reached my breaking point. My body ached, my heart raced, and my mind burned with one thought: I will leave. I cannot endure this anymore.

---

I rose from the thin blanket on the marble floor, my limbs stiff, my chest tight with anxiety. Kabir’s voice cut through the room:

“Wife… get up. And don’t waste my time,” he said, low and dangerous.

I obeyed immediately, my hands clutching my saree, my head bowed. My pulse raced—not entirely from fear. Today, my obedience was a mask, a final act to ensure my escape.

He circled me, eyes dark and hungry, scrutinizing every curve of my body. His hand brushed mine while adjusting my saree, lingering, squeezing possessively. My breath hitched, and I forced myself to remain calm.

" Sir,” I whispered, voice trembling. My obedience was a shield; my mind raced, planning every move.

Breakfast was a torturous routine. I moved silently, preparing tea and toast as he liked. His hand brushed my breasts, lingering possessively, making me shiver with shame. Every glance, every touch was a reminder of the life I had endured these five months.

“You’re mine, wife,” he murmured low. “Every inch of you belongs to me.”

I nodded silently, forcing my pulse to calm, focusing on my plan. Today, I would take back my freedom.

---

By midday, he left for the office. My heart pounded. I waited a few tense minutes, listening to the fading roar of his car engine before moving. My chance had come.

I packed a small bag with a few clothes, some documents, and the little money I had hidden. Every step was measured, silent. Every corner of the house felt threatening; every shadow seemed like a guard waiting to catch me.

As I reached the door, his voice rang out suddenly: “Wife… come here.”

Fear surged, but I forced calm. I obeyed, moving slowly, head bowed. He stepped closer, dark eyes burning into mine, hand sliding over my waist, lingering on my chest. My cheeks burned. My breath caught.

“humse door jaana chahti ho huh soch rha hu kaha jaogi vapis us kothe pe ?” he murmured, low and dangerous. “Tum meri ho kavya "

“Yes… Sir,” I whispered, trembling, hiding my determination behind forced obedience.

Once he was distracted by a meeting, I seized the moment. Heart hammering, I slipped out of the house. The streets were quiet, the night air sharp against my skin. Each step was both terrifying and thrilling. Freedom, even temporary, felt intoxicating.

I darted through alleys, pressed against walls, moving like a shadow. My mind replayed every humiliation, every possessive touch, every command, and I clenched my fists. I had survived. I could survive again.

---

By late afternoon, I reached my father’s house. The familiar gates felt foreign and distant, yet they promised safety. My hands shook as I rang the bell.

The door opened immediately. My stepmother’s eyes swept over me, sharp, calculating.

“Kavya? ” she asked , hiding the flicker of curiosity in her tone.

“I… I need to tell papa everything,” I said, voice trembling. “I’ve… I’ve been through something… someone hurt me, and I need to be safe.”

My father appeared behind her, eyes wide in shock. “Kavya? Beta… tum yaha?” His voice trembled, a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“I… I ran away,” I whispered, tears threatening to spill. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay…”

His expression hardened instantly. His voice rose. “tumhe sharm aani chaiye yahan vapis aane mein chli jao yaha se ab kya lene aai ho yha tum "

“I… papa, please, just listen—” I began, but he cut me off.

“Listen? You left me, you left our family!” His eyes blazed. “How could you do this? Where is your respect, Kavya? With some boy? Is that why you disappeared?”

My heart ached. He didn’t know the truth—he couldn’t know. And my stepmother’s knowing smile burned me inside.

But in front of papa she always acted like a good mother she was good at acting "aree bachi kis haal mein hai aap usse yeh toh puch lijiye itne mahino baad aai hai aap aisa kaise kr skte hai " she said to papa i knew her intentions weren't right but at that moment i needed protection and comfort dad looked at me and went inside

My stepmom Anjali took me to my room I was feeling relaxed and safe after months one thought was in my mind why was anjali acting like that in front of papa ...she came with a glass of water and a plate of food " beta mein janti hu mene Jo kia ...tu mujhe maaf nhi kr skti kbhi lekin apne papa ko mt batana Jo bhi hua us bare mein " she said and left the room

Later, I overheard her speaking in hushed, urgent tones: “He needs to know… yes, I have his number…

Who was she speaking to and how she knows about kabir ? My heart was racing I don't want to see him again but papa isn't even listening to me what should I do

My stomach sank. Even here, in what I thought was safety, danger loomed. Kabir might know my location at any moment.

I sank onto my bed, wrapping my arms around my knees, trying to steady my racing heart. The fear of my father’s anger, the looming threat of Kabir