The sky was weeping-miserably, angrily-as if mourning the cruel injustice that fate had inflicted upon them. Thunder cracked through the air like a scream from the heavens, and the wind howled with a fury that shook the world. The balcony doors banged repeatedly against the walls, flung open by the storm's wrath.
Sumitra was lying lifeless on the wet floor. The heavy rain was continuously drenching her already soaked body.
Amidst the chaos, a young servant girl entered the chamber. She wore a black Rajasthani ghagra and choli, with a maroon dupatta draped around her head and shoulders. Her bare feet padded silently on the cold floor. The door had already creaked open when she arrived, as if inviting her into something foreboding.
"Baai sa? Hum andar aa jayein, baai sa?" she called softly, standing hesitantly at the threshold.
(Translation:"Baai sa? May I come in, Baai sa?")
There was no reply-only the roar of thunder.
"Baai sa? Aap andar hain?" she asked again, her voice trembling slightly.
(Translation: "Bai sa? Are you inside?")
Still, no answer.
Stepping in cautiously, her anklets jingled faintly as she took hesitant steps into the room. It was empty-eerily empty. Silence loomed, not the peaceful kind, but the kind that carried weight... as if something had happened... or was about to.
She looked around in confusion, searching for any sign of her mistress.
"Areh, yeh baai sa kahan chali gayi? Bahar bhi nahi thi..." she murmured under her breath, her brows furrowed in concern.
(Translation: "Hey, where has baai sa gone? She wasn't outside either.")
Gripping the sides of her ghagra tightly, she tiptoed toward the wardrobe. Before opening it, she called once more, "Baai sa, aap andar hain?"
(Translation: Bai sa, are you inside?))
No voice answered.
She opened the wardrobe, peering inside, scanning every corner. But it was empty. Confused and anxious now, she stepped back into the center of the room, her heart beginning to race.
Suddenly, thunder cracked again-so loud it felt like the sky was tearing apart. The glass jar on the side table fell to the floor. She flinched, letting out a frightened gasp, her hand flying to her chest.
"Oh God, what is happening? Why is the weather so dreadful today?" she whispered, shivering as a gust of wind whipped her dupatta around. She bent to pick up the broken glass from the floor.
And then-crash! A loud thunderclap split the sky.
The balcony doors slammed open violently. The storm had forced them ajar, and in the flash of a lightning strike, the sky lit up-her eyes fell on the balcony. And there she saw-
Sumitra.
Lying motionless on the rain-soaked balcony floor.
Her heart nearly stopped. For a moment, she couldn't move, couldn't breathe. And then-without thinking-she stood and ran. Rain lashed against her as she stumbled into the storm, nearly slipping on the wet floor. But she held the pillar nearby and again started running towards her.
"Baai sa! Baai sa! Kya hua aapko? Uthiye, baai sa!" she cried out, falling to her knees beside Sumitra.
(Translation: "Baai sa! Baai sa! What happened to you? Please get up, Baai sa!")
Sumitra was lying there unconscious, her face drenched, her hair stuck to her cheeks. Her body was still-too still.
The girl patted her cheeks, shaking her gently. "Hey Bhagwan... kya ho gaya baai sa ko? Uthiye, aankhein kholiye!"
(Translation:"Hey God... what happened to Baai Sa? Please get up, open your eyes!")
Panic consumed her. She tried again and again to rouse her, but Sumitra didn't respond. She patted her cheeks over and over, but she lay lifeless all the same.
Tears mixed with rain as the maid stood up and ran back inside, shouting for help. Her wet clothes clung to her skin, her feet slipping, the broken glass cutting into her foot. A sudden pain shot through her body and she hissed, but she didn't stop.
Outside the room, guards were stationed-men in black, armed and alert, shadows of power ready to hunt on command. As soon as they saw the maid-crying, soaked, breathless, with bruised and bleeding feet-they stiffened.
Without a word, they stormed into the room.
"Ma'am? Ma'am, where are you?" they called out, scanning every corner.
No answer. They only saw some blood on the floor. Their instincts took over.
They rushed to the balcony-and saw her.
Sumitra.
Lying motionless under the wrath of the storm.
One of the guards immediately turned and ran to fetch the daii (midwife), while others called for the household maids. Within minutes, old maids surrounded Sumitra, calling her name, patting her cheeks, trying to bring her back.
"Bahurani! Bahurani, uthiye!" one of the elderly women cried out desperately.
(Translation: "Daughter-in-law! Daughter-in-law, please get up.")
A guard hesitated, then knelt, extending his arms to lift her. But just then-
CRASH!
A sudden burst of energy surged through the air as the doors slammed harder than ever. A voice-dark, powerful, commanding-echoed through the balcony like a god descending from the storm.
"Don't you dare touch her!"
Zamindar Raja Veer Pratap Singh had arrived.
His voice sliced through the air like lightning itself. Everyone froze. Heads bowed instantly. The guard stood up, shaking.
"I-I was only trying to help-"
"Don't. Don't even think." Veer's eyes glowed with rage as he stepped forward, towering, wrathful.
"S-sorry, Malik-"
"Get out. NOW." he roared.
The guard fled instantly.
Veer's eyes then turned to Sumitra-his wife-lying lifeless on the floor. For a moment, he simply stared. His expression was unreadable, yet his gaze was fixed-unmoving-as though she were something sacred... something fragile... something meant to be locked away in a glass cage.
The others watched silently from the corners of their eyes. Why was he only staring? Why wasn't he doing anything?
Suddenly, his expression shifted. His jaw clenched so tight it seemed it might snap. His fists balled at his sides, his face hardening with an emotion darker than fury.
"What are you doing, Veer? Why are you just standing there? Do something!" came a shrill, commanding voice from inside.
It was his mother-Thakurain Damyanti Devi-standing at the doorway of the inner chamber, prayer beads clutched in her hands, lips tight with disdain. She hadn't stepped into the rain-not even to look at Sumitra. Her gaze was cold. The white strands of hair on her forehead showed her age, but there was no sympathy or fear of losing Sumitra anywhere on her face.
"Dekh, kahin mar toh nahi gayi?" she added venomously.
(Translation: "See, she hasn't died, has she?")
The workers and guards exchanged glances at her words, but did nothing.
"Arey, tu khada kyun hai, beta? Utha usse! Agar use kuch ho gaya toh humare vansh ka kya hoga? Hamara waaris chala jaayega uski wajah se!" Her voice trembled-not with fear for Sumitra, but for the unborn heir.
(Translation: "Hey, why are you just standing there, son? Pick her up! If something happens to her, what will become of our lineage? Our heir will be lost because of her!")
How laughable, isn't it?
Veer didn't reply as if he was not even listening to her. He didn't look at her. He simply walked forward, his eyes still locked on Sumitra's face. Then, with surprising gentleness, he scooped her into his arms.
As if she might break.
As if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth.
He carried her inside, laid her carefully on the bed. The others followed but kept their distance, the weight of silence pressing against the walls.
Still staring at her, he gestured with one hand.
The young servant girl-the one who had first found her-stepped forward with her head bowed. But her steps were slower than usual because of the pain in her feet, still untreated. Blood was now trickling down her toes.
"What happened to her?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Sumitra.
"I-I don't kn-know, Malik..." she stammered, her fingers twisting in fear.
"Then how did she end up there?!" he bellowed, his voice like thunder.
"I-I swear, when I came... she was already in that state, Malik..." she sobbed.
His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more.
"Change her clothes. And do not move even an inch from her side until she wakes up. Do you understand?"
"Ji... ji Malik..." she replied with a trembling voice.
He didn't move. He just kept looking at Sumitra's pale, lifeless face-as if searching for answers.
Or maybe he already knew them.
He raised his hand again, and the rest of the people left in silence.
His mother approached, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Chalo, Pratap. Daai ko bula liya hai, woh dekh legi."
But without a word, he shrugged off her hand.
He turned to look at Sumitra one last time, then walked out.
Thakurain Damyanti's face fell with slight disappointment. Her son's rejection stung-but she said nothing. Her eyes briefly met the servant's before she turned and walked away.
Now, only Sumitra and the maid remained.
And soon, the daii entered the room.
______________
It was well past midnight. A heavy, dreadful silence hung over the palace like a curse. Not a single insect dared to chirp, as if even nature held its breath in terror. The only sound was the haunting hum of silence itself.
But amidst that unnerving quiet, from a far, shadowed corner of the palace-a scream tore through the dark.
Inside a dimly lit, grim chamber, a man was bound tightly to a heavy iron chair. Thick metal chains cuffed his wrists and ankles, digging deep into his flesh. His head hung low, almost lifeless, blood dripping from fresh, deep gashes on his swollen face. His blood-soaked clothes clung to his trembling body, the fabric stained dark red with dried and fresh blood alike.
His legs were submerged in a steel tub filled with water-no, not just water-ice-cold water.
Around him stood ten to fifteen men in all-black clothes, their faces emotionless, all in silence, each one a witness to unspeakable cruelty. One of them held a large, gleaming blade-its edge stained and wet. The room was lit only by the occasional flash of lightning through the cracked window. Every strike of thunder illuminated a tall shadow near the wall-standing motionless, his back turned to the tortured man.
Zamindar Raja Veer Pratap Singh.
He had a cigarette in one hand, his face utterly emotionless-a beast cloaked in human skin.
Without a word, he lifted one hand slightly. Four of his fingers of each hands were adorned with large silver rings, each one engraved with a wolf, each representing his victory over a territory.
One of the men walked over, silently handed him a loaded pistol, then stepped back and exited the room. Pratap Singh puffed the cigarette slowly, rolling the gun in his other hand dangerously.
Moments passed.
Then, still puffing on the cigarette, Pratap Singh moved. His boots echoed menacingly on the stone floor as he walked toward the bleeding man in the chair. He stopped just inches from him, staring down at the half-conscious figure with eyes that burned-not with rage, but with something darker... ownership.
Another nod. Another command. One of the guards stepped forward, this time holding a steaming mug.
Without warning, he splashed boiling water straight onto the man's face.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
A scream escaped the man's throat-muffled, hoarse, tortured. His skin sizzled as he convulsed in agony. His eyes fluttered open for a second, then shut tightly again from the unbearable pain.
Pratap Singh leaned down and crushed the burning cigarette into the man's face with force. The man hissed in pain. Pratap tossed the cigarette to the floor, folded his hands behind his back, and whispered in a low, chilling voice-his tone like venom seeping through ice,
"How does it feel? Good... or do you need more help?"
"Ma-maaf kar dijiye, ma-malik... galti ho gayi... p-please, p-please, don't kill me," the man begged, stuttering, each word a desperate gasp. His body was broken-yet his spirit still clung to the tiniest thread of hope.
(Translation: "F-forgive me, m-malik... I made a mistake... p-please, p-please, don't kill me.")
But Pratap Singh only smirked. A cold, bitter laugh escaped his lips as he straightened up again.
"Kill? But I am helping you," he said. "Just like you wanted to help my wife."
That was it-the truth behind this madness.
This man... was the same guard who had tried to help Sumitra. He hadn't touched her-yet still, he was burning under punishment for a mistake he had never even committed.
His only crime was showing kindness. And that had become the last and fatal mistake of his life.
"Ma-maaf kar dijiye, maalik," the man pleaded again, sobbing now. His entire body shook uncontrollably-not just from pain but from fear, a deep, soul-breaking terror.
(Translation: "Fo-forgive me, malik")
But mercy had no place in Veer Pratap Singh's world.
He picked up a knife from the table-long, sharp, unforgiving-and without hesitation, sliced off two of the man's fingers. Blood spurted, and he casually tossed the severed flesh into a nearby acid tub.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NO-NO! Please! PLEASE!"
The man screamed louder now, writhing in agony, his eyes flooding with tears.
Pratap Singh tossed the knife away and grabbed the man by the hair, yanking his head up, forcing him to meet his gaze. His whole face was covered in blood, mixing with the tears that kept flowing from his eyes.
His voice was barely above a whisper, but it echoed with death.
"Maafi? In my reign, there is no forgiveness. Make a mistake-or try to-and suffer the punishment."
The other men stood frozen. Faces pale. Hands trembling. None dared move. None dared speak. Even they were horrified by what they were witnessing.
"And you made the biggest mistake of your life," he said, dangerously close to him.
"Try to touch what's mine," he hissed.
"How dare you try to touch her, you bastard!" he roared and slapped the man with such force that the chair nearly toppled over.
"NO ONE- I repeat, NO ONE-has the right to even look at what's mine-let alone touch it!"
He raised his gun-and shot the man straight in the thigh without any warning.
The man howled. Blood splattered the floor. His body jolted violently.
"She is mine," Pratap Singh growled. He fired the next bullet into the man's hand.
"Mine to love. Mine to touch. Mine to destroy," he growled, firing another bullet into the other hand.
He kept firing-again. And again. Both thighs. Then the shoulder.
No emotion flickered across his face. Only a sick, maddening possessiveness burned in his bloodshot eyes.
The other men exchanged terrified glances, their foreheads damp with the cold sweat of fear. Their master wasn't just cruel.
He was deranged. Obsessed. A monster who would burn the world if someone even breathed near what he called his own.
The man in the chair now hung limp. Blood pooled beneath him. His lips quivered, but no words came out. He was barely alive.
But Pratap Singh wasn't finished.
Another signal. One of the men stepped forward and flipped a switch near the wall.
And then-the room was filled with the crackling sound of electricity.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
The current surged through the wire into the metal tub.
The guard's body jerked violently. Screams turned into strangled cries as he convulsed uncontrollably. Steam rose from the water. His skin began to blister.
And Pratap Singh... laughed.
Not a chuckle. Not a grin.
But a maniacal, monstrous laugh-the laughter of a madman drunk on power.
He raised a hand again. The current was switched off. The man slumped forward.
Still alive.
Barely.
"Not helped enough?" he sneered. "Let's help you more."
Another jolt of electricity. Another round of screams.
Then again.
But this time, there was no sound.
No movement.
Only silence.
The man's lifeless body twitched once, then slumped into eternal stillness. But still, faint breaths escaped unevenly through his nostrils.
Suddenly, from the darkness, two eyes pierced through. All the men froze where they stood.
Veer Pratap looked toward the source. A creature with slow, deliberate steps-two red eyes-emerged from the shadows. It was a massive black wolf. A slow smirk played on Veer Pratap's face.
"Nox", he whispered, looking at the creature.
Suddenly, the beast lunged at the man tied to the chair. With one swift move, it tore off one of his arms. The sound of growling echoed through the room. Nox ripped open the man's body, tearing out his inner organs-but he did not eat them.
Pratap Singh didn't blink. He stared at Nox, his eyes still burning with fury.
"Remember this-whoever dares touch what's mine will suffer the same fate... or worse, Understood?" his voice thundered.
The remaining men, barely able to stand straight while watching Nox's merciless slaughter, replied in trembling, fearful voices:
"Jee... Jee, maalik."
Pratap Singh turned, the gun still clutched in his hand. As he walked away, he threw one final command over his shoulder. Nox stopped and backed away from the man-who was now in unrecognizable pieces-and padded toward his master, his muzzle dripping with blood.
Veer Pratap stopped in his tracks and said,
"Collect his remaining body parts... and send them to his mother. With a farewell card."
And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, Nox trailing behind him-leaving behind a room soaked in blood, fear, and the terrifying silence of death.
------------
š«Warning- Mature content ahead(Marital rape and sexual assault)
Pratap Singh walked through the dark hallway, his face filled with fury and something even darker. He reached a chamber and opened the door with great force. The gate burst open.
Inside the chamber, Sumitra, now conscious, sat on the bed with her head resting against the bedrest. The maid sat beside her on a chair, head bowed low. At the sudden noise, both jolted and looked at the man standing before them, whose face reflected nothing but pure rage. Without a word, the maid hurried out with trembling lips and shivering legs.
Sumitra looked at him with fearful eyes and clutched the duvet tightly in her fists.
He walked toward her with quick, heavy steps and stood in front of her. She began to shiver under the intensity of his gaze.
"Enough of your talking session with him?" he said, and she immediately looked up at him with teary eyes.
She didnāt respond, and tears began to stream down her face. Seeing her state, he seemed to understand something. He ran a hand through his hair and suddenly, in anger, dropped to one knee on the bed beside her. She shifted away slightly, still gripping the duvet.
"You still havenāt forgotten him?" he whispered dangerously.
She immediately looked down.
He screamed and snatched the duvet from her hands, throwing it onto the floor. He kicked the side table violently, sending the water jug crashing onto the ground. She trembled at his sudden outburst, crawling back slowly with her hands, trying to distance herself.
He grabbed her hair in his fists and roared, "I'll teach you today how to forget someone."
Yanking her hair, he stood up and walked to the door, slamming it shut and locking it.
She began trembling even more, but her fear had no effect on him.
āNo-no-no-no, please no,ā she cried, trembling in place.
He turned to look at her, and with furious, hurried steps, walked back and grabbed her by the shoulders.
āPlease, no,ā she pleaded helplessly, but there was no mercy in his eyes.
He yanked her body onto the bed forcefully.
A loud scream escaped her lips as she fell onto her back. Tears streamed down her face.
He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to the floor, revealing his bare chest. He jumped onto the bed and hovered over her, slamming his lips onto hers in fury, devouring her lips with urgency.
She didnāt respond, only cried and tried to push him off. Her baby bump pressed against his chest, but he showed no gentleness. His kisses were animalistic. He bit her lower lip hard, drawing bloodābut he didnāt stop. He continued kissing her forcefully, pinning her hands under his.
Her eyes filled with tears, turning red from crying.
After a moment, he pulled back, her blood staining his lips.
āPlea-please noā¦ plea-please donāt do this,ā she sobbed, joining her hands in front of him.
But he was already drowning in rage and jealousy. He didnāt see her plea.
Grabbing her dress by the shoulder, he tore it with full force. The fabric ripped from the top, half of it falling away, exposing her completely. She immediately tried to cover herself, hugging her body, but he forcefully grabbed both her hands in one hand and removed the rest of her dress.
āBahut shauk hai tumhe use yaad karne ka?huh!!ā he hissed, and threw her dress to the floor with rage. He slapped her hard on her face.
(Translation: "You really enjoy remembering him? huh")
Her face tilted sharply to the side, the red imprint of his slap burning against her pale skin. Her breath trembled, but before she could avert her gaze, his rough hands clamped her face, forcing her eyes to meet his.
"But I will not let you remember him, Bulbul", he growled, his voice like a venomous hiss, "because I own your mind."
His words dripped with possession, his grip tightening as though he could crush her will with his fingers alone.
Without warning, she lunged forward, sinking her teeth deep into his shoulder. The taste of salt and metal filled her mouth as he hissed in pain. His body jerked, and he staggered back a single step ā enough for her to shove him away with all the strength her trembling arms could muster.
Her legs barely obeyed her as she slid off the bed, every movement heavy with exhaustion and defiance. She made for the edge, gasping for air ā but his eyes found her in an instant. That look. That dark, unblinking glare that froze the blood in her veins.
In two strides, he was on her. His hand shot out, tangling in her hair and yanking so hard her neck jerked backward.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed, the sound raw, tearing through the room.
With a vicious pull, he dragged her back, throwing her onto the bed. She landed on her back with a thud, the air forced from her lungs. Her eyes clamped shut against the stabbing pain in her scalp, her chest heaving.
He stood over her, towering, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his fists clenched. His face twisted ā not just in anger, but something darkerā¦ something hungry.
"Do you think you can run from me?" he snarled, his shadow swallowing her whole. "Par bhagogi kahan tak, Bulbul? Jahan jaogi, wahan mujhe paaogi..." he whispered with a smirk, his fingers softly caressing her cheeks.
(Translation: "But how far can you run, Bulbul? Wherever you go, you will find me there.")
She turned her face away, trembling, her hands clutching the sheets as if they could anchor her.
"Kyunki... main tumhari nason mein zeher ki tarah phail chuka hoon... jo tumhe dheere-dheere khatam karega. Lekin... main tumhe khatam nahi hone dunga." His palm slammed down beside her head, making the bed tremble beneath her.
(Translation: "Becauseā¦ I have spread through your veins like poisonā¦ the kind that will slowly destroy you. Butā¦ I will never let you be destroyed.")
"Because I am not done with you... I want to see you stained with my poison, just like I am drenched in your addiction," he murmured, burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, his eyes closed in lust.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, her mind screaming for escapeāyet her body was trapped in his cage.
"Ummm... why are you so addictive, Bulbul... You are so fucking mine..." he whispered hoarsely, while her mind screamed in terror and her body cried in pain.
"I... I can never be yours. I belong to him only," she whispered, her eyes squeezing shut from the pain caused by his weight pressing down on her.
His eyes snapped open, fury burning in them.
"Don't you dare... Bulbul," he growled, gripping her jaw tightly and forcing her face toward him. Her eyes remained shut, but tears slipped silently from their corners.
"You belong to me... only me," he roared.
He looked at her for some moments in fury. And then he crushed his lips against hersānot kissing, but devouring. She pushed desperately against his chest, but her strength failed against his force.
"You are only mine. I own you," he groaned between the bruising kisses.
"Your every thought is reserved for me... and only me," he hissed moving back from her lips.
Her nails dug into the sheets until they nearly tore the fabric, her breath coming in shallow, panicked bursts. Every nerve in her body screamed for release, but his shadow loomed over her like a cage without a key.
"Even your silenceā¦ belongs to me," he whispered, his voice low but dripping with madness. His thumb brushed away a tearānot in tenderness, but as though claiming even that drop as his possession.
Her lips trembled, but she didnāt speak. She knew words only fueled his fire.
"I know," he murmured with a twisted smile, "you think of him. Even nowā¦ when I am this closeā¦ you dream of his touch." His face inched nearer, his breath scorching her skin. "But I will burn those dreams to ash, Bulbul. I will erase his name from your soul until thereās nothing left but me."
He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other tracing a slow, taunting path down her throat, stopping over her heartbeat.
"See how it races?" His smile widened. "Not for him. For me."
A choked sob escaped her throat, but she turned her face toward the wall, refusing to let him see the terror in her eyes.
His jaw tightened. "Look at me," he ordered. When she didnāt, his grip on her wrists tightened until she winced. "Lookā¦ atā¦ me."
Slowly, with all the defiance she could summon, she opened her eyesānot with fear, but with a glint of hatred that cut sharper than any blade.
For the first time, his smirk faltered.
But then, leaning closer, his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Hatred is still a form of possession, Bulbul. And Iāll take it. Iāll take every shred of youā¦ until nothing remains for anyone else."
Outside, the wind howled against the windows, the room heavy with the scent of fear, lust, and something far more dangerousāobsession that had no end.
Her nails bit deeper into the sheet, the fabric now frayed where sheād been clinging, as though the thin cloth was the only anchor keeping her from drowning in him.
He shifted, his weight pressing into the mattress, trapping her completely. His gaze roamed her face as though memorizing every twitch, every flicker of rebellion.
"You think this is a prison," he murmured, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. "But prisons have walls. Iā¦ have roots. You canāt break free from something that grows inside you."
Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. She could feel the heat of him, the quiet threat in his nearness.
"I can feel it," he murmured, his thumb dragging over the pulse in her neck with maddening slowness, each stroke claiming her heartbeat as his own. "Every beatā¦ whispering that youāre still mine. Thatās why I donāt care if you fight me. Fight. Scream. Hate. It only makes you more real to me."
Her voice, hoarse from silence, cracked free before she could stop it. "Youāll never have my soul."
Something flickered in his eyesābrief, unguarded. Regret? Hurt? She couldnāt tell. Then it was gone, replaced by a smile so slow and cold it made her spine lock.
"Your soul?" he breathed, leaning closer until his breath slid against her ear. "Oh, Bulbulā¦ I donāt need to keep it. I just need to break it. So that whateverās left is useless to anyone else."
His fingers sank into her hair, winding tightānot quite pain, but a reminder: even the tilt of her head belonged to him.
"The moment I saw you," he whispered, his voice dropping into something dangerous, "you became mine."
"I knowā¦ you think about me just like I think about you. I know you ache for my touch, the way I ache for yours," he said, a fevered smile twisting his face as his fingertip traced an unhurried line along her throat.
Her response was sharp and deliberateāshe spat in his face. He stilled, eyes closing as if the act physically pierced him. Slowly, he wiped it away. When his gaze found hers again, her disgust was a blade she didnāt bother to hide.
"Youāre a psychoā¦ a man who only knows how to destroy. No one could ever love you. No one would even want to be near you. Youāre a monster," she hissed, her voice trembling but steady in aim.
He smirked, lips curling into something that pretended to be amused. He leaned in, brushing his mouth against hersāsoft, deliberate. She jerked her head away. His hand caught her face again, deceptively gentle, thumb brushing her cheek like a loverās caress.
"This," he murmured, his maniacal smile widening, "is why I love you. Because even your defiance makes me want youā¦ more, and more, and more, every single time."
His tone shifted, slow and coaxing, like a knife hidden under silk. "But tell me, Bulbulā¦ why does this fire only burn for him? Hmm? Why do you think about him?"
"Because I love him. I love my Shravan, not you," she spat, her voice loud enough to slice the air between them.
The name hit him like a lash. His jaw clenched. His breathing quickened.
"Shravanā¦ Shravanā¦ Shravan!" His roar cracked the air, followed by a brutal slap that spun her head sideways. The sting bloomed instantly, his fingers burning into her skin.
"Why isnāt my love enough for you? Why?" His voice broke into something unhinged as he struck her again. And again. The rhythm of his rage blurred into one endless strike.
Thenāstillness.
He stood there, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on her battered face.
"You love me," he whispered, but there was nothing soft in it. "Only me. Samjhi tum? You have to love only me if you want or not, it doesn't matter to me"
She froze. She had seen this beforeāthe storm behind his eyes, the madness that swallowed the man whole. The same madness that had once dragged her into hell and never let her leave.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "Noā¦ noā¦ noā¦ noā¦" she whispered, voice cracking into panic.
But he only leaned closer, eyes glittering with the quiet, patient cruelty of a predator who knows his prey has nowhere left to run.
He again slammed his lips on hers. He was kissing-nipping-sucking her and then left her lips. Her lips were swollen and red now from kissing and nuzzling. He moved towards her neck and started kissing her neck hard. She was trying to remove his weight from her already emaciated body but he kept his body pressed on her. He was biting her neck hard again and again and she was just crying out of pain and helplessness.
"Please don't do this, it's hurting,please, I am pregnant please-please don't do this....ahhhhhhhhhhh", she cried in pain and screaming in helplessness.
But he turned a deaf ear. He grabbed one of her breasts with one hand and squeezed it hard and took the other breast in his mouth and started sucking it harshly.
"Please no-no please don't do this please", she was crying and pleading him.
She tried to push him away from her but he grabbed both her hands in one hand and placed them above her head and squeezed them so hard that the cracking sound echoed in the empty room.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......maaaa......", a loud painful scream left her mouth but he paid no attention to her.
He caught both her hands and tied them tightly with his belt.
The whole palace was just echoing with her screams. Every corner of the palace was witnessing her sorrow, but no one was able to stop it. All the servants and people of the palace were listening to her screams and some wanted to help her, but they were scared because one wrong move could lead them to destruction. But Somewhere in the silence of the screams, someone was grieving with her every scream bounded in chains....chains of helplessness and guilt.
When nothing worked, then At last , Now all her energy was drowned and she fell stilled on the bed.Ā Her tears were still continuously flowing from her eyes. And she was just looking at the ceiling of the roof. Her hands which were trying to protest were now felt numb.
He was sucking her nipple and then the other nipple and then again the other. He was sucking eating and biting her nipples that it left dark red and purple marks on her chest.
He left her nipple and sat straight and looked at her who was now showing no emotions and just continuosly looking at the ceiling.
"I did everything for you Bulbul and now i will not let you remember him", he said and removed his pants. And howered over her.
"I will paint you in my Love. Every time you forget it, i will make you remember it", he said with an evil smile while positioning himself between her legs.
He placed his cock in the entrance of her core and pushed hard with a swift move. But her faceāit was all emotionless like she already accepted her fate.
He was moving in and out and started kissing her harshly on her nipple and then her neck and then her lips.
"Next time Don't you dare to think about anyone else. Every thought, every cell in your brain, every vein in your body, every damn blood cell, there should be only one name and it should be mine...only mine.....", he groaned and started thrusting more harshly like an animal.
He was thrusting violently without even care about her conditionāwithout even care about her baby. Her body was jolting with the thrust. Her eyes still glued to the ceiling and tears continuously flowing from them.
"Don't you" Thrust "dare" thrust "to" thrust "think" thrust "about him" again "thrust".
With a final thrust her released inside her. And looked at her without any emotion on his face.
"If you ever think about him again, rememberāI could do more than this, and I donāt need to prove it to you. You already know what More I can do," he whispered, gripping her cheeks harshly in one hand. She lay motionless beneath his touch.
The man who claimed her as his showed no mercy. He said he loved her, but was that truly love? To him, she was nothing more than an object he had won in some twisted game. There was no compassion in his heartānot for her, not even for the child she carried. His soul was drowning in possession, jealousy, insecurity, and obsession.
He pressed his lips to hersālips torn and bleeding. Blood oozed onto his mouth, and he wiped it away with his thumb.
Without another word, he rose from the bed, dressed, and left without so much as a glance in her direction.
The gate slammed shut with a violent thud. She lay there, tears streaming silently, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The young maid entered the room hurriedly, and upon seeing her in that state, her own tears began to fall. She rushed forward, unclasped the belt that bound Sumitraās wrists, covered her with the duvet, and wrapped her in a side embrace, crying softly.
"Baii sa?" she called gently, but Sumitra did not respond, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling. The maid began to stroke her arm slowly.
"Baii sa, sab thik hai... aap chinta mat karo, sab thik ho jayega," she whispered, though in her heart she knew there would be no end to this suffering.
(Translation: āBaii sa, everything is fineā¦ donāt worry, everything will be alright.ā)
Suddenly, Sumitra let out a dry, broken cry. Her body began to shake uncontrollably, and she sobbed with her eyes wide open, as though trapped in a nightmare.
She screamed in agony, and the maid could only hold her tighter, murmuring, "Shhh, Baii sa... chup ho jaiye, please chup ho jaiye... sab thik ho jayega."
(Translation: "Shhh, Bai Sa... please be quiet, please be quietā¦ everything will be fine.")
But nothing worked. Sumitra clutched the bedsheet with her bruised wrists, crying harder. Blue marks stood out against her torn skin, and the injuries on her neck and body told of the brutality she had endured. The maid stepped back, her hand covering her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks. She hurried to the wardrobe and fetched a clean maxi dress.
Pulling the duvet away gently, she froze.
Bloodāfresh, bright redāwas flowing from Sumitraās lower body.
Her breath caught. She looked from the blood to Sumitraās tear-streaked face and back again. The blood did not stop.
"Hey Bhagwan..." she whispered through trembling fingers. She ran to fetch cotton and tried to stem the flow, but it was useless.
"Ab main kya karu?" she muttered to herself, panic rising.
(Translation: "What should I do now"?)
"Bass thoda sa rukiye, Baii sa... main abhi aati hu," she said before running out.
(Translation: "Just wait a little, Baii sa... Iāll be right back.")
Inside the room, Sumitraās cries echoed. Her eyes remained open and unblinking, her body convulsing in pain.
Her fate had always endured brutality, but thisāthis was a cruelty that went beyond flesh.
The door creaked open again. An old woman of about eighty shuffled in, her pure white hair tied back, her wrinkled face etched with worry. Her hands shook as she approached, the young maid right behind her.
"Daii maa, please do something! Look, the blood is not stopping, and Baii sa is shivering so much... please, Daii maa, do something!" the maid pleaded.
For a moment, the old woman could only stareāat Sumitraās body, at the blood, at the bruises.
"Daii maa, what happened? Please do something!" the maid begged, shaking her slightly. The old woman blinked, returning to herself.
"Go and cover her upper body with a blanket," she instructed. Kneeling beside Sumitra, she began wiping the blood, but it only flowed faster. Sumitraās cries grew heavier.
Then the bleeding surged, accompanied by sharper waves of pain. Sumitraās body shook, her vision blurring as agony gripped her.
"Hey Bhagwan... how is this happening? Itās just her eighth month," the old woman murmured, horrified.
"Kya hua, Daii maa?" the maid asked anxiously. But the midwifeās focus stayed on Sumitra, whose broken wrists reached desperately for something to hold.
(Translation: what happened, daii maa?)
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" Sumitra screamed.
"Go fast and call the other midwives!" the old woman ordered. The maid rushed out but halted at the doorway, startled by a tall man dressed in all black, a gun in his hand.
"Baii-baii sa... she-sheā" the maid stammered.
"Shhh... Bela, calm down," he said, cupping her cheeks. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. He wiped her tears. " Do whatever she said and rest I'll handle,okay?", She nodded and hurried away, and he walked off in the other direction.
The guard soon stood at the entrance to Veer Pratapās chamber.
"Come in," came the voice from inside.
The guard entered with his head bowed. Veer Pratap sat with a glass of alcohol, not looking up. His eyes were fixed in a particular directionāa large portrait.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Malik, Malkin is in labour. The midwife says the birth has to be done today because her condition is worsening," the guard reported.
Veer Pratap met his eyes briefly, then waved him away. He stood from his place with the glass in his hand.
Draining his drink in one go, he walked toward the large framed portrait on the wall. His fingers brushed the canvas as if it were delicate silk.
In Sumitraās chamber, three or four elderly midwivesāeach in her seventies or eightiesāmoved urgently. Two stayed near Sumitra, who was screaming in pain.
"Bela, cover her upper part," the midwife instructed sharply. Without delay, Bela obeyed, struggling to make her wear a loose shirt because Sumitra was in so much pain, her body slowly giving up.
"This is not the time, Chandrakala... itās only her eighth month," another said.
Bela held her hand. Sumitraās grip tightened, but Bela didnāt flinch; she kept soothing her with comforting words. She listened to the midwivesā conversation, tears falling freely as she watched Sumitra struggling for her life.
"I know, but her condition is worsening. If we donāt act now, we wonāt be able to save either of them," Chandrakala replied, trembling, sweat beading on her brow.
They gripped Sumitraās hands, one midwife circling her belly in an attempt to soothe her.
"But what if, in the attempt to save both, weāre not able to saā" The midwife stopped mid-sentence at the sound of a roaring voice.
"Donāt you dare complete that sentence," he roared, striding into the room. All the women lowered their heads in fear.
He stepped toward Sumitra, who was crying in pain, her eyes tightly shut.
He held her hand and squeezed it gently, whispering softly, "Donāt worryā¦ nothing will happen to you, Bulbul..."
Then he leaned closer to her ear and whispered with a smirk, "Not until I am aliveā¦ because your suffering is not done yet. Thereās more than what youāve seen in your life till now."
He stood still, watching her writhe in pain. Her eyes opened for a moment and met hisāwith nothing but hatred and fear.
"I want her aliveāor none of you will see the next sunrise," he roared dangerously.
All the midwives exchanged fearful glances, but none spoke.
"Understood or not?" he barked again, his eyes burning.
"Jii-jii Ma-Malik," they all replied in trembling voices.
He glanced at Sumitra again, pressed a hard kiss on her lips, and left.
Bela quickly closed the door. Her heart poundedānot from his warning, but from fear for Sumitraās condition.
She went to Sumitra, holding her hand tightly and soothing it with her other hand.
"Calm down, Bai sa, you will survive this too. We are with you, donāt be afraid," she murmured, but Sumitra kept clenching her hands in pain, her head tossing side to side in desperation.
"Bela, go and bring the hot water and cotton," Chandrakala instructed. Bela nodded immediately and rushed to the bathroom.
Chandrakala moved to Sumitraās side, circling her womb with both hands, watching carefully. The other women continued their work.
Sumitra clutched the bedsheet tightly, her eyes squeezed shut from the pain.
"What happened, Chandrakala?" one of the midwives asked.
"Sheās too weak, and it seems the babyās head is entangled in the umbilical cord," she said fearfully. The other midwife gasped and covered her mouth in horror.
"Oh my Godā¦ now what will we do, Chandrakala?" she asked, watching Sumitraās eyes slowly closing.
She went to her side, caressing her face. Sumitraās breath grew uneven, her eyes heavy, though she tried to keep them open.
"Ankhein band na karo, Bahurani, nahi toh bahut mushkil ho jayegi," she whispered while stroking her face.
(Translation: "Donāt close your eyes, Bahurani, or else it will become very difficult.")
"Ple-please sa-save my ba-baby, plea-please," Sumitra murmured, her lips trembling.
"Donāt worry, Bahurani, we are trying our best. Just donāt close your eyes, pleaseāplease stay with us," she coaxed.
Bela returned with the hot water and cotton, placing them on the table before hurrying back to Sumitraās side.
Chandrakala kept massaging Sumitraās womb in slow circles.
"We have to do something now," she said, moving toward Sumitraās legs with trembling steps.
"Bahurani, push slowly," she instructed, dipping cotton into the hot water and pressing it gently to soften the opening.
Sumitra tried to push, clutching Belaās hand tightly. As she pushed, her head tilted back, her face and body drenched in sweat, her skin turning red.
"I-I canāt," she cried, her eyes closing.
"You can, Bahurani! Please donāt close your eyes!" Chandrakala urged, circling her hands more firmly on her womb.
"Bai sa, please donāt close your eyesātry to push, for your baby, Bai sa, pleaseāplease push," Bela begged desperately, caressing her face.
"Push, Bahurani, please push!" Chandrakala said, wiping away the blood flowing from her core.
Sumitra pushed again with a loud scream. With that push, dark fluid mixed with water broke from her womb.
"Just like this, Bahurani, again, push!" Chandrakala encouraged, while another midwife massaged her womb to guide the babyās position.
Chandrakala slid one finger inside to widen the opening, then added another.
"Now push, Bahurani," she said, stroking her thigh gently.
Sumitra pushed after a pause, gasping for air.
"I can see the headāyes, just like this, push, Bahurani," Chandrakala remarked, removing one finger while keeping the other in place. Above it, the babyās head was now visible.
Sumitra pushed again, and slowly, the whole head emerged. But her energy was fading, and her eyes began to close.
"No, no, no, Bahurani, donāt close your eyesāweāre so close! Please donāt give up!" Chandrakala cried desperately, removing her finger.
Bela tried to keep her awake, her own hand stained red from Sumitraās grip.
Then Chandrakala and the others gasped. The babyās face was still wrapped in the cord, its skin turning red.
"Bahurani, open your eyes, please! Otherwise we canāt save your baby! Bela, keep her awake!" one midwife urged.
"Bai sa, please get upāplease!" Bela pleaded, slapping her cheeks softly.
"Hey Bhagwanā¦ like this we will lose both. Bahurani, please open your eyesāfor your baby!" Chandrakala begged, carefully trying to free the cord.
Sumitraās eyes opened slowly, a scream escaping her lips.
"Yes, Bai sa, pleaseāstay with us!" Bela said, her voice trembling.
"Bahurani, one last tryāplease, push!" Chandrakala instructed. With a deep breath, Sumitra pushed, clutching Belaās hand with all her strength while another midwife held her other hand.
With that push, the head came fully out, then the right shoulder, but the baby got stuck again.
"Bahurani, for the last timeādonāt give up now! Push with all your strength!" Chandrakala urged, holding the babyās half-exposed body and finally freeing the cord from its neck without breaking it.
She managed to release it, but the babyās skin had already turned blue.
Sumitra gave one final, hard push, jerking on the bed with a thud, and the baby came out completely.
Blood still flowed.
"Scissors," Chandrakala ordered. Another midwife handed them to her, and she cut the umbilical cord, then wrapped the baby in a towel.
The newborn was completely blue, drenched in blood.
"Itāsā¦ itās a g-girl, Bahurani," Chandrakala stammered, glancing at Sumitra, who lay with her eyes closedābut a faint smile touched her lips when she heard it.
Tense glances passed among the women.
"Daiā¦ Dai Maa, whyā¦ why is the baby not crying?" Bela whispered, her lips trembling as she looked at the lifeless child in her hands.
Chandrakala and the others stared at the silent baby, her blue skin unmoving.
Sumitraās eyes fluttered open. She stared at her child, her face pale, mind numb.
Chandrakala patted the babyās back again and again, but nothing worked.
"Wake up, baby, please wake up," she begged desperately, but still there was no response.
She held the baby in one hand, opened her lips with the other, and tried to give mouth-to-mouth breathsābut nothing.
Tears filled her eyes, but Sumitra continued to stare at her baby without blinking.
"Dai Maaā¦ what ha-happened?" Bela murmured, looking from Chandrakala to Sumitra, who lay like a statue.
"Iā¦ I am so sorry, Bahurani," Chandrakala whispered.
The other women gasped, covering their mouths.
The silence in the room hung heavy, like a breathless earth. All the women present held their breath in their throats, their hands flying to their mouths with loud gasps. Chandrakala was holding the baby girl in her arms, tears streaming down her eyes. Sumitra lying frozen in her place. She didnāt even blinkājust stared at her baby, as if she had lost her world all over again. As if the tiny spark in her life had once more betrayed her.
Bela shook her gently. āBai sa?ā Her voice broke; she had no words. She couldnāt soothe her, for the pain Sumitra was enduring had no balm. Bela only cried, looking at Sumitra, who was half-lying on the bed.
Suddenly, without blinking, Sumitra rose from the bed. Her body was half-dead, drained and weak, blood still flowing from her wombābut she cared for nothing. Bela held her hand.
āBai sa, pleaseā¦ abhi aapki haalat theek nahi hai,ā she tried to explain, but Sumitra did not listen.
With Belaās support, she staggered towards Chandrakala. Her legs shook uncontrollably, but she did not stop.
She halted in front of Chandrakala and raised both hands to take her baby and without a momentās hesitation, she took the child in her arms. Her legs trembled, but Bela held her tightly.
āMe-meri ba-bacchiiā¦ ye-yeh so kyun ra-rahi hai? Uth-uthao na is-iskoā¦ uth-uthao!ā she murmured, lips trembling, as her tearful eyes shifted between her baby and Chandrakala. The rest of the women pressed their palms to their mouths, crying silently.
āUth-uthao na is-isko!ā she pleaded again through her tears, looking at Chandrakala. But Chandrakala turned her face away, covering her mouth with her saree.
āBa-bai saā¦ yehā¦ yeh ab na-nahi uth-uthegi,ā Bela whispered, holding Sumitra tightly, refusing to let her fragile body fall.
āNa-nahi uth-uthegi? Ky-kyun na-nahi uth-uthegi? Huh?ā Sumitraās lips trembled as she clutched her baby tightly to her chest, her mind slipping into a haze of disbelief.
She kept staring at the child in her arms. The babyās skin had turned blue by now, her tiny head fallen lifelessly to the side.
āBe-becauseā¦ she-she is de-dead, Bai sa,ā Bela whispered shakily, her eyes shut tight, her head bowed low.
Sumitra looked at Bela with confused, vacant eyes. Bela did not meet her gaze, but still held on to her, keeping her from collapsing.
āDe-dead?ā Sumitra repeated with trembling lips, her voice breaking, as her eyes drifted back to her baby.
"She is dead."
To be continued.......
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