After returning from the market, Priya felt... different.

Rudra expected the usual-her flinches, her nervous glances, her silent obedience-but Priya didn't respond. She didn't even look at him as he entered the bedroom. She moved about quietly, performing her duties-cleaning, arranging the house, making sure everything was in order-but something inside her had shifted.

She focused on herself.

Early the next morning, she quietly retrieved a few coins from the dowry money her father had given. She had seen where her mother-in-law kept it and taken only enough for small purchases-simple things that made her happy. No one noticed. No one questioned.

With that little freedom in her hands, Priya began caring for herself. She combed her hair carefully, applied oil, dressed neatly, and even went to the temple in the mornings. She smiled at neighbors, spoke to them kindly, and began enjoying small pleasures she had long denied herself.

She went to the market alone sometimes, buying a few bangles, flowers, or fruits-not for Rudra, not for her mother-in-law, but for herself. She came home with a bright saree, she chose herself, little joys that reminded her she still had a life of her own.

Priya seemed happy. For the first time in months, she felt alive again.

Her mother-in-law noticed first.

"Look at her," she whispered to Rudra one evening. "She moves around like she owns the village. She goes to the market, talks to everyone, buys things she wants... She's crossing all limits."

Rudra's eyes followed Priya as she walked past him, head held high, a quiet strength in her movements.He tried to touch her but she refused him everytime ,He felt a strange irritation. The girl who had once flinched at every glance, who had begged silently for water, for her own father, now walked freely, smiling, laughing, living as if she owned her world.

"She's... changed," Rudra muttered, almost to himself. "Ignoring me. Living her own life."

And that realization irritated him more than he could admit.

Priya didn't care about their thoughts. She didn't care about Rudra's silences, his angry glares, or her mother-in-law's disapproving eyes. She smiled at neighbors, helped a woman carry baskets, and walked through the village market with quiet pride.

For the first time, she had her own power.

And inside the house, Rudra and MIL realized something terrifying: their control over Priya was slipping.

She was no longer theirs to command.

She was hers.

And the fire in her chest promised: anyone trying to stop her now would have to burn first.

For the first time in days, Priya was taking care of herself . Her body still ached, but at least she wasn't collapsing anymore. She stayed inside while Rudra went to the fields.

That peace didn't last.

Her mother-in-law watched her for days. Too closely.

That afternoon, she finally snapped.

"I've been watching you," she said sharply, blocking Priya's way in the kitchen. "For many days now."

Priya froze.

"Why aren't you going to the fields with Rudra?" the woman demanded. "Why are you staying at home?"

Priya lowered her eyes. "Amm-"

"My son told me you're on your periods," her mother-in-law continued, voice rising. "That's why he didn't take you."

She stepped closer, invading Priya's space.

"But tell me something," she said coldly. "It's been more than eight days. Periods last only five days."

Priya's fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

"So why are you still not going?" the woman pressed. "And I'm seeing you buying things. Oil. Soap. Medicines."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Who is giving you money?"

Priya swallowed hard. "Rudra-"

"So now he's giving you money freely?" the woman scoffed. "For what? To sit at home and take rest?"

Priya's chest felt tight. She spoke softly, carefully.

"I'm not resting. I do all the house work."

"That's nothing," her mother-in-law snapped. "Work is in the fields. That's where a woman proves her worth."

The words burned.

"And don't think I don't notice things," she added. "Don't act smart with me."

Priya nodded slowly, her throat dry.

"Yes," she said. "I understand."

But inside, something curled up tight and small.

Even her pain needed permission here.

Even her body had to explain itself.

And the worst part?

She knew this wasn't concern.

It was control.

In the quiet of midnight, Priya lay awake, staring at the dark ceiling while her mother-in-law's taunts echoed in her head-go to the field, earn something. The words stung more than she expected. Her thoughts drifted to Rudra, and a dull ache settled in her chest. Why had he lied to his mother, saying she was on her periods just to stop her from going to the fields? Was it concern... or control? The saree clung loosely to her, her waist bare as she turned on the bed, lost in questions she didn't dare ask aloud.

The door creaked softly, and Rudra stepped in. His eyes fell on her without warning, and something shifted in him. The curve of her waist, the way the saree slipped-suddenly he was pulled back to another moment, another day. He remembered the first time his hand had closed around her wrist when she almost fell, the instinctive grip at her waist that had steadied her, startled them both. That single touch-unplanned, electric-had set everything in motion. He stood there now, silent, the past pressing against his chest, watching her as if she was both his beginning and his ending.

Rudra waited until her breathing evened out. Or at least, until it sounded like it did. Priya lay still, eyes closed, her body stiff beneath the thin sheet, pretending sleep the way she'd learned to over the months .He shifted closer, careful, his presence warm behind her. Slowly, his open palm rested on her waist-bare where her saree had loosened in sleep. The touch wasn't rough. It never was when he touched her like this. His fingers spread as if memorising her again, and then his hand began to move, testing, sliding just a little lower,when there's no response he tried to slide more then .

Her body reacted before her mind could stop it.

"No," she whispered, catching his wrist instantly. Her grip was firm, almost shaking.

He leaned in, his voice low near her ear. "If you want me to stop," he murmured, "then kiss me."

She turned slightly, still not opening her eyes. "No. I won't."

A faint scoff escaped him. "I'm your husband, Priya."

She finally looked at him then, her eyes dark and awake. "In the bedroom, yes," she said quietly. "But outside?" Her voice trembled despite her effort. "What about you walking beside Anu and leaving me behind? What does that mean, Rudra?" Her fingers tightened around his wrist. "Do you want other men to look at me and think I'm alone? Do you know how that feel.

When Priya said it, his body reacted before his mind did.

"Do you want other men to look at me and think I'm alone?"

Rudra's hand slammed into the mattress beside her head as he hovered over her, his weight caging her in. His face was inches away, eyes burning, breath uneven.

"Say that again," he growled. "Say it once more and see what happens."

She turned her face away, panic creeping in. "Rudra... you're heavy," she whispered. "Get up."

That did it.

He pushed himself off her abruptly and stood, pacing the room like a storm that couldn't find release. His footsteps were sharp against the floor, his jaw tight, fists opening and closing.

"I don't feel married," she said suddenly, her voice shaking. "I feel like... I'm just your toy. Something you pick up when you want and drop when you don't."

He stopped and laughed bitterly. "You should be grateful I even want you."

The words hit harder than any slap.

Priya curled into herself on the bed, hugging her knees, her shoulders shaking as tears spilled freely. She tried to stay quiet, but a soft sob escaped her.

Something in him cracked.

"Ayy... girl," he muttered, his voice losing its edge as he came closer. "Don't cry."

But she couldn't stop.

"I don't have anyone," she cried. "I feel so lonely. I came to the market hoping I'd see my parents for a minute... not to watch you walking ahead, laughing, romancing like I don't exist."

She looked up at him then-eyes red, lips trembling, hair loose around her face.

And that look... ruined him.

His anger twisted into something darker, heavier. He leaned down, cupping her face briefly, then tried to pull her closer, his mouth brushing her cheek as he went for a kiss.

She turned her face away instantly. "No."

That rejection snapped him back into rage.

He straightened, his voice sharp and possessive. "Don't act like this is only my mistake," he said coldly. "You chose this too. You walked into my life. You married me."

She shook her head, tears still falling. "That doesn't mean I owe you my body when I feel broken."

His hand came up-not to hurt-but fisted in the bedsheet beside her head, knuckles white. His eyes were wild.

"Don't do drama now," he said harshly. "Don't reject me like I'm nothing. You're in this because of both of us."

Silence fell between them-thick, painful, suffocating.

Priya stayed curled into herself, crying quietly.

And Rudra stood there, breathing hard, realising for the first time that he was losing her-not to another man, but to loneliness he himself had created.

"Get some sleep," Rudra said, his voice flat. "You don't even let me touch you. You always irritate me."

That word made her sit up instantly.

Priya got off the bed and faced him. "I'm irritating?" Her lips trembled, but her spine stayed straight. "Then I regret being quiet. I regret marrying a man this heartless."

He stepped closer, his eyes darkening. Slowly-deliberately-he lifted his hand. His index finger touched the line of sindoor at her hair parting and traced it down, unhurried, along her forehead... past her throat... to the nape of her neck.

"I wish that day never happened," she said, shivering at the touch but refusing to move. "At least then, I could have married someone who knew how to love me. Someone who would take care of me." Her voice cracked. "Maybe my parents couldn't bring me a groom as rich as you-but at least rich in character."

His finger paused at her nape.

Then he smiled-cold, cutting.

"Oh," he said mockingly, letting his finger slide away. "So now you have fantasies? Dreaming about marrying some imaginary man who'll worship you?" He leaned in, his voice low and cruel. "Don't be delusional, Priya."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"You didn't marry me for love," he continued, each word precise, merciless. "You married me because this"-he gestured at her sindoor-"was written in your fate." He straightened. "And women like you don't get choices. You get what you're given."

That was the moment her heart truly broke.

Not because of his anger.

Not because of his control.

But because even while touching the symbol of their marriage so intimately.

With every chapter, I feel my confidence dropping, so I'm writing smaller chapters because I don't want to bore you guys. I'm not g

etting many views, comments, or likes, but I'm still trying my best and continuing this story with hope.