DARK MARRIAGE 🖤(TWISTED FATE)

#__ 2(IRISHA💔) __#

here she stand for irisha so don't get confuse and" iri "also means irisha

AUTHOR POV-

In the dark confines of her room, the young girl sat, tears streaking silently down her face. Her hand, burned and swollen, had been hastily bandaged in a futile attempt to soothe the searing pain. Mustering her courage, she emerged from the solitary confinement, making her way towards the kitchen, desperate to fulfill her duties despite her anguish.

As she walked, her gaze was suddenly met by her beloved grandfather, his weathered face etched with concern. Noticing her swollen, reddened eyes, he couldn't help but inquire about her distress. But the girl, paralyzed by fear, could not bring herself to divulge the horrors she had endured at the hands of her own family.

The old man's gaze then fell upon her injured hand, and a single tear escaped his eyes, mirroring the helplessness he felt in not being able to shield his cherished granddaughter from such cruelty. Yet, the girl mustered a small, pained smile, rushing to the kitchen, knowing any delay could invite further punishment.
(and the girl is non other than irisha pahal)

With trembling hands, she set about preparing the family's dinner, desperately trying to block out the memories that threatened to consume her. The task at hand was her sole focus, a futile attempt to distract herself from the darkness that had enveloped her life.

As the family gathered around the table, the girl stood silently, serving them their meals. Once they had finished, she approached the kitchen, hoping to partake in the leftover scraps, only to have her aunt snatch the food away, discarding it in the bin. Shivering in fear, the girl realized she had committed an unforgivable transgression, one that would likely result in further abuse.

Trapped in a living nightmare, the girl's only solace was the love she held for her grandfather. It was this love that fueled her determination to endure, to survive, and perhaps, one day, find a way to escape the hell that had become her life.

Irisha cowered in the kitchen, her burned hand trembling as her aunt slowly approached her. The older woman gripped Irisha's injured palm tightly, eliciting a pained scream from the young girl. "Why did you make the curry so spicy today?" the aunt demanded, glaring down at her. "And how dare you complain about me to that old man!"

With those words, the aunt shoved Irisha harshly. "You're the reason our family is suffering! Your parents' death is all your fault," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "You don't deserve to be treated like a person - everyone should treat you like the curse you are!"

Irisha flinched at the cruel words, tears stinging her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't tell anyone," she tried to explain in a small, trembling voice, but her aunt refused to listen.

"Because of you, I, my husband, and our children are suffering!"

Irisha's heart sank as she listened to the tirade, her body shaking with suppressed sobs. She knew better than to cry out loud - if her aunt heard her, the woman would surely lash out even more violently.

Forcing herself to remain quiet, Irisha turned to the sink, wincing as the hot water and soap stung her burned skin. She scrubbed the dishes mechanically, her movements slow and clumsy due to the pain. Tears threatened to spill over, but she blinked them back, determined not to provoke her aunt's wrath any further.

The kitchen was filled with an oppressive silence, save for Irisha's occasional whimpers of discomfort. She knew she was walking a fine line, praying that she could get through this ordeal without incurring any more of her aunt's cruelty.

After washing the dishes irisha came to her room, The room was little more than a cell - four plane walls enclosing a meager space with a narrow bed and single pillow. No sheets, no comforter to ward off the chill. The only adornment was a faded photograph hanging askew, depicting two smiling adults joyfully holding a young girl.

Irisha couldn't tear her eyes away from the happy family frozen in time. Her parents' warm, loving expressions were a cruel juxtaposition to her own pain-lashed existence. She crumpled to the floor, body wracked with sobs as she poured out her anguished heart to the mute figures. "Why did you leave me alone in this world?" she beseeched them between gasps. "You should have taken me with you..."

After uncounted tears, she rose on leaden limbs and changed into a plain cotton kurta and loose pants for the night. Clutching the photoframe tightly, she crawled into the unforgiving bed, willing herself into their peaceful embrace.

Morning's light found a smile returning to Irisha's face as she gazed upon her parents' likenesses. No matter the abuse and suffering, her gentle spirit refused to be crushed. She showered hastily, then set about preparing breakfast for the hostile household.

Once the others were served, Irisha stole a few moments to ready herself - transforming into a lovely vision in a simple black anarkali suit, her thick raven tresses hanging glossy past her hips. A quick dab of lip balm, and she was out the door toward the college.

But first, a stop to give her grandfather his medicine, rewarded with a rare tender moment as she kissed his weathered brow. Then off to the kitchen again to prepare the family's lunch - spiced rice, lentils, paneer in butter sauce, sauteed cabbage and salad.

Irisha alerted her aunt that she was off to class, though the truth was she was nearly an hour and a half behind. She hurried toward the campus at a half-run, not even noticing that her little cousins had long since left ahead of her.

So focused was she on making up for lost time that she plowed headlong into the one person who inspired nearly as much dread as her aunt and uncle. It was Purba, her cousin who taunted and tormented her at every turn. But this time, Purba merely smirked and sidled past without a word.

Baffled but relieved, Irisha resumed her race to class, praying her professor would accept her tardiness without issue. For she clung to the hope that education would one day set her free from this dismal existence.

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