HATING MY WIFE (sidnaaz)

MANTRA

Sidharth's gaze fell on Mandy, and his eyes widened in horror. Blood soaked Mandy's clothes, pooling from a gaping wound on the left side of his chest. A cold shiver ran down Sidharth's spine as he stumbled backward, struggling to process the scene before him. This was his closest friend—his only family—and now he sat there, lifeless, bound to the chair, his head slumped forward. The bullet had almost certainly pierced Mandy's heart, but Sidharth felt paralyzed with fear, his mind racing with doubt. Hadn't he wanted this? Hadn't he sworn to make Mandy pay for his betrayal? And yet, now that it was done, a thin veil of tears blurred his vision, grief clawing at his chest. He stood frozen, unable to look away from the sight of his best friend, dead because of him.

---

Sidharth returned home, his mind a storm of emotions, his clothes disheveled. He entered the mansion to see Shehnaaz sitting on the couch in the dimly lit drawing room, her head jerking up as he walked in.

"You're here," she said softly, standing up, a faint hope flickering in her eyes.

"No, I'm still in the car, you stupid little fool!" he snapped, his voice biting.

Shehnaaz flinched, her eyes dropping. "I mean... do you want me to serve you food?" she asked, her voice gentle and careful, hoping to avoid setting him off. He gave a curt nod, too exhausted and hollow to argue further. They ate in tense silence, the air heavy with things unsaid.

When they finished, Sidharth began walking toward his room, Shehnaaz trailing behind him. As they entered, he turned around, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Um... we're married, so... we should sleep in the same room, right?" she whispered, her hands nervously twisting the hem of her shirt.

Sidharth's face twisted in disgust. "Oh, so eager to sleep with me, huh?" His voice dripped with scorn. Shehnaaz's face paled as she backed away, mortified.

"No! I just thought... since we're..." her voice trailed off, her face flushed with embarrassment. She wanted only to share his space, to be near someone, anyone, who could offer comfort.

Sidharth stepped forward, his face mere inches from hers as he bent down to her eye level, his voice low and icy. "I don't give a damn what you thought. Get out of my room!" With a shove, he pushed her toward the door. Her eyes misted over as she looked down, then slowly turned to leave.

Just as she reached for the door, it flung open, and a woman sauntered in. She was tall, with a model's frame and a flirtatious smile, her eyes locked on Sidharth. Shehnaaz froze, watching in shock as Sidharth smirked at the woman.

"What are you staring at? Get out!" he barked at Shehnaaz, his voice cold and dismissive. She turned and fled, her heart heavy with a sadness she couldn't explain. She wanted to accept this marriage, make the best of her only remaining bond now that her brother was gone. But it seemed Sidharth wanted nothing to do with her. Why had he even married her?

Questions whirled in her mind, each one unanswered, pulling her deeper into despair. She curled up on the couch in the drawing room, her thoughts swirling until she finally drifted into a restless sleep.

---

A sudden splash of cold water jolted her awake. She gasped, sitting up as droplets trickled down her face. Her eyes widened in horror as she looked up, her husband towering over her, an empty jug in his hand.

"Did I bring you here to sleep, you worthless idiot?" he sneered, grabbing her jaw tightly. She winced as his nails dug into her delicate skin.

"Y-you're hurting me," she whimpered, trying to push his hands away.

"Oh, am I?" he mocked, digging his nails deeper, leaving small red marks on her face. "Maybe I should hurt you even more." He pressed harder, watching as thin scratches appeared, the faintest trickle of blood following.

"Please," Shehnaaz cried, her voice choked with fear, her eyes wide and pleading. But he didn't release her until he was satisfied, finally shoving her face away so hard that she stumbled back, hitting the edge of the couch.

"Go make us some food," he ordered harshly, gesturing to the woman still lounging nearby.

Shehnaaz gathered herself, feeling humiliated, but before she could leave, she mustered the courage to speak. "One question, please," she begged, her voice breaking.

"Not even half a question," he replied, dismissing her as he walked toward the dining table. But her question burned inside her, her only lifeline to any shred of understanding.

"Please, let me ask," she pleaded. "I'll die if I—"

Before she could finish, the sharp sound of a slap echoed through the mansion. Her cheek stung, and she could feel hot tears brimming in her eyes. Her hand went to her face instinctively as she looked up at him, searching his eyes for some hint of remorse. But there was nothing—no flicker of guilt, no trace of the man she thought she had known.

A memory surfaced, unbidden. She remembered a time when they were children, and he had been so protective of her. He would scold her for playing near sharp objects, always afraid she'd hurt herself. How could that same person be standing in front of her now, so cold and cruel?

"Last night, you came with Mandy. You were... you were happy," she whispered, confusion and pain evident in her voice. But before she could say more, another slap rang out, silencing her. She was too weak to resist, too overwhelmed to fight back.

She stumbled out of the room and found herself in another empty chamber, the echo of her sobs filling the silence. She fell to her knees, her cries growing louder as grief washed over her. She was alone now, more alone than she had ever been, and every part of her ached for the family she'd lost. Her brother was gone, her husband had turned into a stranger, and she had no one left.

Her father's voice echoed in her mind, a faint memory of happier times. "My little girl, always remember the mantra of a happy marriage. There will be ups and downs, but if you face the problems together, they will fade." He'd often tell her stories of how he and her mother had endured life's hardships together, never giving up on each other.

But as Shehnaaz knelt there, trembling and broken, she wondered if her father had ever imagined a marriage like this—one built on fear, hatred, and betrayal. How was she supposed to hold on when everything she knew had shattered?

The questions still circled in her mind, yet the answers remained as elusive as ever, lost in the darkness around her.