________________________________________________________________________________
Mishti walked through the narrow lane, her school bag slung over her shoulder, lost in thought. The sound of laughter and chatter from the group of boys ahead of her broke her reverie. As they passed her, one of them accidentally pushed her, sending her stumbling.
A figure rushed back, grasping her arm to steady her. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.
Her eyes met his, and for a fleeting moment, they locked gazes. She felt a flutter in her chest, her face warming up. "Th-thank you," she stammered, quickly looking away.
The boy smiled and nodded before turning to catch up with his friends.
She watched him go, her heart still racing. She didn't want to go home, not yet. But where could she go? She had nowhere else.
As she walked through the door, Romila, glared at her. "Where have you been? You're late again! Don't you understand, you're a girl, and anything can happen to you if you're out too late?"
She looked down, avoiding her stepmother's angry gaze. Romila's expression softened slightly as she took in her soiled clothes and the scraped knee.
"How many times have I told you not to wear skirts anymore? You're always coming home with scratched legs," she scolded, fetching a spray from the cabinet.
As she applied the antiseptic spray, Mishti winced. Romila's eyes narrowed. "And look at this bruise on your thigh. How did you get it?"
Mishti's eyes welled up, and she glanced toward the room where Romila's brother, Chandu, was sleeping. He had been staying with them for over a month, supposedly looking for a job.
Romila's voice was firm. "What does Chandu do, Mishti?"
Her voice trembled. "He...he calls me into his room, asks me if I've started wearing a bra...and..."
Romila's expression darkened. "And what?"
"He did this...to my thigh."
Romila's eyes burst with anger. She stormed into Chandu's room, slamming the door behind her.
Mishti watched through the crack in the door as Romila dragged Chandu out of bed, beating him mercilessly.
"How dare you try to assault a child?" Romila shouted.
He stumbled, defending himself. "But she's just your stepdaughter, what does it matter to you?"
Romila's slap silenced him. "She may not be mine by blood, but I won't let anyone harm her!"
Mishti watched, tears streaming down her face, as she threw Chandu out of the house.She looked gratefully at Romila, her eyes welling up with tears. For a fleeting second, Romila's stern expression softened, and a warm smile flickered across her face.
"Come, help me clean the kitchen," she said, her voice gruff again, masking her emotions.
As they scrubbed the pots and pans, Romila's curses and cusses filled the air, aimed at Mishti's father and her own family.
The next day, Mishti sought refuge in the neighborhood park, its worn swings and rusty slide a familiar haven.
When she was playing,a scream pierced the air, sending a shiver down her spine. The voice sounded familiar.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she followed the sound to a deserted lane. A gang of boys surrounded Chandu, kicking and punching him mercilessly.
One boy stood out – the same one who had helped her yesterday.
YOU ARE READING
Sultan:Her Wanted Husband (18+)✓
Romance"Don't be so rough," she begged, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Sultan's tongue plunged into her folds, savagely tasting her innocence. She cried out, her body writhing beneath him. His fingers joined the assault, mercilessly fucking her tight ent...
