Unplanned Devotion- A Journey from Hate to Love

Chapter 7: Silent Screams

I woke up in an oversized white shirt that engulfed my petite frame. The fabric was soft against my skin, a stark contrast to the heavy, suffocating lehenga I'd worn the night before. As I glanced around the unfamiliar room, my eyes landed on Virendra, standing near the sliding window that led to the balcony. He was staring out, lost in thought.

Virendra turned and noticed I was awake. His eyes softened, and he approached the bed with a cautious, almost hesitant step.

Virendra: "Good morning, Riddhi. How was your night? Were you able to sleep comfortably?"

I remained silent, my anger simmering beneath the surface. How could he ask such a mundane question after everything he'd done? My mind was a whirlwind of emotions-fear, anger, confusion. I kept my eyes on the floor, unwilling to engage with him.

Virendra: "I slept in another room so you could rest. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

His words were meant to be reassuring, but they only fueled my anger. The tears I had been holding back began to spill down my cheeks. I wiped them away quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice, but it was too late.

Virendra: "Riddhi, why are you crying?"

His voice was filled with genuine concern, and he took a step closer. I could see the worry etched on his face, but it only made me angrier. How dare he act concerned after kidnapping me, forcing me into this marriage, and killing my uncle?

Riddhi: "If you truly want to punish everyone who has made me suffer, you should start with yourself. You're the reason for my tears."

Virendra's face fell, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flash of pain in his eyes. He turned and left the room abruptly. I stood there, stunned by my own boldness and wondering if I had pushed him too far. But just as quickly as he had left, he returned, holding a long, thin rope.

My heart pounded in my chest. Was he going to punish me for speaking out? He pulled off his shirt, revealing a muscular body covered in tattoos. Each mark seemed to tell a story of violence and power. My fear grew as he wrapped the rope around his hand.

Virendra: "You said I should punish the one who makes you cry. That's me."

Before I could react, he began to strike himself with the rope. The sound of it hitting his skin was sickening, and red welts quickly appeared on his chest and back. I screamed, begging him to stop, but he continued, his eyes filled with a strange determination.

Riddhi: "Stop! Please, stop!"

Virendra: "No, Riddhi. This is my punishment for causing you pain."

Tears streamed down my face as I watched him. He was relentless, each strike harder than the last, his body reddening with each blow. I couldn't bear to see him hurt himself like this.

Riddhi: "Stop, Virendra. Please. I can't watch this."

He finally halted, breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He dropped the rope and turned to me, his eyes filled with anguish.

Virendra: "I'm sorry, Riddhi. I'm so sorry for everything."

But he continued to hit himself, and I felt a surge of panic. He was going to hurt himself severely if this continued. I rushed to him, falling at his feet, begging him to stop.

Riddhi: "Please, don't do this. Please stop hitting yourself."

Virendra noticed my hands on his feet and immediately threw the rope aside. He picked me up, holding me close. He softly yelled at me, his grip on my shoulders tight yet gentle.

Virendra: "Don't ever touch my feet again, Riddhi. You are the Lakshmi of this house, my wife. Never lower yourself like that."

His anger was evident, but his touch was careful, as if he was afraid of hurting me. He continued to explain how wrong it was for me to touch his feet, his words filled with a mix of frustration and concern.

Virendra: "You are my equal. Don't ever think otherwise."

I nodded, still shaken by the intensity of the situation. He finally released his grip and stepped back.

Virendra: "Go freshen up. I bought some dresses and footwear for you. They're in the wardrobe along with my clothes. There's a phone on the side table with my number, the maid's, and the driver's saved in it. If you need anything, just ask."

He left the room, giving me privacy. I opened the wardrobe and was stunned by the beautiful clothes inside. Every color, every material, each piece looked expensive and carefully chosen. I pulled out a blue saree, my favorite color, and some simple jewelry.

Before heading to the bathroom, I noticed the phone on the side table. I picked it up, finding a brand-new phone with a few numbers already saved. An idea struck me, and I dialed Muskan's number, one of the few I had memorized.

Muskan answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

Riddhi: "Muskan, it's me, Riddhi."

There was a moment of silence before Muskan's voice filled with panic. "Riddhi! Where are you? Are you safe? I went to your house, and the neighbors told me about the robbery. Your uncle and aunt... I thought you were in danger. I searched everywhere, and even filed a police complaint."

I quickly explained everything that had happened, asking her to keep it a secret. Muskan was shocked but relieved that I was alive.

Muskan: "Maybe he does love you, Riddhi. Maybe this isn't all bad."

I snapped at her, my anger flaring. "No, Muskan. He's a monster. He married me because of his obsession. There's nothing like love here. This place is a cage, a luxurious cage where I'm constantly watching."

Muskan then suggested a plan to rescue me. We discussed it in whispers, and I agreed, feeling a glimmer of hope. I deleted the call history, hiding any trace of our conversation, and headed to the bathroom.

As I stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over me, I couldn't shake off the feeling of dread and hope battling within me. I had to be careful, and had to find a way out of this nightmare. For now, I would play along, bide my time, and wait for the right moment to escape.

When I finished, I dressed in blue saree and simple jewelry. I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to see the strong woman Muskan believed me to be. But all I saw was a scared, trapped girl. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to face the day, knowing that my fight for freedom had only just begun.

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