𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝟖| 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐚𝐝𝐡𝐲𝐚

Hello Butterflies,

Hope everyone is doing well. I'm fine, Alhamdulillah. Thank you so much for all of your love and support. Here is the new chapter. From now on I would try to upload this book every Monday.

Read and enjoy ❤️‍🩹

I admired myself as I stood in front of the mirror, ignoring Ajith's glaring.

"How can I look this hot with these wrinkles and white hair? God, even I can't handle my own hotness," I said, dramatically waving my hands in front of my face and blowing a kiss to my reflection.

But that idiot was still glaring at me. Huffing at his constant expression, I turned around to face him.

"What is your problem?" I asked, placing both my hands on my hips for dramatic effect.

"Tumhe sach mein kisi se dar nahi lagta hai kya?" he asked, sighing at my nature.

( " Are you really not afraid of anyone? " )

"Main koi galat kaam nahi kar rahi hoon, toh main kyun kisise daroongi? It should be them who should be afraid of me because their empire is going to crumble soon. I'll make sure of that," I said, my hands tightening as rage filled my veins.

( "If I'm not doing anything wrong, then why should I be afraid of anyone?" )

I would never be afraid of them. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could only think about those innocent girls who had been raped and kidnapped by these beasts.

When I first started my career as a junior journalist, all I was allowed to cover was celebrity news and their personal life issues. I was nothing more than a paparazzo then. But when I met Rakesh Deshmukh, my senior and the best journalist I had ever met, my life completely changed. He gave me an opportunity that nobody else was willing to give. He saw the potential in me.

Most journalists in our country work for the ruling political party and corrupted politicians. I was not ready to follow their paths, so I started researching and observing more about those politicians. Luckily, the people in our country were also interested in knowing about the corruption and injustice around them.

But one day, about one and a half years ago, I received a letter that changed my life completely. It was from a girl named Khushi. Khushi was a fifteen-year-old girl living with her uncle and aunt after her parents died when she was ten. Even though her uncle and aunt didn't treat her well, she was grateful for having a roof over her head. But all her hope died when, on her fourteenth birthday, her uncle and aunt married her off to a rich old man who raped her on their wedding night. The old man was a political party leader who would take her to party meetings and sell her for the night to other party members. Khushi was just a minor who didn't have a proper education and had been raped by multiple people. In her letter, she wrote that she was not the only girl the rich man had married. He had many other girls like Khushi in his house, whom he would sell as prostitutes to big and rich people and politicians. She somehow learned about me from a kind worker lady who had enough kindness to post this letter to me. I can never forget the last lines of the letter: