Y/N’s body was betraying her.
Her limbs felt heavy, her head pounded relentlessly, and her vision blurred every time she blinked. The weight of exhaustion clung to her like chains, but she couldn’t stop.
She wouldn’t stop.
Because stopping meant consequences.
She wiped sweat from her forehead, gripping the kitchen counter to steady herself. The food was nearly done, the house spotless, everything perfect—but the clock was unforgiving.
Five minutes late.
Five minutes too late.
The sound of the front door slamming sent a jolt of fear through her bones. He was home.
The air grew thick with tension before he even stepped into the room. She turned just in time to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, eyes dark with anger. He didn’t need to speak. His rage filled the silence.
Neha smirked from her seat, watching, waiting, enjoying.
Kittu, frozen on the couch, gripped her own hands so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Y/N swallowed. Braced herself.
And then—pain.
The force of the slap sent her crashing to the floor, her vision going white for a split second.
“Five minutes,” Taehyung hissed. His voice was calm, controlled. That was the worst part. This wasn’t a burst of anger. It was habit.
Her body curled in on itself, her hands pressing against the cold floor as she fought to breathe. But he wasn’t finished.
A harsh yank at her wrist pulled her up just enough for another hit—this time against her ribs. The world spun.
“Can’t even do one thing right,” he muttered, pushing her away like she was nothing.
Y/N barely caught herself, arms shaking as she collapsed again.
No one moved.
Because this was normal.
Neha chuckled under her breath, shaking her head like she was watching a drama unfold.
Kittu… Kittu was crying. Silent, tear after tear falling onto her lap. But she didn’t move. Didn’t stop him.
BTS sat in tense silence. Their hands clenched into fists, their jaws tight. But no one moved.
Jungkook shifted forward, just slightly, like he was about to speak—about to do something—but he stopped. His face twisted with guilt.
Y/N saw it.
Saw all of it.
And she hated it.
Hated that they almost saved her. That they almost spoke up.
But "almost" meant nothing.
Because no one ever did.
Her head spun violently as she tried to stand, every inch of her body aching. Her hands gripped the counter to stay upright.
But Taehyung wasn’t done.
Without a word, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her upstairs.
Her body screamed in protest, her fever worsening by the second, but she didn’t fight back. She never did.
The bedroom door slammed shut behind them.
And the rest of the house?
It stayed silent.
Just like always.
Y/N’s body hit the bedroom floor with a dull thud. The world around her was hazy, her fever burning through her skin like fire. She wanted to move, to push herself up—but she couldn’t.
She was too weak.
Too tired.
Too broken.
Taehyung towered over her, breathing heavily. His face was unreadable, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“You’re pathetic,” he muttered. “Crying over nothing, moving like a corpse. You think anyone cares?”
Y/N’s lips trembled. Not from fear. Not from pain.
But from exhaustion.
Her body wasn’t just hurting—it was shutting down. She knew it.
But Taehyung didn’t.
Didn’t care.
He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him. “You think you can just slow down, huh?” His grip tightened. “I don’t care if you’re sick. You don’t get to rest.”
Y/N’s vision blurred further. She could barely breathe.
Her fever had been growing worse all day, each task she completed draining her more. She had ignored it, forced herself to keep going—because she had no choice.
And now?
Now her body was shutting down.
But Taehyung wasn’t finished.
His next words were slow, controlled—dangerous.
“You’ll get up,” he ordered. “And you’ll clean the mess you made.”
Mess?
Her foggy mind barely registered the glass of water that had tipped over when he shoved her.
Her fingers twitched against the cold floor. She tried to push herself up, but her arms buckled.
She couldn’t.
Her body wouldn’t listen.
And that made him angrier.
His foot struck her side—not hard enough to break anything, but enough to steal the breath from her lungs.
Y/N gasped, curling in on herself. The pain was sharp, but the fever dulled everything else.
Her body wasn’t just weak anymore.
It was failing her.
Her stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in her throat. She was going to throw up. She was going to pass out. Something was wrong.
And still—no one stopped him.
BTS sat downstairs, unmoving. Silent.
Neha smiled, entertained.
Kittu… Kittu sobbed quietly into her hands.
Because she knew.
Knew something no one else did.
Knew why this was worse than usual.
Knew why Y/N’s body wasn’t recovering.
And that secret?
It was killing her inside.
YOU ARE READING
FORCED MARRIAGE WITH BROTHER IN LAW
Fanfictionstory about famous idol who marries with her sister in law
