FORCED MARRIAGE WITH BROTHER IN LAW

chapter 66

Snow pressed against the windows of the small basement apartment in Toronto, muffling the world outside. Inside, the heater rattled weakly, doing little to warm the chill that clung to the corners.

Kittu sat hunched on the bed, hair tangled, her face pale. The nausea had returned, twisting her stomach until she could barely breathe. The half-empty bowl of soup on the table had gone cold.

"Eat a little more," Y/N said softly, setting her textbooks aside. She'd been studying, notes sprawled across the desk, but the moment Kittu gagged she was by her side.

"I said I'm not hungry!" Kittu snapped, her voice sharp. "Why do you always hover like some nurse? You think this makes you better than me?"

The words cut, but Y/N didn't flinch. She'd grown used to Kittu's barbs — the bitterness that spilled out whenever shame and fear pressed too heavy. Instead, she lifted the bowl, kneeling beside her sister.

"You don't have to like me," Y/N murmured, her eyes steady. "But you have to eat. For the baby."

The word baby made Kittu's eyes flash with something between panic and resentment. She turned her face away. "It's not even mine. Not really. I'm not keeping it."

Y/N's chest tightened, but her voice stayed calm. "Then it will be mine."

Kittu laughed bitterly. "You? The one who always hated kids? Who never wanted anyone? You'll raise it?"

Y/N swallowed, her gaze drifting to the frost-streaked window. "Yes. Because I know what it feels like to grow up unwanted. I won't let that happen again."

Kittu opened her mouth, ready with another cruel retort, but stopped. The determination in Y/N's voice, quiet but unshakable, silenced her.

Weeks Passed

Y/N worked double shifts — mornings at a café, evenings cleaning offices — and still came home to cook for Kittu. She massaged her aching back, bought vitamins with money meant for her rent, and stayed awake during long nights when Kittu cried silently into her pillow.

Kittu's comments didn't stop.
"You're just waiting for me to fail."
"You only want this baby so you can prove you're better than me."
"You're jealous I had someone who loved me first."

Each word was a knife, but Y/N bore them in silence. Because beneath the venom, she saw the fear.

And love — unwanted, unreciprocated, unbreakable — kept her going.

One Evening

Kittu sat on the couch, her hands cradling her swollen belly. She looked so small, so lost, that Y/N felt her heart twist.

"Why are you doing this?" Kittu whispered suddenly, her voice breaking. "Why are you still here? Everyone else would've left me."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. She set down the laundry basket and sat beside her.

"Because you never left me," she said simply. "When the whole family ignored me, you were the only one who didn't. Maybe you laughed with them, maybe you didn't always defend me... but you saw me, Kittu. That's enough."

For the first time in months, Kittu's eyes filled with tears that weren't from shame or anger, but something softer.

She didn't apologize. She didn't say thank you. But she leaned her head against Y/N's shoulder, and for one fragile moment, the storm between them quieted.

The basement apartment was dim, the only light coming from the glow of Kittu's phone. She sat curled on the bed, one hand over her belly, her thumb moving quickly across the screen.