30 parts Ongoing Mature***The story may unfolds at a slow pace, allow the readers to engage with it at their own rhythm, following its natural progression.***
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Ayesha, Ayesha was the name of Murad's sister's. She does not live with them, she had left home a long time ago and neither she will be welcomed in this house again.
How much embarrassment his family had to face the day his sister ran away from her Nikkah.
Only to know that she married to a non-Muslim man.
And that man was none other than Mustafa's wife Chhaya Singh Rathore's brother, His own wife Mr Murad Ahmet Mustafa's wife.
Chaya was setting up her pillow and and blanket as the soft tinkling of her bangles echoed in the stillness, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The nuptial chain adorned her neck. Her figure, graceful, the kind many would desire, she adjusted the long, light pallu of her saree over her shoulder, which seemed to perpetually slip off, as if mocking her attempts to keep it in place, when suddenly she felt as though someone was staring at her.
She turned to find Mustafa on bed, her devoted husband, gazing at her with affection.
Detect the subtle sarcasm in his expression, she gave a slight snicker as she returned to her work.
......
The slap echoed through the air, its sharpness leaving Mustafa motionless, He looked at the woman who dared, her face flushed with rage, her anger evident in every feature.
She took a step back, before she could pull away he gripped her neck and savagely forced his lips onto hers, leaving a brutal mark of dominance and then he released her.
A second slap slammed into his cheek, sting lingering.
Without pause, he brutalised her once more silencing her resistance in a single, overpowering motion.
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This is my first time writing a story.
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