The car glided down the road like a silent procession, the world outside blurring into streaks of color and noise. Inside, the silence between Raneya and Zaryab was deafening.
She sat stiffly, her bridal lehenga weighing down her body like a chainmail of expectations. Her hands, covered in intricate mehndi, lay cold in her lap. The smell of roses made her nauseous. Every petal that had been thrown at her felt like another shovel of dirt burying her alive.
Zaryab, dressed like a prince out of a magazine, kept sneaking glances at her. He didn't know what to say. How could he? How do you speak to someone who looks like they've been led to their own funeral?
"You look… beautiful," he finally said, his voice gentle.
Raneya didn't respond.
He cleared his throat. "If you're scared, I understand. But… I'll try to make this work. I'll be good to you, Raneya."
Still no response.
Zaryab frowned slightly, but didn't push further. Something inside him whispered that forcing conversation now would only make things worse.
As they approached the house—his house, her new "home"—a strange chill ran down her spine. The moment the car stopped, fireworks cracked in the air, and more rose petals were thrown as she stepped out. But inside, her mind screamed. She wasn't stepping into a new chapter of her life.
She was stepping into a cage.
The grand entrance to her new life was lined with silk curtains, crystal chandeliers, and the laughter of strangers. Rose petals rained down on Raneya as she stepped into Zaryab's home—her susraal now—a palace of wealth built on secrets. But every flower that touched her skin felt like ash. Every whispered "blessing" pierced her like a curse.
She was led inside with smiling faces and glittering eyes, her feet sinking into Persian carpets that muffled the sound of her fading footsteps, her dreams slowly retreating behind her. Her bridal dress, once a symbol of celebration, now clung to her like a burial shroud. The warmth of strangers enveloped her, yet inside, she felt nothing but an eerie coldness.
As the festivities died down, Khala and Saniya, ever understanding, had excused themselves to Khala's house next door, claiming to give the couple privacy.
Now, as the celebration dimmed and silence settled like dust over the chandeliers, she was alone with the man she had vowed her life to.
Zaryab.
He, sensing her unease, was warm, at first. Gentle. Soft-spoken but with calculative words. The kind of man who knew how to speak with care, how to smile with precision. He showed her around the house like a host at an art gallery, pointing out her new room, her wardrobe, her future. "If you ever feel uncomfortable, Saniya is a call away," he said kindly. "You can even go to Khala's, alright?"
His kindness should have been reassuring, but Raneya felt caged. She was no longer free to dream, no longer free to chase ambitions that once fueled her soul. Marriage had clipped her wings, forcing her into submission. Still, she fought to suppress the storm within. She nodded, obeyed, and let herself sink into this unfamiliar life.
Then, Zaryab's phone rang. His expression shifted in an instant. "It's urgent," he said briskly, already turning away while she sat at the edge of the bed.
Something in her urged her to stop him. Perhaps it was instinct, a whisper from fate warning her. "Zaryab—" she tried, but he was already walking away, disappearing into the hallway , swallowed by shadows.
Left alone, she let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. The walls seemed closer, the air heavier. She wandered aimlessly, her fingers brushing against the fine wood of the furniture, the silk of the curtains—things that should have felt luxurious but instead felt suffocating.
And then came the sound that shattered her illusion.
His voice—loud, angry, real.
"No, it's not easy marrying a girl and convincing her to sell herself off like that," Zaryab hissed, as if the words themselves were poison. "These things take time. She's stubborn. Not like the others."
She stilled. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she followed the sound, each step a battle against the dread creeping up her spine, as her knees weakened
Zaryab's voice continued, each syllable like a blade to her soul. "She'll give in. They all do. I'm not running a charity—I'm running a business,"he scoffed.
Raneya's heartbeat roared in her ears. Every step toward the hallway felt like wading through a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. The luxury around her blurred. The warmth turned icy. She was not a bride.
She was a commodity.
The room spun around Raneya as Zaryab's words echoed in her ears, slicing through her soul like shards of broken glass. Her heart pounded, a frantic rhythm of disbelief and terror. She took a shaky step back. And then—
CRASH!
Her arm grazed a vase perched on the edge of a side table. The porcelain exploded against the marble floor with a deafening shatter.
Zaryab's voice was cut off. Silence descended like a noose.
He turned, his sharp gaze locking onto her.
"You heard everything, didn't you?" he said. His voice was eerily calm, but the flicker of rage in his eyes was frightening.
She felt the ice creeping into her veins, but fear could not chain her. Not now. Not after what she had just uncovered. "You—" her voice cracked, then steadied, fueled by the storm rising within her. "you trap women. You sell them. You're a—"
"A businessman," he interrupted smoothly, stepping closer. "And now, you're my business partner. Congratulations, Mrs. Zaryab."
Revulsion twisted her gut. "You're disgusting."
He laughed. "I've been called worse."
"I'm not your puppet," she hissed.
He sighed, shaking his head as if she were a naive child. "It's business, Raneya." His lips curved into something almost amused. "And now that you're my wife, you should support me.
Disgust churned in her stomach. "You can't make me do this." she spat. "You're a monster!"
He stepped closer.
Raneya's breath came in shallow gasps as the walls of the house—the cage she had just stepped into—closed in on her. Raneya bolted.
But he grabbed her—wrist like iron, yanking her back into his control.
"Let go!" she screamed, twisting, kicking.
The fight ignited. She thrashed, clawed at his arm, but his grip only tightened. Fury burned in her veins as she met his eyes, daring to defy him. "Let. Me. Go."
His grip tightened as He chuckled darkly. . "You'll learn to obey. That's what good wives do."
Something inside her snapped. With all the rage, all the helplessness clawing inside her, she raised her hand and slapped him. Hard.
Time stopped.
Zaryab's head whipped to the side, a red mark blooming on his cheek. His jaw clenched. His eyes turned cold.
He stumbled back slightly, his hand flying to his cheek. For a brief moment, he looked stunned—like a petulant child scolded for the first time.
And then the monster revealed himself.
A punch to her stomach stole her breath.
A slap across her face sent her crashing to the floor.
But then, something darker took over. His expression twisted. His eyes burned with fury, his ego shattered beyond repair. "You'll regret that," he snarled.
And then the monster revealed himself.
A punch to her stomach stole her breath.
A slap across her face sent her crashing to the floor.
Pain. White-hot, blinding. His foot against her ribs. His fist against her shoulder. She cried, begged, and fought. He dragged her by her hair like she was nothing more than a broken doll.
Raneya screamed. She screamed until her throat burned, until her voice cracked under the weight of agony.
Zaryab loomed over her, his face twisted in something grotesque, inhuman. And then—he did the unthinkable.
He violated her. Ripped her body and soul apart. Stripped her of dignity, of safety, of everything she had ever known.
She fought. She fought until her strength betrayed her. Until her body collapsed under the weight of his cruelty. Until her screams dissolved into the suffocating silence of the house that had become her prison.
When it was over, she lay still. Her skin was bruised, her heart- broken, shattered and hollow.
Zaryab exhaled, buttoned his shirt and straightened his collar as if he had just concluded a business meeting. "Welcome to marriage, Raneya," he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender.
A tear slipped from her swollen eye. Her voice was gone. Her will was nearly broken, lost against the bruises blooming on her skin. And in that moment, as she lay motionless on the cold floor.