The nightmares of the previous night bled seamlessly into the cold reality of the morning. Deepti awoke with her muscles aching, her throat raw from coughing up the freezing bathwater Sahab had forced her into. Her clothes had barely dried, and a low, shivering fever danced beneath her skin. She had spent hours trying to wash away the phantom feeling of his iron grip on her neck, but the walls of her room offered no sanctuary. The flickering yellow bulb overhead hummed weakly, casting long, menacing shadows across the floorboards.

She sat curled up in the corner of her dimly lit room, her chest heaving as she clutched her bruised knees tightly to her chest. I can't keep living like this, she thought, her mind a chaotic storm of panic and exhaustion. I have to find a way out.

Suddenly, the heavy click of the door lock echoed. A faint shadow fell over her, and Deepti's heart sank straight into her stomach. Slowly, she looked up, dreading the monster she knew she would see.

There he was—Sahab.

Standing tall, a cruel, mocking smirk played on his lips, his mere presence instantly filling the small room with a suffocating weight. Deepti forced herself onto her weak feet, summoning every ounce of courage she had left to stand her ground.

"Kaisi ho, jaan?" His voice dripped with fake tenderness as he took a slow step closer. "Mujhe miss kiya tumne?"

["How are you, jaan? Did you miss me?"]

His hand reached out, lazily brushing the air just inches away from her face. But before his fingers could make contact with her skin, Deepti summoned a sudden burst of defiance and violently shoved his hand away.

His dark eyes narrowed dangerously at her resistance. But Deepti's mind was elsewhere—echoing fiercely with the words Tara had whispered to her earlier that day: "Deepu, tum hamesha darr ke nahi reh sakti. Tumhe apne liye ladna hoga!"

["Deepu, you can't live in fear all the time. You have to fight for yourself!"]

Her breathing steadied as she clenched her fists at her sides. Shutting her eyes tight for a single second, she opened them again, a desperate determination flickering like a dying flame she was trying to keep alive.

"Sahab," she began, her voice firm despite the violent quiver in her chest. "Mujhe azaadi chahiye. Amma ne jitne paise liye the, main sab wapas kar doongi. Mujhe bas..." Her voice faltered slightly under his intense glare, but she quickly forced her composure back. "Mujhe bas yeh sab chhodna hai."

["Sahab, I want my freedom. I will return every single rupee Amma has taken from you. I just... I just want to leave all of this behind."]

For a horrific moment, absolute silence engulfed the room. Then, Sahab's handsome face twisted into something deeply ugly. His lips stretched into a chilling, dangerous smile that made Deepti's skin crawl.

"Thik hai, jaan." His voice dropped to a low, venomous purr. "Aaj se shuru karte hain. Haan?"

["Alright, jaan. Then let's start from today, shall we?"]

Before Deepti could fully grasp the deadly shift in his tone, he turned sharply toward the hallway and barked, "Malika! Isko ready karo!"

["Malika! Get her ready!"]

Deepti froze, her eyes widening in sheer shock. "Kya... Kya kar rahe hain aap?" she stammered, her voice laced with absolute disbelief.

["What... What are you doing?"]

He turned back to face her, his expression as cold as ice. "Aaj tum nachogi."

["Today, you will dance."]

The room spun around her. "Kya hua, jaan? Dar gayi? Ab azaadi nahi chahiye?" His mocking, booming laughter filled the space, slicing directly through her soul.

["What happened, jaan? Are you scared now? Don't you want your freedom anymore?"]

Her knees felt entirely hollow as the crushing weight of his words crashed into her. "Nahi," she whispered, shaking her head violently as panic took over. "Please... Main kuch aur kaam kar loongi... Lekin yeh mat karwaiye."

["No... Please. I will do any other work... But please don't force me to do this."]

Sahab's hand shot forward like a viper, gripping her upper arm so tightly that she winced in pain. "Aur kaam?" he hissed, pulling her forward until his face was mere inches from hers. "Jaan, tumhe mujhse aazaad hone ke liye kisi aur khareedar ke paas jaana hoga na? After all, you are a property!"

["Other work? Jaan, to be free from me, you would have to go to some other buyer, wouldn't you? After all, you are a property!"]

Deepti's vision blurred instantly as hot tears filled her eyes, spilling over her pale cheeks. She sobbed, trying to shake her arm free from his iron hold, but his fingers only dug deeper into her skin.

"Ab der ho chuki hai," he sneered, completely deaf to her frantic pleas. "Jao. Ready ho jao. Mere doston ki chhoti si party hai yahan raat ko. Aur tum acche se nachogi."

["It is too late now. Go. Get ready. My friends are having a small party here tonight, and you are going to dance for them perfectly."]

Her chest heaved with silent, broken sobs as Sahab finally released his grip, shoving her back onto the mattress with disgust. Deepti wanted to scream, to fight, to tear down the walls, but she was completely trapped by his immense cruelty, trapped by her own terror, and locked inside a dark destiny she had never chosen.

༺═────────────═༻

After slamming the door to Deepti's room, Sahab's expression darkened into pure rage. He turned sharply to Malika Jaan, who had been lingering nervously in the shadows of the hallway, and grabbed her roughly by the arm, dragging her into a secluded corner.

Before the madame could utter a single word of greeting, Sahab's palm came down hard across her face in a brutal slap that echoed through the empty corridor. Malika gasped sharply, clutching her stinging, reddening cheek, but she didn't dare raise her eyes to meet his.

He seized her hair in his fist, yanking her head back violently until she had no choice but to look at him. His voice was low, trembling with a seething, dangerous fury. "Meri jaan ko yeh azaadi ki latt lag rahi hai, Malika? Batao mujhe. Kahan se seekha usne yeh? Isi ke liye maine tumhe 50 lakh diye the?"

["My jaan is getting addicted to this idea of freedom, Malika? Tell me, where on earth did she learn this? Is this what I gave you 50 lakhs for?"]

Malika's breath hitched, her eyes stretching wide with genuine fear of the man holding her. "S-Sahab..." she stammered, her voice shaking. "M-Mujhe bhi nahi pata ki Deepti achanak se aisa kyun bol rahi thi. Main usse samjhaungi. Wada karti hoon—"

["Sahab... I also don't know why Deepti was suddenly talking like this. I will talk to her, and I will fix her. I promise—"]

He cut her off instantly with a sharp, painful yank on her roots. His voice dropped to a deadly, venomous whisper. "Nahi. Main samjhaunga. Aaj meri jaan ko samjhaata hoon ki azaadi kaisi lagti hai... Aur kaise usse ekdum kareeb laake cheena jaa sakta hai."

["No. I will be the one to teach her. Today, I will show my jaan exactly what freedom feels like... And how beautifully it can be snatched away right when you think it's within reach."]

He released her roughly, throwing her against the peeling wallpaper. Malika stumbled backward, trembling as she rubbed her burning scalp.

"Thik hai, Sahab," she whispered shakily, her compliance absolute. "Main Deepti ko ready karwati hoon."

["Alright, Sahab. I will get Deepti ready myself."]

"Accha hai," he spat, casually straightening the lapels of his luxury suit as if his hands hadn't just been covered in violence. "Aur yaad rakhna, Malika—agar meri jaan ne phir se yeh azaadi ka sapna dekha, toh tumhara anjaam kya hoga... Tum acche se jaanti ho."

["Good. And remember, Malika—if my jaan ever dreams of this freedom again, you already know what your fate will be."]

Malika nodded frantically, her face entirely pale as she backed away. Sahab gave her one final, piercing glare before turning on his heel. The heavy, rhythmic click of his polished leather shoes echoed ominously down the corridor.

Malika stood alone in the hallway for a moment, gripping the molding of the wall to steady her shaking knees. She drew in a ragged breath, steeling her heart. She had no alternative; she knew better than to ever cross him.

Turning slowly, she headed back toward Deepti's closed door, her mind racing with a mix of fear and cold resentment. Whatever Sahab had planned for the evening was bound to be ruthless, but one thing was absolutely certain. Tonight, Deepti's desperate cry for freedom had ignited a dangerous storm, and there was no turning back.

༺═────────────═༻

As soon as Sahab stormed out of the room, I slumped onto the bed, my body trembling and my mind racing with pure fear and helplessness. Before I could even gather my scattered thoughts, Tara burst into the room. Her face was etched with a terrifying amount of worry. She hurried over to me, her hands desperately clutching my shoulders.

"Kya hua, Deepu?" she asked, her voice laced with panic. "Usne kya kiya? Tum itni dari hui kyun ho?"

["What happened, Deepu? What did he do? Why are you so scared?"]

Hot tears spilled down my cheeks as I recounted everything that had just transpired, my voice breaking with every single word. Tara's expression shifted instantly from deep concern to absolute outrage, her fists clenching rigidly at her sides. Just then, the door swung open, and Amma walked into the room. Her presence was as cold and commanding as ever.

Tara whirled around, her pent-up anger completely spilling over. "Amma!" she shouted, her voice trembling with a fierce fury. "Aapne kaise Deepu ke liye haan keh diya is aadmi ko? Maine mana kiya tha aapse, Amma! Maine kaha tha ki agar Deepu ne naachna shuru kiya, toh main naachna chhod doongi!"

["Amma! How could you say yes to this man for Deepu? I already told you no for this, Amma! I told you that if Deepu starts dancing, then I will leave dancing forever!"]

The brave words had barely left Tara's mouth when Amma's hand came down brutally hard across her cheek. The sharp slap echoed through the small room like a crack of thunder. Tara stumbled backward slightly from the sheer force, clutching her burning cheek, her eyes stretching wide with shock and pain.

"Teri zabaan aajkal kuch zyada kainchi ki tarah nahi chal rahi hai, Tara?" Amma hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerously low, venomous purr. She pointed a sharp, accusing finger directly at Tara's face. "Bhool mat, Deepti meri beti hai! Main jo chaahoon, uske saath kar sakti hoon, aur karwa bhi sakti hoon!"

["Isn't your tongue moving a bit too much like scissors these days, Tara? Don't forget, Deepti is my daughter! I can do whatever I want with her, and I can get it done, too!"]

Tara's bottom lip quivered violently as she tried to find her voice through her tears. "Amma... Mujhe maaf kardo," she whispered, tears pooling heavily in her eyes as she looked up. "Lekin, please Deepti se yeh mat karwao. Woh—woh iss sab ke liye tayaar nahi hai."

["Amma... Please forgive me. But please, don't force Deepti to do this. She—she is not ready for all of this."]

Amma's eyes narrowed into slits, her sharp face twisting into a mocking sneer. "Tayaar nahi hai?" she spat out. "Aur tu, Tara? Tujhe main sadak se uthaake yahan laayi thi. Tujhe Malika Mahal ki sabse acchi naachnewali banaya. Aur ab tu mujhe sikhaayegi ki mujhe kya karna chaahiye?"

["She is not ready? And what about you, Tara? I picked you up from the streets and brought you here. I made you the best dancer in Malika Mahal. And now you are going to teach me what I should do?"]

Tara entirely lost her stance and fell to her knees, clasping her hands together in absolute desperation. "Amma, main toh anaath hoon. Lekin Deepu... Uska kya kasoor hai? Usse yeh sab mat karwao, main aapke aage haath jodti hoon."

["Amma, I am just an orphan. But Deepu... What is her fault? Don't make her do all this, I fold my hands before you, begging."]

Amma's face hardened like stone, her remaining patience snapping entirely. She lunged forward, grabbing Tara brutally by the arm, and began dragging her toward the door. "Teri zubaan aur chal rahi hai, Tara," she said coldly. "Ab main tujhe samjhaungi kaise chup rehte hain."

["Your tongue is speaking far too much, Tara. Now I will show you exactly how to remain silent."]

With a harsh shove, she threw Tara out into the corridor and slammed her bedroom door, locking her inside her own chamber from the outside. Tara's muffled, frantic cries and desperate banging on the wood echoed faintly through the walls as Amma slowly turned her dark gaze back to me.

"Deepti!" she barked, her sharp, whip-like tone making me flinch instinctively. "Abhi ke abhi ready ho jao. Aaj tumhara pehla dance hoga."

["Get ready right this second. Today will be your first dance."]

I stared at her in absolute disbelief, my heart sinking into a bottomless pit. "Amma... Main—main yeh nahi kar sakti," I stammered, my voice barely audible over the rushing sound of my own panic.

["Amma... I—I cannot do this."]

Amma's eyes burned with a menacing rage as she took a slow, threatening step closer to my bed. "Mujhe ek shabd aur mat kehna, Deepti," she snapped, her voice cutting off my breath. "Tumhe jo kaha jaa raha hai, bas woh karo. Warna isse zyada bura anjaam tumhare liye hoga."

["Do not say another word to me, Deepti. Just do exactly what you are told. Otherwise, the consequences will be far worse for you than this."]

Her words struck me like a physical blow, and I felt the very walls of the room closing in around me, suffocating me. I had no choice. I had no power. Swallowing the heavy lump of sorrow in my throat, I nodded weakly and stood up. The invisible weight of my tragic fate pressed down on me like an iron shackle, binding me to the floorboards. Amma's cold, triumphant smile returned as she swept out of the room, leaving me entirely alone with the crushing, inescapable reality of what was to come.

༺═────────────═༻

A few hours later, I sat frozen in front of the dressing mirror, staring blankly at a reflection that didn't even feel like mine.

The girl staring back in the glass was adorned in a heavily embroidered, opulent lehenga, decked with expensive jewelry that sparkled mockingly under the dim light. But beneath all the glittering glamour was a vast, hollow emptiness. Her lifeless eyes stared back at me, her beautifully painted lips utterly unable to form a smile.

A dead doll.

That was what I had truly become—a hollow, lifeless shell, dressed up like a puppet solely to please the twisted desires of others. Sometimes, beauty feels like the ultimate curse. It chains you, confines you, and invites the dirty gazes of men who want nothing more than to possess you, never to protect you.

My heart hammered painfully against my ribs as I sat paralyzed, my hands tightly gripping the edge of the wooden vanity. That was when I noticed a movement behind me. A terrifying reflection bloomed in the mirror—Sahab.

His sharp, menacing eyes bore directly into my reflection as he stepped closer, his predatory smile widening with sickening delight. He reached down and took my bare arm in a sudden, vice-like grip.

"Badi sundar lag rahi ho, jaan," he murmured, his breath hot against my neck, his tone dripping with thick mockery. "Aaj dekhte hain, tum apni yeh sundarta aur naach se manoranjan kar paati ho ki nahi."

["You are looking incredibly beautiful, jaan. Today, let's see whether you can entertain us with your beauty and your dance."]

I didn't respond. I couldn't. My throat felt completely dry, my words trapped somewhere deep inside my lungs.

Before I could even think of resisting, the door was thrown open. Two older women from the brothel stepped in, roughly grabbing me by my arms, and dragged me out of the room. They marched me down the corridor and pushed me into the large, grand performance hall.

The room was suffocatingly opulent. Massive chandeliers hung from the high ceiling like icy thorns, casting a cold, artificial glow over the space. Men lounged carelessly on plush, cushioned mattresses spread across the floor, their predatory eyes fixing onto me the very millisecond I stepped into the room.

I felt their heavy gazes, thick with lust and unearned entitlement, crawl over my bare skin like a slow-moving poison. Some of them clutched fragrant gajras tied around their wrists, lazily toying with the delicate white flowers as though they were trophies they had already won. My knees trembled violently under the weight of my heavy skirt, but I forced myself to stand perfectly still as they whispered and chuckled among themselves, their low words dripping with indecency.

Sahab strode into the center of the hall, joining them and laughing loudly. The utter humiliation he had orchestrated was nothing more than a private show meant for his friends' twisted entertainment. He pointed a dramatic finger at me, his deep voice booming across the hall in total mockery.

"Dekho, yeh hai meri jaan! Aaj yeh naachnewali banegi. Itni sundar hai, hai na?"

["Look, this is my jaan! Today she will become a dancer. She is so beautiful, isn't she?"]

His friends laughed along in unison, their cruel, degrading comments piercing my ears like needles.

"Kya baat hai, Sahab! Aapki chuni hui cheezein toh waise bhi laajawab hoti hain," one of them drawled, his slimy tone making my stomach turn.

["Incredible, Sahab! The things you choose are always wonderful anyway."]

"Magar dekho toh," another one added, chuckling oilily as he leaned back on a cushion. "Sharma rahi hai! Sharam toh is jaise cheezon ko karni nahi chaahiye. Hai na, Sahab?"

["But look at her, she is feeling shy! Things like this shouldn't feel shame. Isn't that right, Sahab?"]

Their words were razor-sharp knives, systematically slashing away at whatever fragile dignity I had left. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, to tell them that I was a human being—not a toy, not a mindless puppet for their crude amusement. But my voice refused to come out. My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides, my fingernails digging so deeply into my palms that they drew blood, fighting back the hot tears that threatened to spill over.

Sahab walked over to me, his smug, untouchable smile perfectly intact. He leaned in close, whispering just loud enough for my ears alone. "Toh, jaan. Aazaadi chaahiye na tumhe? Dekho, yeh tumhari aazaadi ka pehla kadam hai. Naacho inke liye. Manoranjan karo."

["So, jaan. You want your freedom, don't you? Look, this is the very first step toward your freedom. Dance for them. Entertain them."]

I snapped my head up, turning to him as my eyes blazed with a sudden, silent defiance. "Main yeh nahi karungi," I said through tightly gritted teeth, barely able to keep my body from shaking.

["I am not doing this."]

His face darkened in a split second, his hand shooting out like a whip to grab my chin in a bruising grip, forcing me to look up into his enraged eyes. "Tumhe lagta hai, tumhare paas koi aur raasta hai?" he hissed out, his voice a deadly whisper. "Tumhari aazaadi ka sapna, jaan, main tod ke rakh doonga."

["Do you truly think you have any other choice? Your dream of freedom, jaan... I will break it into pieces."]

He let go of my face with a harsh shove, pushing me violently forward into the very center of the hall. The men instantly erupted into loud clapping, cheering, and hollering as though this horrific humiliation were some grand, beautiful performance they had been eagerly waiting for.

"Naacho," Sahab ordered sharply, his booming voice echoing across the wide hall.

["Dance now."]

I took a deep, ragged breath, the sheer weight of the public humiliation pressing heavily down on my chest. This wasn't just about making me perform anymore. This was a calculated tactic to break my spirit, systematically shattering whatever little hope I had left for a future of freedom.

I felt my legs move, my body responding mechanically as the music flared. Each step felt like heavy iron chains pulling tighter and tighter around my ankles. Every single gaze crawling over me felt like sharp daggers piercing through my skin. Hot tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to keep moving, knowing with absolute certainty that if I stopped now, they would win completely.

As I moved, each sway of my body felt like a direct betrayal of my own dignity; a sudden pang struck deep within my chest—a profound realization that hit me harder than Sahab's cruel grip ever could.

This... This must be exactly how Tara has felt all these years.

The loud laughter, the disgusting leers, the casual way these men clapped as though I were nothing more than a mindless puppet performing on strings—it wasn't just humiliating. It was soul-crushing. I could see the truth clearly now, in every forced movement of my limbs, in every degrading comment hurled my way by the audience. Tara had endured this exact hell, not for herself, but for me.

All these years, she danced not because she wanted to, but because she had to. She bore the immense weight of this ugliness every single day, her spirit deeply bruised but her resolve entirely unbroken. And why? To protect me. To act as a shield between me and this very nightmare, ensuring my feet would never have to step into this cursed spotlight.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I continued the routine, each movement feeling heavier than the last. I thought of Tara—her infinite resilience, her quiet strength, her silent sacrifices. She had never once told me how much it hurt, or how every single night chipped away another piece of her soul. Instead, she always came back to our room, smiled through her exhaustion, held my hand, and whispered words of comfort even when she had absolutely none left for herself.

She gave up her freedom so I could dream of mine.

But now, here I was, completely trapped in the very chains she had fought so fiercely to keep away from me. It broke something fundamental inside of me to realize that I hadn't truly understood her pain until this exact moment, until I was drowning in the same suffocating despair.

I wanted to stop. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run until my lungs burst. But Sahab's eyes bore into me like twin blades, and the men's mocking laughter surrounded me like an iron cage.

As the music finally came to a halt, the grand hall buzzed with low murmurs and lewd chuckles, but I couldn't hear any of it over the roaring sound of my own heartbeat. My chest heaved violently with exhaustion, my feet ached terribly under the heavy fabric of my lehenga, and my soul felt as if it had been ripped apart and left bleeding on the cold floorboards.

Sahab stood up from his plush cushion, the air in the room shifting instantly as his commanding presence loomed over me. I dared not look at him directly, but I could feel his piercing, possessive gaze burning into my skin. The room grew dead silent, the tension crackling between us like a live wire.

He walked toward me, his steps measured, slow, and deliberate. Stopping just a breath away from my face, he tilted his head and smirked. "Jaan, ab tumhe azaadi chahiye—mujhse?" His voice was incredibly soft, almost tender, but it was laced with a thick mockery that made my heart sink further into hopelessness.

["Darling, now you want freedom—from me?"]

I couldn't stop the hot tears that welled up in my eyes, spilling over my painted cheeks without my permission. I shook my head weakly, the overwhelming sense of shame and total defeat anchoring my feet to the ground. "Nahi, Sahab," I whispered, my voice trembling but forced to be firm.

["No, Sahab."]

His smirk deepened in triumph. He reached out, his long fingers brushing casually against my hair. I flinched instinctively at the contact, but I didn't pull away. I was too drained, too entirely empty to resist. He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch unnervingly calm.

"Kitna aasaan tha na, jaan?" he murmured, his voice a chilling caress against my ear. His knuckles brushed lazily down my cheek before he tapped it lightly, almost mockingly. "Tumne itni mehnat karwaayi mujhse," he said with a dry, amused chuckle, as though entertained by the brutal spectacle I had been forced to perform.

["How easy it was, jaan? You made me work so hard."]

I closed my eyes tight, trying to block out his words, his face, and the entirety of this living nightmare. But there is no escape. Not yet.

"Dekha, doston," Sahab called out loudly, turning his attention to the wealthy men seated around the perimeter of the room. "Meri jaan kitni samajhdaar ho gayi hai. Ab samajh aaya usse ki azaadi chahiye toh kiske paas jaana padega."

["See, friends? My jaan has become so wise. Now she finally understands that if she wants her freedom, who she will have to crawl back to."]

The men erupted into crude laughter once more, their cruel jeers filling the air as Sahab turned his dark eyes back to me.

"Tumhe samajhne mein der lagi, par koi baat nahi," he said, his hand shooting forward to grip my chin tightly, forcing me to look directly into his cold eyes. "Ab tum meri ho, jaan. Sirf meri. Yeh baat mat bhoolna."

["It took you a while to understand, but that's okay. Now you are mine, jaan. Only mine. Don't you dare forget this."]

With a harsh movement, Sahab shoved me sharply away from him. He stepped back with a satisfied smirk and turned toward the door where Amma stood waiting. "Malika! Deepti ko le jao kamre mein. Aaj jaan ne bohot mehnat ki."

["Malika! Take Deepti back to her room. Today, Jaan worked very hard for us."]

Amma nodded obediently, but the dark fire of resentment in her eyes was unmistakable. She strode quickly toward me, her grip vice-like as she grabbed my bare arm and violently yanked me upward. My weak legs wobbled beneath the weight of my heavy skirt, but I had no choice but to stumble forward after her.

She dragged me ruthlessly down the dimly lit hallway, the muffled laughter and vulgar chatter of Sahab's guests slowly fading into the distance behind us. When we finally reached the threshold of my room, she threw me onto the bed like a discarded rag doll. I winced sharply as my bruised back hit the hard mattress, but Amma's piercing, cold gaze held absolutely no maternal sympathy.

"Aaj toh samajh gayi hogi tum," she spat out, her voice freezing the air in the room. "Ek baar yahan ek ladki aa gayi, toh woh kabhi aazaad nahi ho sakti."

["Today, you must have finally understood. Once a girl comes into this house, she can never be free."]

Her words were like a physical dagger plunged into my already wounded soul, twisting deeper with every single syllable. She didn't bother waiting for a response. Turning sharply on her heel, she slammed the heavy wooden door shut behind her. The loud click of the lock turning from the outside echoed in the suffocating silence.

For a long time, I stayed exactly where I fell, motionless, staring blankly up at the cracked ceiling as hot tears streamed down the sides of my face. My body ached, my spirit felt entirely crushed under his heel, and my heart carried the unbearable, suffocating weight of total despair.

But as the heavy silence fully settled around me, a small, stubborn voice deep inside my chest whispered Tara's words once more: Deepu, you have to fight for yourself.

I clenched my fists tight against the mattress, my fingernails digging deeply into my palms as I let out a shaky, trembling breath through my teeth. This isn't over. I didn't know how, and I didn't know when, but I refused to let Sahab, Amma, or anyone else in this world permanently decide my fate.

The walls of this brothel might have trapped my body for tonight, but my spirit refused to be caged. Someday, somehow, I would reclaim my freedom.

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AUTHOR NOTE 🤍

Oh my goodness, Shyrahearts... Chapter 3 of Burning Vendetta is officially done, and my heart is completely heavy right now. 😭 Broken into pieces!

How was the chapter?? Which part made your emotions skyrocket the most? Let me know all your thoughts in the comments!

Writing Deepti's first dance was so incredibly painful. Seeing her stand in the center of that grand hall, feeling completely trapped like a puppet on strings, was heartbreaking. But that moment where she finally understood the weight of Tara's silent sacrifices all these years? It literally brought tears to my eyes. 💔 The bond between these two sisters is so pure, yet so tragic.

And ugh, Sahab! Just when I thought he couldn't get any more disgusting, he calls her "property" and tries to break her spirit completely. Do you think Deepti will be able to hold onto that tiny spark of defiance she found at the end of the chapter? Or will Malika Jaan and Sahab crush her completely?

Thank you so much for the endless love and support on this new journey! Let's smash our targets for the next update!

Goal for Chapter 4: 80 Votes | 40 Comments

Byee! See you in the comments!

With Love,
Authorshyra 🩷🫶🏻