Bruises Behind Closed Doors
1695 Words
The Violence
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His hand flew across her cheek—
SMACK.
The sound tore through the night.
Arav, lying in the guest room, shot up. His heart leaped to his throat.
That sound… it was unmistakable.
A slap.
His fists clenched. His jaw locked. He wanted to run upstairs, break the door, throw the man to the ground.
But he sat frozen, his chest hammering, his eyes wet.
Upstairs, Ishika held her burning cheek, tears spilling uncontrollably.
Her husband’s eyes blazed. “Don’t test me, Ishika. You are mine. Do you hear me? Mine!”
“No…” she sobbed, shaking her head violently. “I don’t want this… I can’t…”
He grabbed her arm, twisting it hard. She cried out in pain.
But her cries only fueled him further.
Arav’s body shook in the guest room. Every muffled scream, every thud, every cry reached his ears like knives stabbing his heart.
He pressed his hands over his ears, but he couldn’t block her voice.
Her sobs cut through the walls.
Her “no” echoed like a death bell.
And then came silence, broken only by the sound of the bed creaking, her muffled sobs buried under his weight.
Arav felt like someone had ripped open his chest and poured acid inside.
He wanted to die.
He wanted to kill.
He wanted to take her away right then.
But he lay still, paralyzed by fear, by helplessness, by the chains of circumstances.
Tears streamed down his face. He bit his fist to stop from screaming.
“Ishika… I am here. Forgive me for not saving you tonight. Forgive me…”
The Morning Mask
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When morning came, the house looked normal again.
Birds chirped outside, women in nearby houses swept their courtyards, children ran with kites.
Veer stretched and yawned in the guest room, unaware of the storm that had passed.
Arav sat on the bed, pale, broken, his eyes red from a sleepless night.
At the breakfast table, Ishika’s husband smiled as if nothing had happened. He offered tea, cracked jokes, spoke to Veer like a perfect host.
He even looked at Arav, his eyes calm, hiding every shadow of last night’s cruelty.
And then Ishika entered.
Her saree was neatly draped. Her hair was tied. Her face carried a faint smile.
To the world, she looked normal.
But Arav’s eyes saw deeper. Her gaze avoided everyone. But when it finally met his—just for a second—he saw it all.
Her brokenness.
Her silent scream.
Her helpless plea.
Her lips didn’t move, but her eyes spoke louder than words:
“Save me, Arav. Take me away. I can’t survive this anymore.”
Arav’s throat burned. He wanted to stand, to shout, to drag her out of that house. But Veer sat there, laughing, sipping tea, completely blind.
And Arav could do nothing. Nothing but die inside.
When they finally left, Arav turned one last time at the door.
Ishika stood there, holding the empty tray.
Her lips trembled, but she forced a smile for the world.
Only Arav saw the tears glistening in her eyes.
Only Arav knew how her soul had been crushed last night.
He stepped into the car, his chest heavy with pain, his eyes wet with fire.
As the house disappeared in the distance, Arav whispered to himself, a promise carved in blood:
“I won’t let her suffer anymore. Whatever it takes… Ishika will be mine. Forever.”
The Painful Confession
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The call was quiet for a long moment. Ishika’s breathing trembled, like she was holding something heavy in her throat. Finally, she spoke.
“Arav… do you want to know what he did last night?”
Arav froze. His hand gripped the phone tighter. “Only if you want to tell me. You don’t have to—”
“I have to,” she whispered. “Because otherwise you will never know what my nights truly are. You will only imagine. And imagination is kinder than reality.”
Her words hit him like stones. He swallowed, bracing himself.
“Tell me, Ishika. I will listen. Every word.”
The Mask of a Husband
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She exhaled slowly, the sound more like a sob.
“You see him smiling in front of people, Arav. Helping neighbors, touching elders’ feet. He is everyone’s perfect man. But inside the walls of our room…” She paused, then continued with steel in her voice, “he is a jailor. He thinks being my husband means owning me like property.”
Her tone shook, and then steadied, as if forcing herself to bleed out truth:
“Last night, when I said no, his pride broke. Not his desire—his pride. He doesn’t see me as a woman with a voice. He sees me as a challenge. And when I resist, he doesn’t stop. He… punishes me for it.”
Arav’s chest burned. His knuckles went white around the phone.
The Assault
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Ishika’s words came heavy, broken, but each one carved deep.
“He caught my hands… both at once. Pressed them so hard against the bed I thought my bones would snap. I struggled, Arav, I really did. But his strength is not just in muscles—it is in the belief that he has the right.”
Her voice broke. “When I cried, he slapped me again and again until my ears rang. My face was burning, but he didn’t care. He only wanted me silent. My tears… they made him angrier. He held my hair, yanked my head back, and forced me to look at him. He wanted me to see his power. To see that I couldn’t run, couldn’t hide.”
Arav pressed his palm to his eyes, tears spilling despite him. He wanted to scream, to smash something. But he stayed quiet—she needed his silence, not his rage.
Her voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “He forced himself into my space, into my body. I begged, Arav. I said please, not like this, please. But he doesn’t understand begging—he only understands surrender. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied. And when it was over… he turned away and slept. Just like that. Like nothing happened. Like I was a plate he had eaten from and pushed aside.”
Her words cracked into sobs. “I lay there, shaking, holding my own arms because there was no one else to hold me. I cried into the pillow so he wouldn’t hear. My body was still hurting, my face was burning from the slaps, but the worst pain was here—” she pressed her chest audibly, “—in my heart. Because I realized I am not a wife to him, Arav. I am just… an object he uses.”
Arav’s Guilt
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Arav couldn’t stop himself. His voice burst out, raw.
“Ishika, stop—please, stop hurting yourself by saying this. I can’t bear it.”
But she continued, determined.
“No. You must hear it. You must know the difference. Because when you touched me last night in the corridor, when you kissed me, I felt alive. I felt human. When he touched me, I felt… broken. Violated. Empty.”
Arav’s tears fell freely now. He pressed his forehead against the wall, whispering, “God forgive me… I should have done something. I heard the slap, Ishika. I heard your cries. And I lay there like a coward.”
“No!” she said fiercely, through her sobs. “Don’t you dare call yourself that. If you had come, if you had fought, he would have destroyed you. He would have destroyed us both. I couldn’t lose you like that. You were my one safe place. Even if you were only a room away, knowing you were there gave me strength.”
Arav’s chest shook. “But you suffered alone.”
Her answer was soft, but strong: “I suffer every night, Arav. Last night wasn’t new. The only new thing was you. That’s why it cut deeper. Because after feeling your love, your tenderness, going back to his cruelty was like being pushed from heaven into hell.”
The Modern Woman
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Her voice steadied again, though it still trembled with pain. “Do you know why it hurts so much? Because I am not an old woman trapped in old rules. My thoughts are modern, Arav. I believe love should be equal. I believe a wife is not property. I believe a woman’s body is her own. I dreamed of a husband who would laugh with me, respect me, touch me with care. But instead, I got a man who only knows hunger, not love.”
There was a pause, and then she added, almost broken: “Last night, I realized that everything I ever wanted from marriage, I only found in you. One hug from you gave me more than eleven years in that house. One kiss from you gave me my soul back.”
The Silent Storm
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Arav couldn’t speak. His throat was closed, his body trembling. He pressed the phone harder against his ear as if wanting to pull her through the line.
Finally, he whispered, “Ishika… listen to me. You are not weak. You are not dirty. You are the strongest soul I have ever known. And I swear… one day I will take you out of this hell. You will never cry alone again.”
Ishika let out a long, shaky breath. “Arav… don’t promise what will destroy you. Just promise me one thing—never let me forget who I really am. Because he tries every night to erase me. But when I hear your voice, I remember.”
“I promise,” he said, tears soaking his face. “Every day, every night, I’ll remind you. You are not his possession. You are my Ishika. You are love itself.”
The line went quiet, only their breaths filling the silence.
Two broken hearts clinging to each other across distance.
Two souls making a vow the world would never understand.
- Writer
