Dassani Brides

Chapter 7

Geetanjali felt a crushing pressure at the back of her neck, followed by a sharp ringing sound in her ears that overwhelmed her senses. The next instant, her body was slammed against the cold, unyielding wall. A flash of realization hit her—was she really this fragile? How had it come to this? Her breath hitched painfully as moisture clung to her face, mingling indistinguishably between sweat and tears. The line between the two blurred, but she couldn’t stop to decipher which was which, for the burning pain in her body, and the deeper agony in her soul, consumed her whole.

The physical blow was reverberating through her body, but more than that, the terror of her own fragility sent a chill down her spine. She gasped for breath, her chest rising and falling in erratic bursts, each inhale ragged, uneven, like a woman gasping for air in the depths of a nightmarish dream. Her back pressed harder against the rough texture of the wall as if she could somehow merge with the stone, disappear into it, and escape this cruel reality. But no matter how much she wished it, the wall was unforgiving, as was the hand that had shoved her into it.

Shiv’s grip tightened around the nape of her neck, his fingers digging into her flesh with an unspoken threat that traveled directly through her skin, into her trembling heart. His eyes burned with the rage he tried to control, and his jaw clenched with the fury that simmered just beneath the surface of his composed demeanor. His thumb pressed a pulsating vein in her neck, a subtle yet terrifying reminder of the control he held over her life. "Do not play with my patience," his voice seethed, each word laced with a venomous edge.

But before he could finish his warning, Geetanjali's breaking point was reached. A guttural, desperate cry tore itself from her throat, filling the room with the raw, haunting sound of her anguish. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto her knees, then crumbled further onto the cold floor. Her body folded in on itself as though it could shield her from the terror she faced.

With trembling hands, she clasped them together in front of her chest, her palms pressed tight as if in prayer. Her voice was a fractured mess of sobs, her words tumbling over one another, heavy with desperation and pleading. "Please, don't do this to me... I’m sorry, so sorry... I beg you, please let me go. Please, I am begging you, don’t do this. I’m not ready, I can’t be your wife. I can’t... I just can’t. Please let me go. Komal and Sudha... Please, let us go. We won’t tell anyone anything. We’ll give back the money, I swear. I don’t want to do this!"

Her broken pleas filled the air, each word punctuated by gasping sobs that seemed to tear at her very soul. The fear that engulfed her was palpable, suffocating. She curled into herself, shielding her face with her hands, as though hiding from the inevitable.

Shiv, still crouched at her level, watched her with a hardness that had become all too familiar. But something flickered in his eyes, something she hadn’t seen before—a trace of humanity, perhaps? He reached out his hand as if to touch her, to calm her, but the moment his fingers neared her, she recoiled violently, scrambling backward in a frantic motion. Her body reacted on pure instinct, driven by fear so deep it bordered on primal.

Seeing her retreat from his touch, Shiv paused, pulling his hand back, letting it drop to his side. His face remained stern, but his eyes—his eyes held something different. He spoke her name softly, his voice still commanding but not as cold as before. To Geetanjali, the sound of her name from his lips felt like a signal to stop, to listen. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if this was the gentlest he had ever been with her, and if that meant anything at all.

"Look at me," Shiv demanded, his voice calm yet unyielding. Her body obeyed the command even though her mind fought it. She raised her tear-soaked eyes to meet his, her expression pleading for the mercy she knew she wouldn't receive. Her lips trembled, though the sobs had subsided for the moment, leaving behind an empty, hollow feeling in her chest.

"You are not going anywhere," Shiv said with certainty, his voice final. "This is your duty, and it will happen."

His words cut through her like a blade, cold and sharp. Her tears were drying on her cheeks, but her heart bled from a thousand invisible wounds. The fear that had previously clouded her mind began to recede slightly, replaced by a quiet realization. His words made sense now, in the cruelest of ways. His sense of duty, his rigid moral compass, dictated his actions. It was not malice that drove him but obligation, though that did little to soften the blow.

For as long as she had known him, Shiv had been a man of duty. His eyes betrayed no emotion, but deep within their depths, she saw it—the torment. He despised this just as much as she did, if not more. He was trapped, just as she was. But in his mind, there was no escape, no alternative. The path they walked had been carved out long ago, and all that remained was for them to follow it to its bitter end.

Geetanjali’s fear morphed into something more painful—betrayal. She felt ruined, not by his force or his threats, but by his indifference. He didn’t want this either, but he was willing to make her endure it regardless. Her chest heaved with silent sobs, and she looked away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. How could she show him the depths of the pain his words inflicted on her? How could she let him see how profoundly she was shattered by the man who was her husband, but never truly could be?

She felt the shadow of his presence lift, the oppressive weight that had loomed over her now retreating. She sensed his feet step back, the space between them growing. He rose to his full height, restoring the vast gulf that separated him from her, both in status and in spirit. She remained on the floor, broken and defeated.

“Take your time to get comfortable with the idea,” Shiv said, his tone measured, detached. “I assure you, I have no intention of forcing you. You have a week. After that, I will not tolerate any more defiance.”

The coldness of his words hit her like another blow, sealing her fate with a chilling finality. She didn’t watch him leave; she couldn’t bear to. But she heard the door open, followed by the heavy, deliberate sound of his footsteps retreating. The door clicked shut behind him, and just like that, the ultimatum was laid before her. A week. That was all the time she had.

Alone in the room, Geetanjali’s body trembled with the realization of what lay ahead. Her dreams, her hopes, her very essence—Shiv was on the verge of destroying it all. But as she sat there, curled on the floor, a fire began to flicker inside her, small at first but growing stronger with each passing moment.

She was not the kind of woman who gave in easily. She had never been one to surrender to circumstances, and she would not start now. This was not the end of her story. This was a war now—a war for her freedom. Freedom to choose, freedom to decide how she lived her life. And no matter what Shiv believed, no matter what role he thought he had the right to play in her fate, Geetanjali knew one thing with absolute certainty: She would not be made a puppet, not by Shiv, not by anyone.

This was her life, and she would fight for it.