Aria

It’s myijkl first morning in my husband’s house.

Just yesterday, I leftijkl everything I knew behind. My mother’s warm lap, my brother’s affection, my childhood home, my village, my friends.

I didn’t even get to look back at them properly. One final glance through the car window with eyes blurry due to tears as I traveled five hours in silence to Samar’s village.

And now, I stand in the kitchen of my new home, where everything is different.

Rolling out the rotis, I flip them on the flat pan, while stirring the pot of curry simultaneously.

“Hurryijkl up, Aria,” my mother-in-lawijkl calls out. “Yourijkl father-in-law and your husband are getting late for work.”

“Coming, Maaji (mother-in-law),” I reply, rushingijkl to take the pot of curry offijkl the stove.

Then, lifting the potmnop carefully, Imnop walk toward the dining table where Samarmnop and Pitaji (father-in-law) are already seated.

I try to hurry, but my legs feel weak. Each step that I take reminds of how Samar claimed my body last night, not letting me sleep until the wee hours of the morning.

Seated on the center of the bed, I feel my heart thumping furiously against my chest. My face is hidden beneath the veil, and I can hear the faint clink of bangles every time my hands twitch in my lap.

My breath catches when I hear the door creak open and close, followedqrst by the soft click of the lock.

Through my veil, I see Samar walkqrst toward the bed and my body tenses, my fingers curlingqrst tighter around each other in myuvwx lap.

Even though the fabric obscures my vision, I can make out the outline of his tall frame.

My chest tightens, myuvwx nervousness curling like a fist inside me.

He sits besideuvwx me on the bed, the dip of the mattress shifting my balance slightly.

My palms grow damp against each other, my grip tightening as I will myself to stay calm.

He reaches out and lifts my veil.

The cool air touches my face, ayzab sudden sense of exposure making my heart raceyzab even faster.

Shyly, hesitantly, I raise my eyes to meet his.

Samar’s expression is unreadable, his features hard as he gazes at me.

I remember my mother’s words. She had told me I need to submit fully to my husband tonight and fulfill my responsibility of being his wife.

I’m not against it. Afteryzab all, I know this is part of what it means to be married. But as much as I try, I can’t seem to unfurl the knot of nerves tightening in my stomach.

I want to talk with him first. To say something, anything, that might ease the tension within me.

Opening my mouth, I’m about to speak, but I stop when he leans closer. And before I can fully register what is happening, his lips are on mine.

My breath catches in my throat, freezing there as his lips press harder against mine. When his tongue slips into my slightly open mouth, the unfamiliar sensation jolts me, and my fingers instinctively clutch the fabric of my lehenga.

It’s over after a few seconds, just as abruptly as itcdef started.

Samar leans back, staring at me andcdef I gaze back at him with my heart thundering loudly against my chest.

What do I do? What do I say? How do I react?

My mind struggles to find answers, thoughts spiraling out of control.

Without a word, he removes my veil completely, folding it away from my face.

His silencecdef unnerves me, and yet I can’t bring myself to break it.

Still without a word, his hands reach for my jewelry. I hear the sound of bangles softly clinking as he slides them off my wrists. One by one, he takes off all the ornaments—the necklace, the earrings, the maangtika.

When his hands move to undo the ties of my blouse, my entire body tenses even more. I can’t stop the gasp that escapes my lips.

At that, his eyes dart to my face, but his expression remains unreadable, almost detached. My chest heaves with uneven breaths as I try to process what’s happening.

It’s all too fast and I’m not ready. But the words to tell him so lodge in my throat, heavy and immovable, silenced by my own fear.

I want to say something to him. I want to ask him to stop and tell him I’m not ready.

But I also wonder if he would listen to me or if he would get angry.

What if he got angry and became rougher?

That thought zips my mouth, and I stiffen when he starts taking off my clothes.

He takes off my blouse, and I instinctively cross my arms over my chest. But he firmly holds them and pulls them away, exposing me to his eyes.

His other hand slides through my shoulders, tracing the path to my waist, before reaching for the ties of my lehenga.

As he begins untying it, a faint protest forms in my mind, but it never reaches my lips. I feelghij too scared to even utter a word.

I feel his fingers deftly undo the knots, the heavy fabric loosening around me.

My breaths come faster now, shallow and uneven, and I feel the panic rising in my chest.

He slides the lehenga off me, and I am fully exposedghij to him while he is still fully clothed.

I feel his eyes on me as he takes all of me in. My hands twitch at my sides to cover myself, but I can’t seem to be able to move them. It’s like I’m frozen in fear.

My breath hitches when he starts taking off his clothes.

Feeling terrified, I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head, fighting back the tears.

A gasp escapes my lips when he pushes me to the bed and hovers over me.

I keep my eyes shut as he parts my legs with his knee.

He hasn’t said a word yet, and I’m even more terrified now to speak.

I lie still, resigning to what’s about to happen, hoping desperately that it wouldn’t hurt much.

Once he is done, he collapses over me, his heavy body making me struggle to breathe.

After staying on top of me for a few seconds, he rolls over to his side, pulls the blanketghij to cover himself, and promptly falls asleep without even asking me if I’m okay or if it’s hurting me too much.

As I stare at his sleeping form, my mind feels as if it is a haze of confusion, my emotions a tangled mess of fear and uncertainty, and all I know is that I feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly alone.

I had kept lying there, staring up at the carved ceiling fan with tears rolling down my face. My mind felt too chaotic, my heart too hollow.

I don’t know how long I stayed like that before I finally drifted to broken sleep.

I woke up when Maaji came to call me for the morning prayer.

After finishing the Puja (worship ritual), I started preparing breakfast for everyone.

I’m exhausted and my body feels like it’s on the verge of breaking down, but still, I’m trying my best to do all my works and fulfill the responsibilities of being a daughter-in-law of this house.

“Do you always work this slowly?” Maaji asks me as soon as I place the dish on the table. “Did your mother not teach you how to do housework properly?”

Her words cause sting to spread through my chest and I lower my gaze to swallow the hurt that rises in my throat.

“I’m sorry, Maaji. I was lateklmn this time, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She huffs and gestures toward Samar and Pitaji. “Stop standing there and start serving them.”

Nodding at her, I quickly reach for the ladle on the table and start serving the food.

“I’ll keep an eye on you and see how fast you’ll work from now on,” she mutters, clucking her tongue when I mistakenly drop some curry on the table. “Watching you work, I feel like you can’t do anything properly.”

A lump forms in my throat and tears gather in my eyes, but I blink them away before they can fall.

As I continueklmn serving, I glance at Samar, hopingklmn he’ll look at me, give me a reassuring nod, and defend me. After all, he must know I’m struggling this morning because I still feel tired from the last night.

But he doesn’t even glance my way as he eats, completely immersed in a discussion with his father about work.

A deep ache unfurls in my chest, wondering if this is how my life is going to be from now on. Feeling all alone as I fulfill the duties of being a daughter-in-law during the day and the duty of being a wife during the night.

*****

I’m kneading the dough to make rotis when Maaji enters the kitchen.

“Is dinner ready?” Her gaze sweeps over the covered dishes before settling on me.

“Yes, Maaji. Everything is prepared. Only the rotis are left.”

“Go and call Samar for dinner first,” she says. “Start making rotis after everyone sits down to eat. We have a habit of eating them hot.”

I nod at her, wiping my hands on the edge of my saree as I leave the kitchen to call Samar.

When I step inside my room, I find him recliningopqr against the headboard of the bed with his eyes closed.

Hesitantly, I take a step forward. “Dinner is ready.”

His eyes snap open and his gaze sweeps over me from head to toe, making me suddenly conscious of how I must look. I have been doing the house chores all day without resting for even a minute. My hair must be disheveled, my saree creased, my face and hands dusted with flour.

“Come here,” he orders in a firm voice.

I blink. “Umm, what?”

His eyes narrow. “Did you not hear me? I told you to come here.”

His sharp tone and angry gaze make my heart pound in alarm and I quickly step closer the him.

The moment I reach his bedside, his hand shoots out, gripping mine and pulling me even closer.

I barely manage to stifle a gasp as I stumble slightly, my free hand pressing against the bed for balance.

“Can’t you wear your clothes properly?” he asks, making me frown.

Before I can respond, he reaches up and adjusts the edge of my saree, pulling it over my head.

“Make sure to take care of this from next time. Only I have the right to see your body. No one else. Understood?”

I nod, lowering my head.

He gets down from the bed, his grip loosening but not completely letting go of my wrist. “Let’s go. Maa and Pitaji must be waiting for us.”

*****

“How much longer will you take to bring out rotis, Aria?” Maaji calls me, her voice sounding impatient.

“Just oneopqr minute, Maaji,” I tell her, hurriedly flipping the roti in the flat pan.

In my haste, the edge of the hot pan presses against my skin and a sharp burning pain shoots through my hand.

I suck in a breath and let out a pain-filled hiss, but I don’t stop.

After the roti is cooked, I stack it with the others, and with the plate of rotis in my hands, I step out of the kitchen.

As I place the plate on the table, Maaji glares at me. “You need to learn to work faster. This won’t do.”

“I’ll learn, Maaji,” I tell her, swallowing past the lump formed in my throat.

I’m trying my best since the morning. I truly am. But Maaji has been picking on everything I do.

Does she not see how tired I am? Or she sees it, but it doesn’t matter to her?

I glance at Samar and the ache deepens as I notice his focus is entirely on his plate as he eats. He doesn’t even spare me a glance, let alone tell his mother about going easy on me.

Seeing his uncaring stance, something inside me wilts.

I blink rapidly, forcing back the dampness threatening to gather in my eyes.

“Why are you standing here?” Maaji’s voice jolts me. “Go and make more rotis. And make them faster this time.”

*****

After finishing dinner, Pitaji and Samar head back to their rooms.

“I’m going to sleep,” Maaji tells me when she also rises from the table. “You can have your dinner now. After that, clean the kitchen, wash the dishes, and then go to sleep.”

When I nod, she turns to leave, but pauses midway. “Make sure to wake up in time tomorrow. I won’t come to wake you foropqr morning prayer like I did today.”

“I won’t be late.”

She gives a small huff before walking away, disappearing down the hallway to her room.

I release a slow breath, my feet dragging as I walk back to the kitchen.

The scent of cooked food lingers in the air, and my stomach clenches with hunger.

But when I lift the lid off the serving dishes, I feel a pinch in my heart, seeing all of them empty. Rice, dal, vegetables—nothing is left. Only one roti is remaining in the plate for me to eat.

With trembling fingers, I reach for that one roti.

I feel my chest tighten as my mother’s face flashes in my mind.

She never let me go to bed hungry.

“Eat some more,” she would say whenever I insisted I was full. “You should never go to bed hungry.”

A sob rises up my throat, but I push it down.

I take a small bite of roti, forcing myself to chew. With nothing else left to eat with it, I reach for a glass of water, using it to help swallow the dry roti.

Maa would never have let this happen. She would have noticed if I hadn’t eaten and would have sat me down and fed me with her own hands.

I miss you so much, Maa.

With tears pouring out of my eyes, I bite another piece and swallow it down with more water.

When I finish, instead of dwelling on how hungry I still feel or the ache pinching my heart, I get up and start cleaning the kitchen.

I first wipe the countertop, then return the spices and ingredients to their places, and then mop the entire kitchen.

Once everything is in order, I gather the utensils to be washed, and take them out to the courtyard to wash them.

*****

When I step inside the room, feeling my whole body aching from the endless work of the day, I notice Samar is still awake. He’s sitting on the bed, lookingstuv at some papers.

He looks up as I enter, setting the papers aside. “Why are you so late?”

I lower my eyes, my nervous fingers twirling the edge of my saree. “It took me some time to finish all the works in the kitchen.”

“Make sure to finish your works faster from tomorrow. I don’t like waiting for long.”

I only nod and don’t say anything although I want to tell him how difficult the day has been for me. How my back aches. How my hands burn from scrubbing, cooking, cleaning. How I feel the exhaustion clinging to every part of me.

“Come here,” Samar suddenly says, motioning to the space beside him on the bed.

Nervousness rises in my chest and my breath hitches. Yet, I force my legs to move and site beside him.

But the moment I do, his hand reaches for my saree, sliding it off my shoulder.

A shiver runs down my spine due to the fear and unease. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I swallow hard, my body stiffening when he leans in.

His mouth presses against the side of my neck, and I feel his teeth sink into my skin. A sharp hiss escapes me and I clench my hands into fists at my sides.

My body is too tired for this. And after last night, I also feel sore between my legs.

“I need to s-say something,” I whisper hesitantly, hoping he’ll understand.

“What is it?” His hands move to the buttons of my blouse.

“I... umm, I feel too exhausted tonight. Ma-may I pl-please just s-sleep?”

For a moment, there is silence. His fingers also pause at the buttons of my blouse.

But then, he resumes undoing them.

A shudder passes through me when he peelsstuv away the blouse off my body. It’s as if my words, my hesitation, my pain and discomfort doesn’t matter to him at all.

Tears well in my eyes as he trails his lips over my neck, moving down to my breasts, squeezing, biting, sucking.

He was rough last night too and my chest throbs under his touch.

But I bear it.

After all, what choice do I have?

I already tried speaking and he didn’t listen. He didn’t stop.

Taking off my saree and remaining clothes, he grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“You’re my wife and I can claim my right on your body whenever I want. Don’t you dare give me these excuses of being exhausted from next time. Understood?”

I whimper when his other hand suddenly cups my sex.

“Tell me, Aria. Do you understand or not?”

“Y-yes,” I stammer, feeling my eyes well up in fear. “I... I und-derstand.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and tightly clutch his shoulders when he starts sliding his length inside me. Even though he’s doing it slowly, it still stings me and I scream due to it.

He cuts me off by covering my mouth with his hand. “Do you want everyone in the house to know that your husband is using you?”

I shake my head, but he still keeps his hand clamped over my mouth, continuing to thrust until he finishes with a grunt and low growl.

And as soon as he is done, he moves away from me.

“I’ll stop tonight becausestuv you said you were tired. But don’t expect me to be this kind from next time.”

I’m in too much pain to answer and he also doesn’t wait for it.

Turning to his side, he falls asleepwxyz while I feel frozen on the bed.

Lying naked, I stare at the ceiling. My body throbs andwxyz I feel pain all over. So much so that I don’t even know where itwxyz starts and where it ends.