That day when she stepped into the house, her feet barely touched the ground—she was glowing with joy. After all, she had secured admission to the government college in the city. The entire way home, she had been lost in dreams—of finishing her education, of landing a job, of becoming someone important. How her parents would walk with pride, with their heads held high. How that grocer of their locality who always hesitated to offer them credit? He wouldn’t dare anymore. Well they wouldn't need any credit now from him. No, not anymore.

Smiling to herself, lost in her thoughts, the girl pushed open the front gate and stepped inside. Her mother rushed forward and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

“Amma!” she giggled, surprised.

“My daughter! Oh, your fate has bloomed" - Her mother turned to face her husband - "Meghu’s father, didn’t I always say it? Our Megha is destined to rule, to rise... Sharp as a whip since childhood—what business did she have among us illiterates?” her mother declared loudly enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, not that they weren’t already listening.

“Amma, why are you yelling so much? My ears will burst,” Megha said, scrunching her nose.

Her father walked in and gently placed his hand on her head. The gesture startled Megha; he wasn’t one to display affection openly.

“Now all that’s left is to send off to your sasuraal, my child. After that your mother and I will go bathe in the Ganga.”

"Sasuraal?” she asked, confused.

“Your in-laws came today. The proposal is fixed.”

“Fixed? What are you saying? and what in laws?"

Before she could protest further, her mother pulled her inside.

And there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, they began spinning the tale of her glittering destiny—a proposal from the younger son of the Thakur of Dharmapur, a wealthy and respected household, three villages over. No dowry. No demands. They only wanted the wedding to happen quickly.

“But Amma, what about my studies?” Megha’s voice trembled. “I want to study! I want to do so much! For you, For me..!”

“They said they’ll let you continue studying, child. Just wait till you see their mansion—”

“I don’t care about their mansion. Amma, it took two whole years after school for you and Bapu to save up for college fees. And now that I’ve finally been admitted, you’re telling me to get married? I don’t want this.”

“Child, do you know what kind of alliance this is? People in the neighborhood have turned bitter with envy. Cars lined up outside our house like we were royalty!”

“But Amma…”

“Think about your three little sisters. You’re the eldest. If we reject the Thakur's offer, none of you will get married. But if you agree, you’ll light the path for them too. And they promised—they’ll let you study.”

Every objection, every plea Megha made, was dismissed. And so came the day they sent off their eighteen-year-old daughter to be the bride of Thakur Vijay Singh, twenty-one-year-old son of Thakur Jagdish Singh of Dharmapur. Vijay was still pursuing his studies.

On that fateful night after wedding, the Thakur's haveli shimmered like a palace, adorned in colorful lights, ready to welcome its new bride!

As soon as the wedding car pulled in, the courtyard buzzed with excitement.

Megha’s new mother-in-law, Kamini Devi, introduced her to each family member. Apart from Thakur and Thakurain, the haveli was home to Vijay’s elder brother Ajay, his wife Aparna, their two mischievous sons, and their youngest daughter, Deepti.

Megha, her face veiled, bowed and touched feet after feet, accepting blessings with obedient grace.

From the fringes, a sharply dressed woman in an elegant sari watched the proceedings intently. She finally stepped into the circle and addressed Kamini.

“Will the bride not be introduced to the eldest son of the house?”

“Oh, of course, Ji-Ji. I was just about to…” Kamini trailed off, a bit flustered.

“Let it be, Kamini. I’ll do the honors.”

She walked up to Megha and said in a composed voice, “I’m your aunt-in-law(bua), Mala Singh.”

Megha bent down immediately to touch her feet.

Mala Ji then turned her gaze to a group of men standing at a distance and ordered to one of them, “Don’t glare at me like that. Come here and greet your new sister-in-law properly.”

A tall man with a beard sighed, set his drink down on a side table, and reluctantly walked over.

“This,” Mala Ji announced, “is Arjun Singh Ahlawat. The eldest son of this haveli. Your late grand-uncle’s only child. A highly reputed lawyer in Delhi.”

From beneath her veil, Megha could barely make out his features—just the outline of his tall frame and that beard.

She bent to touch his feet, but Arjun stepped back.

“It’s alright. That won’t be necessary,” he said coldly.

Megha stopped the mid way. And as soon as she stood up, he was gone!

"Your eldest brother in law is like.... He is just a bit Anti Social. Dont mind him" Bua ji explained very lovingly. Megha just nodded in response.

The rest of the rituals passed in laughter and festivity. But later that night, alone in her vast new bedroom, Megha sat wide-eyed, taking in the grandeur.

That’s when Vijay entered, her husband.

He said nothing, just dragged a chair to the table, pulled something from his pocket, and began spreading it across the surface.

Through her veil, Megha watched, horrified, as he sniffed what looked like powdered drugs. Her heart sank. Her husband was an addict—and he didn’t even care that she was watching.

Moments later, he approached her. She trembled.

Then came the blows.

Without a shred of awareness, Vijay began to hit her—mercilessly. The delicate girl couldn’t even scream. She was too stunned, too shattered.

When she finally collapsed on the bed, barely conscious, he forced himself upon her.

Tears streamed from her eyes like molten lava.

And when he was done, he left—just walked out of the room, leaving her limp and broken.

And

She lay there like stone all night.

At around four in the morning, an old maid found her, tended to her wounds, and dressed her.

But divine reckoning was already on its way to the grand haveli of Thakur Jagdish Singh.

By six or seven, the mansion echoed with blood-curdling cries. So piercing, it felt like they might tear the sky.

Outside, villagers gathered in panic.

“What happened?” one man breathlessly asked another.

“Little Thakur’s gone,” came the quiet reply. “Big accident. His body was torn apart.”

“Just yesterday he got married…Her young bride.... She was just a child.”

“And today she’s a widow!”

“No,” the man whispered bitterly, “She was widowed the moment her family decided to marry her off to an uneducated, drug-addled brute. Poor girl… what will become of her now?”