12

Chapter 11

She had thought she’d seen cruelty. She had thought the slap, the dungeon, and the endless bleeding hours were the worst this house could show her. She was wrong.

It happened on an ordinary afternoon. The air was heavy with the scent of simmering broth and burnt garlic. Ruhi was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, quietly cutting vegetables for the evening meal. The rhythm of her knife was the only steady sound she could control in a place that never felt safe.

Write a comment ...

Write a comment ...

Sonam Kandalgaonkar

Pro
I write heroines who are curvy, plus size, simple, or plain because beauty has never been about one perfect standard. Beauty is always in the eyes of the beholder. A woman does not need society’s approval to deserve love, obsession, respect, and a powerful story.