67. Assault

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The sun hung low in the sky when Ishika finally arrived at her old house, her heart heavy with unease.

She hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door. A part of her hoped that, for once, things might be different.

The door creaked open, revealing her chachu and chachi, their faces adorned with forced smiles.

But the warmth in their expressions vanished as soon as they saw Ishika standing alone.

"Where is Rudraksh?" her chachu demanded, his tone sharp and impatient.

"He’ll be late," she replied quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then why did you even come?" he sneered, his gaze filled with disdain.

"I didn’t want to..." Ishika began, swallowing the lump in her throat. "They sent me."

Her chachu let out a bitter laugh, his eyes narrowing. "Guess they’re disgusted by you too," he spat before turning away, leaving her standing there, trying to keep her composure.

She stepped inside, the familiar walls of her childhood home now feeling like a cage.

She made her way to her small, cramped room, the one place that still held fragments of memories she wished she could erase.

Sitting on the bed, she sighed, staring at the peeling paint on the walls, trying to distract herself from the ache in her chest.

Hours passed, and her hunger finally forced her out of her room. She walked cautiously toward the kitchen, her steps hesitant.

As she rummaged through the shelves for something to eat, she felt a presence behind her.

Turning, she found her chachi standing there, arms crossed and a scornful look on her face.

"So, are you taking the Raghuwanshis in a good way?" her chachi asked, her voice dripping with malice.

Ishika straightened, meeting her gaze. "Yes," she replied, trying to keep her tone steady.

Her chachi scoffed. "Of course, you would. A shameless girl like you, worming her way into their family. Do they know what a disgrace you are?"

"I’m not a disgrace," Ishika said, her voice trembling but firm.

Before she could say more, her chachu joined them, his expression as hateful as ever. "Talking back now, are we? Don’t forget, we raised you. You owe us everything."

"I owe you nothing," Ishika replied, the words escaping her lips before she could stop them.

Her chachi’s eyes blazed with fury. In a fit of rage, she grabbed the pot of boiling water from the stove and hurled it at Ishika.

The scalding liquid hit her skin, searing pain spreading across her arm and shoulder.

Ishika let out a blood-curdling scream, clutching her arm as tears streamed down her face.

As she tried to process what had just happened, her chachu grabbed her by the throat, his grip tight and unforgiving.

He pushed her backward, slamming her against the fiery stove. The flames licked at her back, and she cried out in agony, her body writhing in pain.

Her chachi didn’t stop there. She grabbed a rolling pin and began striking Ishika, the blows landing on her already fragile frame.

"You bitch," her chachi hissed, her voice venomous. "How dare you talk back to us?"

"You ungrateful wretch!" her chachu yelled, throwing her to the ground after what felt like an eternity.

Ishika’s back burned from the flames, the pain so intense it blurred her vision.

Somehow, through the haze of agony, she mustered the strength to crawl away.

Limping, she ran as fast as her battered body would allow, tears blinding her. She stumbled into her room, locking the door behind her.

Collapsing onto the floor, Ishika let out silent sobs, the pain in her back making it hard to breathe.

Her hands trembled as she touched the burned skin, flinching at the unbearable sting.

She felt broken, her body and spirit shattered by the cruelty of the people who were supposed to protect her.

The room felt suffocating, the silence pressing down on her like a weight.

Every breath she took was a reminder of the torment she had endured. Her mind raced with memories of their hateful words, their contempt, their violence.

Curling into herself, Ishika whispered into the empty room, "Why? Why me?"

The tears kept falling, her sobs echoing in the small space. She clutched her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth in an attempt to comfort herself.

But the pain was too much—physical, emotional, and everything in between.

She stared at the door, half-expecting someone to barge in and hurt her again.

But there was only silence, a silence that screamed louder than any words ever could.

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Divya stepped out of the car with hesitation, her heart pounding as she stood before her grandmother’s house.

She hadn’t expected to be summoned, and as much as she wanted to avoid this place, there was no escaping it. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door and knocked lightly.

To her surprise, her grandmother opened the door with a wide smile plastered on her face.

The woman’s demeanor was unusually warm, catching Divya off guard.

“Daksh told me he’ll be coming right after work,” her grandmother said, her tone unusually cheerful.

“Ji, malkin,” Divya replied, her voice betraying her confusion.

Her grandmother laughed lightly. “Oh, okay, no problem,” she said, waving it off as though it didn’t matter.

The older woman took her by the arm, leading her into the house. The sense of unease that had been simmering in Divya’s chest only grew stronger with every step.

Her grandmother’s unusual behavior didn’t sit well with her.

Instead of taking her to her old room, her grandmother stopped in front of a different one. Divya frowned, her confusion deepening.

“Be good,” her grandmother said, her voice soft yet chilling, as she patted Divya’s back and opened the door.

Before Divya could respond, her grandmother pushed her inside and shut the door firmly behind her.

Divya blinked, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

But then her eyes fell on the figure sitting on the couch, and her blood ran cold.

Aman.

He sat there, one leg crossed over the other, a horrifying smirk spread across his face.

“No…” Divya whispered, shaking her head as her legs gave way beneath her.

Aman stood slowly, his movements deliberate, his eyes predatory as they raked over her trembling form.

Divya’s survival instincts kicked in, and she turned, banging on the door with all her might.

“Malkin ji! Please, open the door! Please save me! Don’t do this to me! Please!” she cried, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face.

From the other side of the door, her grandmother’s cold voice replied, “Oh, don’t overreact, Divya. You’re lucky. Now cooperate with him.”

The words stabbed through her like a knife, breaking her heart into a million pieces.

The woman who had raised her, the woman she had once loved and respected, was now delivering her into the hands of a monster.

Divya’s sobs filled the room as she pounded on the door, desperation clawing at her.

But before she could make another move, Aman’s arms snaked around her waist, pulling her back violently.

“No! Let me go!” she screamed, struggling against his hold.

But Aman was too strong. He slapped her hard across the face, the force of it sending her reeling. Her head spun, but she fought to stay conscious.

“Stop fighting,” Aman growled, his hands rough as they gripped her.

Divya tried to push him away, but he was relentless. His nails dug into her skin, leaving angry, red welts.

He yanked at her clothes, tearing them as his hands roamed where they shouldn’t. She cried out in pain and horror, her voice hoarse from screaming.

“Don’t touch me! Please, stop!” she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But Aman didn’t listen. He shoved her against the wall, his lips grazing her skin in a way that made her stomach churn with disgust. His hands were on her waist and back, violating her, hurting her.

Divya’s mind raced, the pain and fear threatening to consume her. But then her eyes landed on a heavy glass vase sitting on a nearby table.

Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, she grabbed it and swung it with all her might, smashing it against Aman’s head.

The impact was immediate. Aman staggered back, his eyes wide with shock before he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Divya didn’t wait to see if he would wake up. She bolted for the bathroom, her feet dragging as pain radiated from her legs, which were now bruised by glass pieces and bleeding from his earlier assault.

She locked the door behind her and collapsed into a corner, her body trembling violently.

Her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving as she tried to process what had just happened.

Her back ached, her legs throbbed, and her skin burned where his nails had torn into her. She hugged her knees to her chest, her tears soaking her torn clothes.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.

The room spun around her, the adrenaline fading and leaving behind only exhaustion and pain.

Her body couldn’t take it anymore. Slowly, her vision blurred, and she fainted, her head resting against the cold bathroom tiles.

The night passed in eerie silence, broken only by the occasional sound of her shallow breaths.

She lay there, unconscious, her body battered and broken, her spirit barely holding on.

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I could feel my eyes filling up with tears...💔