Silence

You're lucky," they told me. "Ravi is from a respected family. Rich, religious, cultured."

I smiled. I believed them. "They're good men," Ma said before the wedding.

"Just keep your head low, cook well, and please your husband. That’s our place."

I believed her.

On the third night, Ravi slapped me, "You forgot salt," he said. My cheek burned.

I didn’t cry. I apologized. Like I was supposed to.

Then came the rules. "Women in this house don’t speak unless spoken to," said Bauji, his father, while licking ghee off his fingers. "Or think," Ravi added, laughing.

The women around the room—mother-in-law, sisters-in-law—looked away. Not one eye met mine.

I tried to speak. Once. They silenced me with a look. When I protested, they silenced me. "This is normal. Don’t bring shame. Accept your fate."

Nights were worse. Even when I begged. Even when I bled.

“I’m your husband. It’s my right,” he growled, breath hot and heavy.

He didn’t wait for consent. He never did.

Until that one night. Ravi pinned me down while Bauji watched, drunk and grinning.

Yes, he watched. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

"Teach her submission," he whispered.

They locked me in the storeroom for crying too loud.

Three days. No light. No food. No voice.

“Too much drama for a new bride,” they said.

My soul shattered. I wasn’t a bride. I was meat on a plate, passed between beasts.

My body was screaming, my mind had gone silent.

Next night, I walked to the kitchen. Picked up the cutting knife. Ravi looked up. "Finally accepted your place?" he smirked. I smiled. Then I slit his throat.

Bauji screamed. He didn’t get far. Steel tastes like silence when it cuts deep.

When I turned, the women had gathered. No screams. No help. Just blank stares.

"You all knew," I said, blood dripping from my hands. "You watched me die every day."

One of them, just sixteen—whispered, "You should've stayed quiet. Like us."

Like broken glass. And I walked to the police station, knife still in hand. Blood still warm. "Why did you do it?" the inspector asked.

I looked him dead in the eye and said,

"Because I just chose to stop being on the receiving end."

• Luvv A Sanwal