Next morning

She awoke beside him, her body aching and bruised from the night's event, overwhelmed by a sense of pain and discomfort. She gazed at him, tears welling up in her eyes, reflecting the deep emotions she couldn't put into words. She felt disgust; she woke up; she could feel the soreness and pain throughout her body. She looked over at him, noticing that he was still asleep.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as the memories of the previous night surged through her mind. In that moment, she felt utterly degraded and exploited.

She slowly propped herself up, a wince escaping her lips as each movement sent ripples of discomfort through her weary body. Careful not to disturb him, she navigated her way across the dimly lit room and gently closed the bathroom door behind her with a soft click. The sound felt almost like a muffled echo in the silence.

Once inside, she turned on the water, and as the showerhead came to life, a steamy cascade enveloped her, the warm droplets cascading over her sore muscles like a gentle embrace. She gasped slightly as the water made contact with her skin, each splash igniting a delicate mixture of pain and relief.

Standing there in the warm spray, she let the water wash over her, closing her eyes and allowing herself to become lost in the sensation. With each passing moment, she tried to scrub away the haunting memories of the previous night, hoping that perhaps the warmth could also cleanse her mind. After a while, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself. A minute later, she was in front of the mirror in a pink cotton saree, braiding her hair,

He awoke to the captivating image of her before the mirror, her hair elegantly braided and adorned in a beautiful pink cotton saree.

He sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he watched her.

"You're up early," he remarked, his voice gravelly from sleep, thick with the remnants of dreams. She didn't respond, her silence speaking volumes. Adorned in delicate bangles that jingled softly with her every movement, she radiated a quiet elegance. Her necklace shimmered in the soft morning light, while the earrings dangled gracefully, catching the eye. The nuptial chain, a symbol of this cage-like marriage, rested against her collarbone, accentuating her neckline. Sprinkled across her hairline was a vibrant streak of vermilion, and a bindi, a small dot of red, nestled perfectly between her brows, adding a touch of tradition to her serene demeanour.

He watched as she went through all.

He couldn't help but admire how stunning she appeared in her traditional Indian attire. He stepped out of bed and approached her, standing just inches away. "You truly look lovely," he said softly.

Although he noticed she didn't seem entirely pleased with the compliment, it didn't bother him at all. He stepped closer to her, his body almost touching hers.

"Are you still upset about last night?" He asked, his voice low." You are still naked," she said with a short voice. He had completely forgotten that he was still naked. He looked down at himself and then back at her.

"Oh, right." He said, a small smirk on his face.

He grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around his waist. Once he was decent, he moved closer to her again.

"You didn't answer my question." He said, his eyes fixed on her. "Are you still upset about last night?"

"No, I'm just disgusted," she replied, a hint of determination creeping back into her voice. As the memories of that night flooded her mind, a flicker of confidence ignited within her, pushing aside the darkness of her feelings. His expression hardened at her words. He didn't like hearing her say that.

"Disgusted?" He repeated, his tone of voice changing.

He stepped closer to her, narrowing the distance between them.

"You're my wife now. You should be respectful.

"And you shouldn't show respect?" she asked as she took a step back. Only he couldn't believe she was talking back to him.

"I don't think you understand your place, doll," he said, narrowing his eyes. He took another step toward her, towering over her.

"I'm your husband. I'm in charge here. And you need to respect that."

"By forcing yourself on me", she said that with a wistful smile, and he couldn't stand to hear her talk about it like that.

"Forcing myself on you?" He said, his voice taking on a defensive tone. "That's not how it went. You were willing.

"At what point did I ever give the impression that I was willing?" she said, her voice dripping with disdain.. He paused for a moment, trying to recall the events of the previous night.

He recognised that his roughness had crossed a line, mistakenly believing she found it pleasurable. He was wrong in his assumption.

"You didn't protest." He finally said, his voice quieter now. "

"I just gave up, and I don't want you to touch me ever." His expression darkened at her words.

"You're my wife. I have rights over you." He said, his tone firmer.

He advanced toward her, his figure looming large as he closed the gap between them. The intensity in his eyes held a possessive fire as he spoke, "And you don't get to decide whether I touch you or not."

He unpin her blouse with a jerk     

 "If  wanting her was treason... then let him be guilty forever."

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