I started thinking…
What if one day he kills me?
The thought hadn’t even settled properly when his hand closed around mine.
Firm. Unyielding.
Karl didn’t shout. He didn’t explain. He simply dragged me toward the black BMW waiting outside, its engine already running, doors opened by men who didn’t dare look at me.
“We’re going home,” he said.
Not our house.
Not the mansion.
Home.
The word felt foreign. Empty.
As the car door shut behind me, the city lights blurred past the window—and my mind slipped backward, helplessly, to the day everything was taken from me.
Flashback — Two Weeks Ago
7th February. My Birthday.
I still remember the smell of coffee.
We were at a small café, warm lights hanging from the ceiling, laughter everywhere. Divyanka sat beside me, her arm hooked with mine. Arshia, Prachi, and Khushi surrounded the table, teasing me, cheering, making me feel… normal.
Happy.
A small chocolate cake sat in front of me, candles flickering.
“Close your eyes,” they said together.
“Make a wish!”
I smiled and did as they asked.
Eyes closed. Hands folded.
I wished for something simple.
Freedom.
A future I could choose.
A life that belonged to me.
“Now open them!”
I opened my eyes.
And my world ended.
A man stood in front of me.
Tall. Broad. Dressed in black like the shadows themselves had learned how to walk. His face was calm—too calm. Cold eyes scanned the room like he already owned it.
Beside him stood my stepfather.
Smiling.
That strange, greasy smile that never meant anything good.
In his hand—
A cheque.
My heart dropped.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice suddenly small.
No one answered me.
My stepfather placed a hand on my shoulder, gripping just a little too tightly. “Kavira” he said sweetly, “meet ka Casanova .”
The man’s gaze shifted to me then.
And locked.
I felt it—
That invisible chain snapping shut around my throat.
“This,” my stepfather continued, holding up the cheque proudly, “is your birthday gift.”
I laughed once. Nervously. “Stop joking.”
But no one laughed back.
Karl stepped closer. His presence swallowed the space around me.
“She’s perfect,” he said calmly.
Perfect.
Like I was a thing.
“k-karl?” I whispered. “Why is he here?”
My stepfather leaned down, his breath hot against my ear.
“You’re getting married today.”
The café noise faded. My friends’ faces blurred. Divyanka stood up, confused, angry—but karl’s men appeared like ghosts, blocking every path.
“I didn’t agree to this,” I said, shaking. “I don’t even know him!”
Karl finally spoke directly to me. His voice was low, controlled, terrifyingly steady.
“You don’t need to know me,” he said.
“You just need to be mine.”
The cheque changed hands.
And just like that—
On my birthday—
I was sold.
Back in the present, the BMW sped through the night.
Karl sat beside me, silent, his hand still wrapped around mine like a cuff.
Two weeks married.
A lifetime trapped.
I stared straight ahead, fear heavy in my chest.
And one question echoed in my mind louder than gunshots—
Did he save me that night…
or was I just walking deeper into my own grave?
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