Adhithya's footsteps faded away before the sun had fully risen. He had left early that morning, heading abroad for his higher studies — chasing the future that once belonged to both of them, but now felt like a dream slipping further away from her grasp. Anika watched the gate close behind him, her heart hollow and cold.
Now, she was alone. In a stranger's house. Locked inside a room that felt more like a cage than a sanctuary.
She sat on the stiff bed, the thin sheet barely enough to shield her from the chill in the air. The door was locked, but that lock was just a barrier against the outside—it couldn't keep out the unease curling tight in her chest.
Her eyes traced the blank walls, the faint scent of sandalwood drifting from the hallway. Everything felt strange, unfamiliar. And yet, this was where she was now — far from her village, far from the life she once knew, and surrounded by people who didn't know her story.
But the worst wasn't the loneliness.
It was the way her body betrayed her.
A wave of nausea rose suddenly, twisting her stomach painfully. She pressed her hand to her mouth, willing herself not to be sick, but the queasiness stayed, dull and relentless.
This feeling wasn't new. It had been creeping up for days, maybe longer. But she had been too wrapped in grief and shock to notice. Too consumed by the loss of Rajan — her husband, her world — and the death of his father soon after.
And then came the curses.
The whispered words behind closed doors in the village. The humiliations she endured silently. The hungry, greedy gazes of men who once smiled but now looked at her like she was prey. The shame piled on her like stones, heavy and suffocating.
She hadn't had the time — the space — to think of herself, not truly. Not since those dark days began.
But now, with Adhithya gone, with only the quiet around her, the truth clawed its way up to the surface.
Her period — it was late. Unusually late. Nearly two months gone.
Her trembling fingers moved slowly, almost hesitantly, to her belly. The roundness was barely there yet, but the warmth beneath her palm was unmistakable.
If what she feared was true… what could she do?
She was just sixteen.
Sixteen, a girl still, thrown into a world that demanded she grow up overnight.
How could she protect this child? How could she save a life when she barely felt safe herself?
Her mind raced — swirling with fear, confusion, and hopelessness.
If Vikram knew… what would he think?
Would he look at her as a used and discarded girl, whose only worth was in the past, now wasted and broken? Would he think her shameless — cheap, easy, something to be taken without care or respect? Would he see her as nothing more than a burden?
The thought made her stomach twist again.
Worse still, what if he took advantage of her vulnerability? The thought shivered through her like ice.
Would anyone truly protect her?
Or was she alone in this, a fragile girl caught between grief and an uncertain future?
Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back fiercely. She couldn't let the fear swallow her whole.
She was not that girl.
She had survived Rajan's death.
She had buried his father with her own hands.
She had faced the village's cruel eyes and hateful whispers.
She could face this too.
But the question remained: how?
How could she carry this secret? How could she live with the weight of this child growing inside her, in a world that would judge and condemn?
Her thoughts spun out in a spiral of what-ifs.
What if she told Adhithya? But he was gone now. He had his own life to build, a life she could no longer be part of.
What if she told Vikram? Could she trust him? Could anyone be kind enough, understanding enough, to help her?
Or would she be forced to hide this truth forever — forced to bear the burden alone?
The room felt colder.
Her breath came in shallow gasps as her trembling hands found her face, wiping away the tears she had finally allowed herself to feel.
She was just a girl.
Just sixteen.
And yet, inside her, a new life may be growing — fragile, vulnerable, but undeniably real.
Anika closed her eyes, summoning every ounce of courage she could find.
She didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
But she knew she had to fight.
For herself.
For this child.
For a future she wasn't sure she deserved — but desperately needed.
In the silence of the locked room, with only her own heartbeat for company, Anika whispered a shaky vow.
"I will protect you. No matter what."