Chaos disguise as SILENCE

Meher's POV

Warsaw was cold, but not colder than the nights she left behind.

Snowflakes drifted past her window like fallen prayers, but prayers had stopped working for her long ago. In this strange city, in a language she didn't speak, she found something she hadn't felt in months-silence without fear.

Seven months.

That's how long it had been since her body was claimed-without consent, without love, without choice.

That's how far along she was now-seven months into carrying the child of the man who broke her.

She didn't weep anymore. That part of her was done.

Instead, she wrapped her palms around her belly every morning and whispered,

"You are not him. You are mine. And I will never let this world treat you the way it treated me."

The apartment above the bookstore was small but safe. Ayaan had found it for her-the only soul from her past who hadn't tried to control her. He never asked what Veer did to her. He saw it in her silence, in the way she flinched when the kettle hissed, in the way her eyes never stayed on the mirror too long.

She had told Ayaan just the bare bones:

He married me without asking.

He touched me without love.

He lived with me like I was a burden wrapped in silk.

Every night, Veer would crawl into their bed not as a husband, but as a storm-leaving bruises where bangles once sat, and scars where dreams once lived.

She never screamed. Screaming meant you still believed someone would come save you.

She had stopped believing long ago.

The hardest part now wasn't the trauma.

It was the quiet.

The emptiness of safety, when your body no longer expects pain but your soul still trembles.

She watched the snow pile on the windowsill as her child kicked gently inside her. It reminded her that even after everything, life had dared to grow within her. Something innocent. Something untouched by sin.

She had never loved Veer.

Not even for a second.

But she would love this child enough to undo the legacy of everything he tried to make her believe she was.

---

Veer's POV

The palace was too big without her screams.

Veer sat alone in the bedroom he once ruled like a god. The walls still carried her scent-jasmine and something heartbreakingly soft. But now, there were no soft things left in his world. Only regrets that bled louder than his pride.

He married her because he could. Because power was something he never had to ask for.

He thought she would bend, eventually.

He didn't realize she had already broken.

Every night he forced himself into her arms, he told himself it was love-twisted, but love.

But the truth hit harder now.

It wasn't love. It was ownership.

And now she was gone.

No note. No suitcase. Just... silence.

She vanished like a ghost, and Veer-Veer, the one people bowed to-had been left behind like dust.

He couldn't forget the look in her eyes that last night.

Blank.

Like a girl who had buried her soul and was only waiting for her body to follow.

He drank. He screamed. He destroyed half the mansion searching for something-anything-that still belonged to her.

But even her bangles were gone.

And when he lay on the bed, his hands still remembered the weight of her waist.

Not from love.

But from how tightly he had gripped her to stop her from pulling away.

He hadn't just lost a woman.

He had lost the chance to ever be seen as human by her.

And now...

He didn't know where she was.

But he knew she would never come back.

Still, every morning, he woke up hoping to hear her anklets.

Every night, he reached for a woman who never reached back.

And every breath in between, he prayed to a god he never believed in:

"Let me see her once more... even if she never forgives me."

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