We arrived at my father's home swiftly. As the car halted, my husband hurriedly left, and I began adjusting my attire. Saad didn't spare a glance backwards; he simply strode into the house. His desires were selfish, reducing me to an object. It was a degradation worse than that of a prostitute; they, at least, received compensation for their services. As his wife, I was only met with disrespect from the onset.

The chauffeur courteously opened the door for me. I thanked him and stepped into my father's grand estate. Upon seeing me, my father greeted, "How are you?" I nodded in response but avoided meeting his eyes. His gaze held a power that could shatter me, and I couldn't afford to break down. While I was my father's daughter, a resilient woman, as Saad's wife, I was a mere shell, devoid of any identity beyond being neglected by him.

I sensed my father's remorse. He detested the practice of having multiple wives, a consequence of his own father's poor decisions that had caused him to suffer in his childhood. And now, here I was, enduring the repercussions of similar choices. The cycle of suffering persisted through generations.

Saad lounged comfortably on the sofa, legs carelessly propped up, attempting to assert dominance. "Seher, go inside," my father directed. I obeyed, but Saad's voice halted me.

"Seher, come sit here," he ordered, indicating the space beside him. Conflicted between my father's and Saad's instructions, I was rescued by my mother, "Seher, come upstairs." I didn't turn back, uninterested in being part of their petty power plays.

I hastened upstairs, feeling a penetrating stare at my back. Glancing one last time, I caught him glaring at me. I knew trouble awaited, but my course was set. I retreated to my mother's room. "Seher, my darling, how are you?" she asked cheerfully.

I couldn't muster a smile or a response. She understood my silence from my eyes alone.

"It's alright, dear, have faith in Allah," she comforted me. Her words drew a bitter laugh from me. My mother held firm beliefs, but life had turned me into a sceptic.

"I've lost faith in everyone," I replied, a tear sliding down my cheek. She wiped it away and embraced me.

"These men think they'll reach heaven, but what about us women?" I sobbed, resenting my powerlessness. "They have their lust and anger, and yet, they're the ones who wrong us. How unjust it is!"

"Seher, calm down, my darling."

My mother's soothing voice enveloped the room, gradually easing my distress. "Mother, I wish to rest my head in your lap. Can I sleep here?"

"Saad won't approve," she warned softly.

As Saad entered the room, his eyes locked onto me, resting on my mother's lap. His expression darkened, an unspoken disapproval evident in his piercing gaze. "Seher, come with me," he commanded with a steely tone.

My father intervened, "Saad, let her stay here for a month. She needs this."

An immediate refusal formed on Saad's lips, his brows furrowed in dissent. However, before he could protest, I softly said, "Yes, I'll stay, Saad."

His anger simmered beneath a thin facade of a smile, sending a chill down my spine. In that moment, I sensed an unsettling truth—Saad was not just domineering; he was a sadist, finding pleasure in asserting control and causing discomfort.

The air grew tense as my decision hung in the balance, caught between my father's request and Saad's vehement opposition. My heart raced as I felt Saad's overpowering presence suffocate my spirit.

My father, seeing Saad's reaction, attempted to diffuse the tension. "Saad, let her have this time. She needs it. Trust me."

Saad's smile widened but didn't reach his eyes. "As you wish," he replied, his voice masking an underlying threat.

The month spent in solace had been a welcomed respite from the suffocating atmosphere at Saad's house. Amidst the everyday chaos of the market, a soldier caught my attention. His presence was striking, tall, and handsome, radiating an undeniable warmth that drew me in.

Watching him assist an elderly woman, his smile was genuine and comforting, I couldn't help but notice the genuine kindness in his actions. Dimples formed in his cheeks as he conversed with her, his honey-coloured eyes carrying a depth of compassion.

His gesture of reverence, touching the woman's feet, spoke volumes about his character. Caught in observing this unexpected display of respect, I found myself unintentionally staring until our gazes met. He approached, towering in height, offering his help with a genuine concern.

"Do you need any help, ma'am?" he asked, his demeanour exuding respect and kindness that touched my heart.

Curiosity got the better of me. "Why did you help them?" I questioned, genuinely intrigued.

"Those aunts? Because they are mothers. They deserve the world," he answered, a sincerity lacing his words that resonated within me.

"What's your name?" I inquired softly.

"Captain Sahil Singh," he replied with a sense of honour.

Instinctively, I saluted him, a spontaneous show of respect. He reciprocated before departing. As he disappeared into the distance, I couldn't help but call out, "I hope we meet again."

___

Amidst the tranquility of my father's home, I found solace in small routines, in conversations with my mother, and in stolen moments of quiet reflection. Each passing day seemed like a step towards reclaiming a sense of self that had been obscured in the tumultuous life with Saad.

As the month drew to a close, my thoughts often drifted to the chance encounter with Captain Sahil Singh. A part of me hoped for another serendipitous meeting, while the practical side remained cautious of the complexities such an interaction might entail.

But fate, as unpredictable as ever, seemed to have its own plans.

One bustling afternoon, while browsing through the local market for household essentials, I noticed a familiar figure in uniform. It took a moment to register that it was indeed Captain Sahil Singh, radiating the same warmth and compassion that had captivated me earlier.

Without hesitation, I approached him, mustering the courage to strike up a conversation. "Captain Singh!" I called out, my voice carrying a mix of surprise and delight.

He turned, a smile gracing his face as he recognized me. "We meet again," he remarked, his eyes reflecting genuine pleasure at the unexpected reunion.

Our conversation flowed effortlessly, resonating with a sense of camaraderie that felt both natural and comforting. In the midst of the chaotic marketplace, his presence was an anchor, a source of reassurance in the whirlwind of emotions I had been experiencing.

As Sahil and I met again at the bustling market, his face lit up with genuine delight upon seeing me. His features were a perfect blend of strength and kindness—those honey-coloured eyes held an ocean of warmth, and his infectious laughter made the world seem lighter.

We chatted innocently, discussing the quirks of the market and sharing lighthearted stories. His humor was endearing, and I found myself giggling at his jokes, feeling an unexpected connection.

When Sahil noticed my wedding ring and playfully pointed it out, I was momentarily taken aback. "What about your husband?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I felt a slight shock making him chuckle, "Ma'am, your diamond ring is clearly visible."

"He is good".

"Have you ever watched the sunset from the hilltop?"

His easy laugh and swift change of subject to something as simple as watching the sunset from the hilltop put me at ease again.

As we walked towards the hill, he noticed my abayah hindering my steps. Without a second thought, he offered me his coat to tie around it, allowing me to move freely. "Here, this might help," he said with a smile, his voice reassuring.

His consideration and care were heartwarming, making me feel comfortable in his presence.

While walking uphill, his easy conversation and reassurances about riding the horses made the whole experience less daunting. "Have you ridden a horse before?" he asked.

I shook my head nervously. "Well, it's fine, these horses know the route, they are trained," he reassured, his tone calm and reassuring.

When the opportunity to ride horses arose, despite my initial hesitation, his calm words reassured me, and before I knew it, I was on the horse, feeling surprisingly at ease.

The ride was filled with the beauty of nature—the rivers, the sky, and the serenity of the hilltop. But what captivated me most was seeing Sahil from behind, his confident yet caring demeanor as he guided our journey.

Reaching the hilltop and sitting beside each other, watching the sunset through the mountains, his eyes fixed on the horizon, I couldn't help but steal glances at him. In that tranquil moment, feeling the breeze and watching the sunset, I found myself smiling, grateful for this unexpectedly lovely day.

As the day waned and we parted ways, there lingered a mutual understanding, a silent agreement that our paths would cross again. It wasn't just a fleeting encounter anymore; it felt like the universe conspiring to weave our lives together in some unforeseen yet meaningful way.