Red is luck, red is romance, red is heart and home.

But,

Red is also Blood.

And all I could see was red.

My every fantasy, every dream of a happily married life, a loving husband, and a sweet family were brutally murdered and the imaginary blood of my assassinated dreams was spluttered around me. 

Unknowingly, I lost balance and fell on the cold marble floor impacting a rash burn on my knees but it was nothing in front of the blaze inside my bleeding heart.

"This marriage was forced upon me, otherwise I would have never married an ugly girl like you. I won't touch you ever. Your body is so disgusting along with your face. I would never fu*k your awful vagi*a. I would..."

Lakshay's harsh words were echoing in my ears, playing with my psyche yet not a single drop of tear left my eyes. Maybe they also felt too insulted to besiege around my eyes.

I looked at his sleeping form and the feeling of resentment surfaced in my heart.

I was unclothed in front of my drunk sleeping husband looking over his closed eyes.

All I ever wanted from my husband was respect and love but Lakshay showed me the reality of thick girls like me.

Thick girls are meant to be taunted, insulted, hated and whatnot.

Society humiliates them but even their own bodies too with diseases like PCOS, PCOD, thyroid, diabetes and whatnot.

I wasn't able to sleep. All the tiredness, the soreness was changed into anxiety and humiliation.

If my own husband couldn't respect me what could I expect from others? If my own husband hates me why should I expect others to even like me?

That night, along with my parents' hard-earned money, a part of me also died along with the small hope of a happy marriage.

The Shambhavi who had hopes, dreams, and expectations died and all that was left was an insulted and tarnished soul who although had a temporary thick flesh on it but from within, it was hollow. As hollow as her will to live.

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I didn't sleep last night. I was busy unpacking my luggage. Anything that would take away my attention from the stark reality. I properly arranged everything like an OCD-induced maniac.

The dawn cracked through its flushed hues and I was still kneeling on the floor, arranging my clothes. I didn't dare to be near that person.

I got up from the floor and with a swift motion, I pulled the curtain aside, allowing the sunlight to flood into the room like a cascade of golden warmth. As the first rays of dawn bathed my face, I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stir within my weary heart. Perhaps this was my fate and rather than crying and mulling over it, I should accept it as it is.

"Kanha, I do not know why you did what you did but I am not going to break. I will not give my parents more anxiety now. They already did a lot. I cannot trouble them any more," I whispered to my reflection as I was inside the washroom. Dark circles surrounded my once cheerful orbs, tiredness and exhaustion were starkly evident on my once radiating face and I looked like a broken woman.

Broken by her own husband on her wedding night. Not by any physical abuse or force but just some venom-inked words.

I turned the shower on, the warmth of the water cascading over my tired muscles like a soothing embrace. Emerging from the shower, after drying myself with a thick towel, I wrapped myself in the lavish folds of a maroon-coloured saree, which of course was bought by my papa, its rich hues accentuating my grace and poise and also my guilt for being such a burden on them.

As I sat before the mirror, my reflection staring back at me with a mixture of determination and resignation, I applied vermilion in my partition. A bitter chuckle escaped my lips, tinged with a hint of irony. Here I was, adhering to the age-old tradition of marking myself as a married woman, while my husband remained indifferent to my existence, his harsh words and dismissive attitude a constant reminder of my insignificance in his eyes. The contrast between the sacred symbolism of the vermilion and the reality of my marriage seemed almost laughable, a cruel joke played by fate.

After applying a small maroon bindi in between my brows, I swabbed my lips red. The red bangles appeared as if they were laughing at my state but I ignored their cheerful giggle and just put them in my heena-clad hands, completing my transformation as a newlywed. I looked perfect.

A perfect one-day-old bride.

I tried to smile but only I knew what was going through me. A pain so tormenting was choking me from within and finally a drop of my precious tear cascaded down.

"Ma....," my lips wobbled when I looked at myself in the mirror.

My new reality.

The painful reality of my broken dreams and expectations.

The painful reality of a marriage which would never give me happiness.

I was in my own melancholy that I didn't notice when he woke up and was staring at me as if I was intruding on his privacy. I didn't feel the need to wish him or anything; in fact, I wanted to roll my eyes at him and show him my middle finger but I controlled my urge to do any of such stunts as he was my lawfully wedded husband and a husband is next to God himself, why you ask?

Well!

Bhala hai bura hai, Jaisa bhi hai, mera pati mera devta hai!

(Good or bad, whatever it is, my husband is my god!)

"Good morning," he fake smiled at me and I had no energy left to entertain his fake pleasantries and his bogus smiles anymore. His reality was out. He finally had almost 80% of my father's NetWorth with him in the form of cash, a BMW, gold chain and rings and of course, a plot in my native village too, he didn't need to put up with his facade now. I ignored him and wiped off the moisture on my face and was going to exit the bedroom when his question stopped me.

"Did something happen between us last night? Actually, my cousins and friends forced me to drink...sorry..." My smug look finally put a stop to his fake guilt.

"No need to fake it, dear husband. You have already made it. You have already got what you wanted from this marriage. Cash, gold, BMW and whatnot. No need to fake anymore," I kept my voice extremely sweet but my words were as toxic as him and his family.

"Don't you dare talk to me like this!" I didn't know when and how he pounced on me, his hands almost choking my neck. "Uh uh.....leave me," I coughed hard and tried my best to get out of his monstrous hold on my neck but he didn't loosen his grip.

"So what if I married you for dowry? At least I married you otherwise who would want a big, black pile of coal as his wife? Be thankful that I married you otherwise who would have even considered talking to a woman like you!" Lakshay's words cut through the air like shards of glass, each syllable dripping with venom as he bitterly insulted me, tearing at my self-esteem with cruel precision.

He left my neck and I slumped down the floor.

He was right. I was just a big, black pile of coal.

Like the coal, I felt heavy with the weight of my broken dreams, the weight of guilt of marrying this scoundrel, the weight of a dark abyss that I was now an integral part of.

∘◦❁◦∘

Despite the heaviness weighing upon my heart from my husband's harsh words, I summoned a facade of cheerfulness, donning a smile that felt as brittle as chinaware. Yes, that's what we girls are always taught to do.

To smile even when you're breaking from within.

To adjust even when you're mentally harassed by your own husband.

To love and care for that family even though they don't bat an eye for if you exist or not.

On the auspicious occasion of my pehli rasoi in my new household, I prepared Kheer, pouring my hopes and aspirations into each stirring motion of the pot. Yet, even as the sweet aroma filled the air, its comforting scent couldn't mask the bitter reality of my life.

Being doomed and drowned in this new life, I couldn't help but chuckle sinisterly at my fate. It was as if my past life sins were punishing me in the form of Karma. Not punishing but slapping me across my cheeks, to welcome my new life with a beautiful smile and a spoonful of Kheer. Note the sarcasm.

As I presented the steaming bowl of Kheer to my new family, their faces remained clouded with disapproval.

"Bahu, Lakshay ko kya kaha hai tumne? Subah se dekh rahe hain muhn fulaye Baitha hai?" my mother-in-law asked me the moment I came with the tray of Kheer.

(Daughter-in-law, what did you say to Lakshay? We have been watching him sit with his long face since morning?)

And what about the marks he left on my neck after choking me? Won't you ask me for that, dear mother-in-law? I wished I could've spoken it out loud but I kept mum and heard whatever the other relatives had to throw at me. 

Instead of gifts and presents for the sweet Kheer as well as my Muhn Dikhai, I got their accusing and harsh words. Words that stung like thorns, accusing me of making my husband grumpy on our very first day as husband and wife. The sweetness of the Kheer was unable to dissolve the bitterness of their words. I was tightlipped, lowering my head as if accepting my defeat of not being a good wife.

I couldn't help but feel the weight of loneliness pressing down upon me, a stark reminder of the uphill battle I faced in earning acceptance and respect within my new home.

I needed to accept everything. My parents had paid a hefty price for this. I couldn't return to them. They'd never accept me. After all,

Bhala hai bura hai, Jaisa bhi hai, mera pati mera devta hai!

Please add these lines too in the beautiful lyrics, 

Mere saas sasur bhi mere Devta hain!

(My in-laws are also my gods!)

"Come inside," after the drama that happened at the dining table, my husband welcomed me warmly inside our bedroom and then...

Slap!

2nd Slap!

Well, he hadn't gifted me anything for the scrumptious Kheer I made today, now this was his way of giving me my first gift.

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Hey guys!

I am really sorry for updating after so long. Please do vote and share your opinion in comments if you like this story! 

Tada!