He saw me on the metro. Just once. That was all it took. I didn’t even notice him, but he remembered everything. Two weeks later, I woke up in a bridal saree, sindoor in my hair, and a mangalsutra resting against my throat. No pheras. No vows. No love. Just a forced marriage… and a locked door that refused to open. “You’re mine now,” he whispered against my ear. “Even if you hate me for it.” I tried to escape. More than once. But he always found me. And every time I walked away, something inside me shattered louder than the door I slammed behind me. I kept telling myself I didn’t love him. I convinced myself I hated him. So why did leaving him hurt more than staying with the man who stole my freedom? Why did my heart ache for the very person I should have feared the most? In a world where obsession disguises itself as love, she must decide whether to keep fighting for freedom… or surrender to the man who refuses to let her go.
