She ran without looking back, her breath uneven, her heart racing louder than the silence around her. Every step away from that house felt like defiance—like hope she wasn’t sure she deserved. For years, she had learned how to be careful. How to keep her head down. How to choose clothes that hid the marks she carried on her lower back—scars the world never saw, scars she never spoke about. Home was not a place of safety; it was a place she survived. Tonight, she chose to leave. When she finally stopped, far from familiar streets and memories, she let herself breathe. For the first time in a long while, the air didn’t feel heavy. She told herself that he wouldn’t find her. That freedom was possible. She was wrong. The voice behind her was calm. Too calm.

Her body froze before her mind could catch up. She knew that voice. It followed her into every quiet moment, every restless night. The journey back felt unreal, like a dream she couldn’t wake from. She didn’t scream. She didn’t fight. Some lessons had taught her silence instead. The basement door closed with a hollow finality. Darkness gathered as the lock turned. And in that silence, she understood one thing clearly— running away hadn’t ended her nightmare. It had only changed its shape.

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In basement

She heard footsteps coming down the stairs toward the basement. They were steady and familiar, not rushed, not hesitant. A moment later, the door opened and light entered the room, breaking the stillness that had surrounded her.

The slap got imprinted on her face

After that, they went upstairs

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At her room

Now, Anika was in her room alone

After sometime

After sometime

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Somewhere in Mumbai

In the living room

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