The dimly lit room was heavy with silence, broken only by the harsh echo of accusation.

"You characterless, bloody whore," he spat, his voice thick with rage and contempt. "I didn't even touch you, then whose child is this? Kahan mu kaala karwaya hai jaakr?" His words were venomous, each syllable laced with humiliation and anger.

In the corner, a man stood, his face twisted in fury, as if the weight of shame and blame bore down on his very soul.

Before him, his young wife-barely more than a child herself, fragile and trembling-sat motionless. Her eyes were vacant, staring at nothing, as if the world around her had ceased to exist.

Her cheeks were bruised, purple and swollen, marks of the relentless blows that had battered her delicate frame.

The air was thick with despair as the husband's fists continued their merciless assault, pounding her body as though it were some inanimate object, a vessel to vent his fury upon.

She neither cried out nor sobbed. Her chest heaved slightly, her breaths shallow and uneven, as if each inhalation were a battle in itself. The harsh rhythm of slaps had robbed her of voice, of hope, of resistance.

"Tumne Ranveer Chaudhry ki izzat kharab ki hai. Hamare poore khandan par sharm ki chhavi ban gayi ho tum".

The words echoed through the cold, dimly lit room, heavy with sorrow and anger.

The man stood tall, his expression a mix of grief and fury, as if the weight of betrayal had crushed him from within.

He held the young girl's hand firmly, yet without unnecessary cruelty, as though trying to control his own trembling emotions.

Her body was fragile, trembling under the immense pressure of the moment. Her eyes, wide with fear, stared blankly ahead, lost in shock.

With great force, he moved her from the shadowy confines of the room into the faint light of the corridor, where silence seemed almost unbearable.

Her hair was disheveled, and her face pale, carrying the silent testimony of pain and helplessness.

Her breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle to continue.

Though her body bore marks of struggle, there was no utterance of protest-only quiet endurance.

Every step, every movement seemed weighed down by despair, as though the world itself was holding its breath.

"Aag lagadi hamari izzat ko tune, Ab kya mu dikhayenge hum sabko, Bol". With that he kiched her on her stomach as if trying to kill the baby which for him is an illegitimate.

And yet, amid this overwhelming darkness, a small miracle persisted.

Inside her womb, untouched by the suffering around her, a tiny life remained safely cocooned.

Protected by unseen layers of grace, that innocent soul was shielded from the cruelty of the world.

The violence hadn't left any visible scars at first, but

Now, every night, it came back-like an invisible force that continued to haunt her.

She felt as if someone was beating her all over again,

as though her soul itself was being torn out, piece by piece.

Her body, drenched in sweat, lay trembling in the cold, silent room.

The air around her seemed to freeze, adding weight to her suffering.

she shivered uncontrollably,

her delicate frame shaking as if struggling to hold itself together.

With muffled cries, barely audible, she was whispering her pain into the emptiness,

"Main nahi sah pa rahi..."

Her hands gripped the mattress tightly, as if trying to anchor herself to something solid,

hoping that physical strength could ease the unbearable ache inside.

But no matter how hard she held on,

the pain seemed to grow, spreading deep into her chest,

throbbing with every heartbeat.

In that stillness, the room held a silent witness to her suffering,

as if time itself had paused,

watching a small, twenty six year old fragile girl fight an invisible, merciless battle

that no one else could see.

But then a six-year-old innocent child came forward, he put his hand on her shoulder and then with his soft palms, he rubbed her tear striken face .

The child's touch was gentle, as if trying to comfort without fully understanding the gravity of the moment.

Then, one after another, the child kissed both of her cheeks,

small, tender gestures of affection and innocence.

It was a scene suspended in time, fragile and heart-wrenching.

At just 19 years of age, Saisha had become a mother-

a role that carried the weight of both joy and unimaginable pain.

She had given life to her child, yet, tragically, at the same time, she had lost herself , leaving behind only memories.

Her smile, once bright, had faded into silence.

Her dreams, still young, had been left incomplete.

In that quiet moment, the child's gentle touch stood as the only connection

between what was lost and what remained-a silent promise to remember.

Suddenly, Saisha's eyes flew open,

wide and unseeing, as if waking from a nightmare she couldn't escape.

Without a second thought, she pulled her son, Shivansh, close-

holding him tightly to her chest, as if he were the only anchor keeping her soul from drifting away.

She cradled him like a mother cherishes her life itself,

pressing him against her with desperate tenderness.

"Maa, aap har raat kyun dar jaati hai?"

Her little boy's voice was soft but filled with innocent determination.

His eyes, full of love and unshaken trust, looked up at her.

"Aapka strong Shivansh hai na, Main kisi monster ko apke paas nahi aane dunga."

"I am your strong man."

Saisha's tears mixed with his gentle touch,

her heart both breaking and healing in that singular embrace.

For in Shivansh's words lay a powerful truth-a child's pure, unwavering hope.

Even in the midst of fear and despair,

he was her light, her courage, her reason to keep holding on.

The world around them remained silent,

but in that small moment, love was louder than any darkness.Whenever Saisha would hold him tightly to her chest, tears streaming down her face,

he too would feel a strange, unfamiliar fear rising within him seeing her state.

Yet, over time, because Saisha had raised him with immense care and quiet strength,

he had grown braver than his age should allow.

At just six years old, Shivansh had become wise beyond his years,

carrying a maturity that seemed far older than his small frame.

He understood, in a way no child should have to,

that his mother's pain was not just hers alone-but something he needed to bear too.

"Maa, main hamesha aapke saath hoon."

Her sobs were a silent plea,

but his quiet reassurance was like a shield against the world's cruelty. He is not like her , coward but strong .

"Yes, you're a strong man, lekin aapki maa bahot kamzor hai."

Saisha's voice was small but firm, filled with the innocent determination of a mother who wanted to protect his entire world.

"Thak jaati hai, to monster darane lagta hai."

Saisha' voice trembled slightly , her exhaustion and fear making her seem even more fragile.

Her voice, though barely audible, was filled with fierce protectiveness.

She whispered into the air, as if confronting an unseen threat.

"Abhi main bhi is gandi shakal wale bhalu ko yahi keh rahi thi... ki khabar daar, mujhe haath lagaya to warna mera Shivansh tumhe aisi gudgudi karega ki tum wapas jungle bhaag jaoge."

Her words were half in jest, half in desperate defiance-a shield of courage she tried to build around herself.

Shivansh looked up at her with trust-filled eyes, unaware of the full weight of her struggle,

but ready to be her strength, her protector in a world that seemed endlessly cruel.

In that quiet moment, the bond between mother and child was unshakable.

It was not blood alone that tied them, but love, resilience, and a shared, silent promise

that no darkness, no fear, could ever come between them.Wiping her own tears, Saisha gently comforted her son, cradling him close.

She kissed his soft cheeks, pouring all her motherly love and warmth into that small, tender moment.

Every gesture was an expression of her care, a shield against the harshness of the world around them.

"Maa, ye khatarnaak gudgudi karke main hamesha aapko gande logon se bachaunga."

Shivansh's voice was small but resolute, full of innocent determination.

"Ab uthe naa, aapko pata hai na, aaj P.T.M hai."

Saisha smiled through her exhaustion, feeling the weight of her fears ease, even if just for a moment.

In his words, she heard not just protection, but pure, unwavering love-a child's promise to stand by her no matter what.

For those brief seconds, the room held only warmth, laughter, and the unspoken bond between mother and son-a bond that no darkness could ever touch.

The quaint, wooden house stood nestled, its simplicity a testament to the lives it sheltered. Two rooms defined its humble layout. In one, Saisha lived with her young son Shivansh, their bond and laughter filling the space. The other room belonged to Haleema Amma, the village's revered dai maa, who tended to her hakeem khana with gentle care.

With no one else around, Saisha and Shivansh found solace in this small abode ,staying as a paying guest of haleema amma. The house, though modest, became a sanctuary, a place where love and care wove a protective cocoon around them.

Saisha is not a bad woman or a characterless, she just made one mistake, for which may be God has forgive her that's why he had sent her to the care of haleema bi, But the people don't forgive easily.

The morning light filtered softly through the small windows of their home as the three of them sat together for breakfast. There was an air of quiet resignation in the room, but Saisha moved with purpose. She quickly freshened up, her eyes focused and determined, and without wasting a moment, she prepared Shivansh for school. The little boy, innocent and unaware of the harsh judgments the world held for his mother, happily followed her every instruction.

Saisha had managed to secure Shivansh's admission into a very good school - something she considered her greatest achievement so far. For herself, she had taken up a job as a marketing manager in a garment factory. The work was demanding, but she carried it with quiet determination.

The owner of the factory, a woman of strength and resilience, was also a single parent. Perhaps that was why Saisha found it easier to settle there; she was understood without having to explain her struggles. In that workplace, she discovered not only employment but also a space where her silence was respected and her efforts valued.

"Mera bacha, meri jaan, kinna sohna lag raha hai... idhar aa , teri nazar utar du, kahin kisi ki nazar na lag jaye," Haleema Bi said with immense love in her voice. She gently called Shivansh close and carefully removed the imagined evil eye from his forehead, her hands trembling slightly but full of affection.

Haleema Bi had once been a mother to a son named Arshad, who had passed away many years ago. But somehow, when she looked at Shivansh's innocent face, it was as if God had gifted her another child - a second chance to nurture, love, and protect. It had been six years since Shivansh had come into their lives, and in that time, he had filled the empty space in her heart that Arshad had once occupied.

Saisha, Shivansh, and Haleema Bi all sat together on the floor, having their breakfast. Shivansh always liked milk and oats for his meal, a simple choice that somehow always reminded Saisha of a man - a bastard whom she desperately wanted to forget.

"Amma, today after PTM, I will take Shivansh to the dentist," Saisha said with concern. "He eats so many sweets that his teeth have started developing cavities. we'll get late on our way back, so don't wait for us and get worried."

"At this age, all children are like this, Saisha. Don't be so worried," Haleema Bi said with a gentle smile.

"And on your way back, make sure to stop by that sweet shop in the corner and get some rasgullas. I've been craving them so much." Amma said lickings her lips like a small kid.

Saisha shook her head at her .

" Dono nani or nawasa ek jaise h " she murmured only for herself to hear.

"Okay, leti aaungi." She replied and held Shivansh hand in one hand and her bag on another ,as they bid bye to haleema bi.

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So how's the first chapter?

Complete vote target for next chapter.