They say love makes you brave.
But sometimes, the lack of it does too.
I wasn't running away. Not really. I was just... done standing still.
For as long as I can remember, I've been chasing their approval like it was air and I was gasping for breath. My parents love me - I know they do - but in our home, love is filtered through rules, reputation, and whispered expectations over family dinners. In our world, dignity came before dreams. And I? I was always the daughter of that family - the girl who had to be perfect so their name would never taste like scandal on someone else's tongue.
So I traded in my passion for their perfection.
Paintbrushes for law books.
Silence for obedience.
Every decision I made was lined with their wishes. I never complained. I stopped painting, stopped daydreaming. I gave up the novels I used to escape into and wore ambition like armor. I wasn't unhappy - just... invisible in plain sight.
But it was never enough.
No matterhow many medals I brought home, no matter how many "yes" I whispered when my heart screamed "no", I remained a trophy they didn't quite know how to polish.
So when they found a suitable boy- Businessman, rich, family-oriented, and rajput family with great reputation- I agreed. Not because I believed in love, not because I saw a future with him, but because I saw a door. A way out of a home that felt less like comfort and more like a cage made of expectations.
Marriage wasn't supposed to be a new beginning for me.
It was supposed to be my escape route. My key to gain my freedom. To be free.
I told myself I wouldn't care. That I wouldn't get attached, wouldn't get distracted by stolen glances or soft touches. I promised myself I'd never fall for the man I married just to open the door of my freedom. Especially not with a man with eyes like quiet storms and a laugh that felt like warmth in a freezing room.
But fate is funny like that.
Now as I lie here listening to the rain whisper against the windowspane - something I used to love but haven't allowed myself to enjoy in years - I wonder if it's possible to find yourself in theruins of everything you once surrendered.
Maybe freedom isn't a rebellion. Maybe it's a quiet decision to choose yourself, again and again - even when you're scared.
And maybe, just maybe....
I'm ready to learn what that feels like.
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