Mahi’s POV
When I married into my husband’s family, I thought I was stepping into a new chapter, one that would be filled with love, respect, and partnership. But it didn’t take long for the dream to shatter. The abuse started gradually—snide remarks from my mother-in-law, blaming me for every small thing that went wrong. At first, I brushed it off, thinking it was just the adjustment period. I tried harder, kept quiet, and followed their rules, hoping things would improve. But soon, it became clear this was no small adjustment. It was a trap.
My husband changed overnight. Behind closed doors, he was ruthless, quick to anger over minor issues, and never hesitated to hit me if I dared to speak up. I found myself shrinking, doing everything I could to avoid provoking him. The few times I thought of going to my parents for help, I remembered the weight of our caste, our “standing” in the community. I knew they’d tell me to adjust, to think of the family’s reputation, to stay quiet.
I thought maybe I could endure it—that I could survive by being careful and keeping my head down. But then, my sister-in-law joined in. She made sure I knew that I didn’t belong, that I would never meet their standards. She took every opportunity to degrade me, sneering, reminding me that I was “lucky” to be in their family. Every day felt like I was losing a part of myself.
It felt like drowning, knowing I had no one to turn to and no way out. But then there was Mithali, my twin sister. She was my anchor, the one person who could truly see me, even in the depths of this nightmare. She noticed my silence, the forced smile I wore whenever we spoke. She knew me well enough to recognize my fear.
One night, I reached out to her, barely able to get the words out between sobs. I told her everything, the ugly truths that even my own parents couldn’t bear to acknowledge. Mithali listened without judgment, her voice steady as she assured me she’d find a way. I could almost feel the strength radiating through her words, a reminder of who I used to be before this.
She saved me that night. She stood up for me when no one else would, even my own family. She didn’t care about caste or status or reputation. To her, my safety came first, and that was all that mattered. With her help, I walked away from that life, breaking free of the silent suffering that had become my prison.
Today, I’m learning to live again, to breathe, to find peace. I owe that to Mithali and the strength she showed when I couldn’t find it within myself.
Mithali’s POV
Mahi and I have always been inseparable. From childhood through school and beyond, we were each other’s shadows. I knew her better than anyone, which is why it didn’t take long to notice the change in her after she got married. I saw the light leave her eyes, the energy that she’d always carried slowly fading into silence and forced smiles. Whenever we spoke, she assured me things were fine, but I knew my sister too well to believe that.
Then one night, I received a call from Mahi, her voice shaking, barely holding back tears. My heart broke as I listened to her tell me about the abuse she was enduring—from her husband, her mother-in-law, even her sister-in-law. I felt anger rising within me, anger at the cruelty she’d been subjected to and the silence she’d been forced to maintain.
But what made me angriest was that our own parents, bound by caste and tradition, had turned a blind eye to her suffering. They couldn’t see past the so-called “honor” they were trying to protect. I knew they wouldn’t help her, no matter how desperate she was. And that was something I would never accept.
I promised her that I’d bring her out of there. And once I make a promise, I keep it. I didn’t care about the repercussions, didn’t care about the whispers that would follow, or the family name that people clung to so tightly. All I cared about was getting my sister to safety.
The next day, I was at her door, unannounced and unapologetic. I could see the surprise, and maybe even a flicker of hope in her eyes. Her in-laws didn’t expect me to challenge them, especially as a woman, but I didn’t back down. I stood my ground, staring down anyone who tried to stand in my way. I would take her out of there, even if I had to drag her out myself.
Walking away from that house with Mahi beside me was the first time in months I saw a spark of relief in her eyes. She had been through so much, but now, she was free.
Looking at her now, I know she’s still healing, learning to rebuild herself piece by piece. But I’ll be here every step of the way, because that’s what sisters do. And if I have to face the whole world to keep her safe, I’ll do it. Because no one, not even tradition or so-called “honor,” is worth my sister’s life.
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