Chapter 163

Then there was only darkness, and hands, and pain—so much pain that she forgot where her body ended and the floor began.

Roshanay had fainted, overwhelmed by pain, fear, and the bitter taste of helplessness that lingered in her mouth. When she woke, she was back in her room, her mother still sitting in the corner, still not looking at her. There was blood on her clothes and a emptiness inside her that she knew would never fully heal. That night, in her delirium and panic, she had begged her uncle to punish his own daughter and that guard, hoping for justice or at least some measure of accountability, but they roamed free in front of her eyes without consequence. Her uncle had looked at her with something almost like pity, but it faded quickly, replaced by the cold calculus of self-preservation. Her pleas, her sobs, and her broken voice meant nothing. All her uncle did was to send that guard away to somewhere far off, making sure that no one in the brothel would learn of the in