Part 1

Shivangshi's pov-

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Please don't leave me...

I screamed, but.. my father my own father left me even after he saw my stepmother beating me. I was 10 years old when my mother died and I became an orphan since that day. What an amazing life.

Truly an amazing life I laughed in my mind while sitting in my wedding mandap where the priest is doing the ritual of my marriage.

My stepmother and stepsister control my whole life. My father is a doll in their hands. I completed my double major in economics and culinary arts and got a job as a manager in a mid-range company, only to have my whole salary snatched by them. They treat me worse than a pet in this house I saw my mother's old saree burned by my stepmother. Now they sold me fucking sold me to a guy whose name I don't know. Were my salary not enough for them?

They arranged my marriage to a guy just to shake me off their shoulder so that my stepsister could get married. They gave that man money without me knowing and he didn't show up escaping with the dowry while sending a letter to our house.

'What did you think Mr. Roy I will marry your that ugly daughter, forget about me even a beggar won't get married to that fat ugly bitch. We thought I would get your younger daughter but seems like you are a scam. So, I will take the dower money as a compensation.'

That's the latter my ex-would-be groom sent to our house. Ah, he did not say any lie no matter how perfect I try to be with my curvy weighted body and double chin, my skin tone will always be pointed out to mock me. But look at me I am getting married to a stranger who was forced by his father into the same wedding venue.

My mother's chain, a simple necklace, wedding churi, shaka pola, and my mom's wedding cloth which my my maternal grandma preserved so that my stepmother couldn't burn it, now I am wearing this to get married. This guy I saw his face in shuvodristi for a second, he seems handsome actually very handsome, I don't know why his father forced him to marry me. Poor guy ruined his life.

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Author note; shuvodristi is a Bengali ritual for weddings. I will attach a photo –

Author pov-

Shivangshi is now sitting on the bed with her new saree for her wedding night in Switzerland, in the dark where the darkness of her mind seems darker than the room. Doors open Rudra entered and switched on the lights pilling Shivangi from her thoughts. "Stand up' Rudra's voice echos, Shivangi stands up from the bed timidly looking up to see Rudras face.

'Do not even try to be my wife, I do not want you, thanks to your bastard father you are here. I was forced into this marriage, I have someone I like. 2 years and I will divorce you so, you don't need to interfere with my matter and pretend outside this room like a happy couple in front of my father and family, am I clear?'

Shivangis pov-

I know this was a forced marriage, and I was not expecting anything outside, but somehow, his word hit me like a needle, I thought. Maybe it's better that he cleared it first. I am not ready for marriage, too, and love ... what was I expecting? My whole life, I craved love but never got any, so a stranger who was forced to marry me can't love me is normal.

'What is your name ?' his deep voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

'Shivangi...Shivangi Roy'

'Sen, you are Sen now... you don't need to carry your bastard father's surname anymore.'

I looked at him surprisingly, his dark brown eyes stared at me blankly. I don't know him at all yet why his words give me a sense of freedom why God. Why ? he is a stranger yet I am not afraid of him my stepmother and father always slapped me if I dared to look at them in the eyes yet this man's eyes gave me a weird assurance, not fear.

I saw him get into the washroom and come out he laid down on the bed and I stood there awkwardly not knowing what to do. He looked at and said, why are you standing there?

'Where should I sleep?' I whispered.

He got up and look towards bed and me and said, 'do you not see the bed? You know right this bed is for sleeping not sporting. Sarcasm roll off from his tongue. Sleep on the bed its Switzerland you will be dead by pneumonia if you dared to sleep on the floor and the sofa you will not fit and have a back pain. So sleep on the bed we will share it and don't worry I will not touch you and I not interested enough to do so and don't touch me either.'

Did he just taunt me? What a rude creature, I thought. I freshened up, put on a white salwar, and lay on the other side of the bed. He seemed to have already fallen asleep. Just two days ago, I was in India, and now I find myself in Switzerland, sharing a space with a man. My life feels like a daily soap opera.

Author note- if anyone reading this I would like to know about your opinion about this story and if you see any mistake do not hesitate to comment about it just remember I am a noob writer...