I am not supporting any violence or abuse towards women. When the book comes to an end, you will be inspired by the female lead, though you feel her as naive in the beginning. This book is to encourage girls to fight with life and spread message never to quit, though life is not full of roses and thorns come across your way. Read with patience. Thank you.

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The iron gates of the sprawling villa creaked open, revealing a mansion so majestic it seemed to pierce the heavens. Abhigna stepped forward, the golden embroidery of her bridal saree shimmering under the unforgiving sun. Her eyes lingered on the towering structure before her, its beauty as cold and unyielding as the man waiting inside. This was her new home, a place that promised wealth and grandeur but reeked of silent oppression.

She clutched her saree tightly, her knuckles pale against the fabric. Each step felt heavier than the last as the reality of her situation settled in. The sound of distant birds chirping contrasted starkly with the weight of her heart. She wasn’t here for love. She wasn’t here for happiness. She was here to heal a man whose soul had been shattered long before she entered his life.

At the entrance, a maid stood waiting with a silver tray. A tiny flame danced atop a camphor in preparation for the traditional aarti. The maid’s hesitant smile faltered when a deep voice cut through the moment like a blade.

“What is the meaning of this?” Trishul’s voice was cold, sharp, and commanding.

The maid flinched, nearly dropping the tray. “Aarti, sir... for the bride and groom. It’s tradition.”

Trishul’s dark eyes flicked to Abhigna, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow, cruel smirk curled on his lips.

“There is no bride and groom here,” he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Only a master and his servant.”

The words struck Abhigna like a physical blow, but she stood rooted to the spot. Her heart ached, but she forced herself to remain composed. This wasn’t the first time life had been cruel to her, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Put that tray away,” Trishul ordered, his gaze never leaving Abhigna. “She doesn’t need blessings. She needs obedience.”

The maid hurried away, and Abhigna swallowed the lump in her throat. She had stepped into this mansion knowing full well what awaited her, yet the sheer malice in his words stung in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

“Welcome to your new home,” Trishul said mockingly, gesturing towards the door. “Your prison, your sanctuary. But don’t think for a second that you can walk in without my permission.”

Abhigna paused, her resolve hardening under his scrutiny. “Do you expect me to wait outside?”

He tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Exactly. Stand there until I decide you’re worthy of entering.”

Rain clouds gathered ominously overhead as Abhigna stepped back from the threshold. She glanced at the gray sky, its promise of rain mirroring the storm in her heart. Hours passed. The drizzle turned into a downpour, soaking her to the bone. Yet she remained steadfast, her posture unbroken.

Trishul watched from a window, his expression one of cruel satisfaction. He relished her discomfort, as though punishing her for daring to exist in his world.

By nightfall, the rain had ceased, and the air was thick with cold. Trishul finally emerged, his face impassive as he looked down at her shivering form.

“Still alive, I see,” he said casually, his voice devoid of concern. “Go around the back. There’s a restroom where you can change. The maid will leave you a saree. Sleep by the door tonight. You’re not allowed inside yet.”

Abhigna didn’t argue. She accepted the saree handed to her and disappeared into the restroom. The cold water stung her skin as she washed away the grime of the day, but it did nothing to soothe the ache in her heart. Clad in the fresh saree, she returned to the front of the villa and lay down by the door. The cold floor bit into her skin, but exhaustion soon overtook her.

Inside, Trishul sat in his dimly lit study, a glass of whiskey in hand. His eyes lingered on the rain-streaked window, where the ghost of her figure still seemed to haunt him. Abhigna. Her name was a curse, a reminder of his torment. She was the one thing he couldn’t control, and that infuriated him.

He downed his drink in one gulp, the burn doing little to quell the fire inside him. “She’ll break,” he muttered to himself. “They all do.”

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the clouds, casting a deceptive warmth over the villa. Trishul stepped outside to find Abhigna still asleep by the door. With a sharp nudge, he roused her.

“You survived,” he said, his tone mocking. “Impressive.”

Abhigna sat up, blinking against the harsh light. She didn’t respond, her silence infuriating him further.

“Clean the grounds,” he ordered. “You have two hours. Finish on time, and you might get some water.”

Abhigna glanced at the broom handed to her and nodded without complaint. She set to work, the sun beating down on her as she swept the sprawling driveway. By the time she finished, her lips were cracked, and her hands were blistered.

“I’m done,” she said quietly, holding up her phone to show a timestamped photo. “Five minutes early.”

Trishul’s eyes narrowed, anger flickering in his gaze. “You think a clock dictates my rules?”

“I don’t expect fairness,” Abhigna replied, her voice calm but firm. “But I expect you to honor your word.”

For a moment, he stared at her, his jaw tightening.

The tension in the air was suffocating as Trishul’s cold gaze bore into Abhigna’s tear-streaked face. She stood frozen, her back against the wall, her breathing uneven as his hand hovered near her forehead.

“I decide what’s right here, and I don’t care about your proofs,” Trishul snapped, his voice low but laced with venom.

Abhigna swallowed hard, mustering every ounce of courage to hold his gaze. “I acknowledged that I completed the work on time,” she began, her voice steady despite her trembling hands, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll go against your order. The day I slapped you, you were a stranger to me. Now you’re my husband. Why would I treat you the same way?”

Her words were like a slap in the face, unexpected and cutting. Trishul’s eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, she continued, her tone soft yet unwavering.

“So, what now?” she challenged, tilting her chin slightly in defiance. “Do you want me to starve outside until you allow me in? I’ll do it. What’s the next task? Oh, and you mentioned I should shower after sweeping. Can you provide me with clothes, or should I wear the same saree?”

Her calm defiance left him momentarily stunned. He had expected her to plead, to crumble under his cruelty, not to accept his harshness with such grace. For a fleeting moment, he felt his resolve waver, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to relent entirely.

“Go inside,” he finally said, his voice sharp but quieter now. “Have water. Only water. The maid will show you to your room. Take a shower and meet me afterward.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the silent corridor.

---

Abhigna followed the maid to a sparse, bare room. The maid, her face apologetic, handed her a simple set of clothes as instructed. After a quick shower, Abhigna changed and returned to Trishul’s room, her damp hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders.

Trishul stood by the window, his back to her, but when he turned, his eyes immediately caught the faint red mark of sindhoor on her forehead. His expression darkened.

“Where did you get that sindhoor?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

“I took it from the maid,” Abhigna replied calmly, her composure unshaken.

He nodded curtly, his jaw tightening as he called for the maid. The woman entered hesitantly, her hands wringing nervously.

“Did you give her that sindhoor?” Trishul asked, his tone ice-cold. The maid nodded, her head bowed in fear.

“You’re fired,” he declared, his voice firm and unyielding. “How dare you give it to her without my permission?”

Both the maid and Abhigna stared at him, stunned.

“Trishul!” Abhigna exclaimed, stepping forward. “Every married woman wears sindhoor. She gave it to me because I requested it. Please, don’t punish her for this.”

Her plea was met with silence. Trishul’s face was impassive, his eyes unreadable. But when she continued, her voice growing more desperate, his expression hardened further.

“Please punish me if you must, but spare her. It was my fault,” she insisted.

Trishul’s gaze flickered between the two women before landing on Abhigna. “Remove that sindhoor,” he ordered abruptly, his voice like steel.

Abhigna froze. “Trishul...”

“You are not my wife,” he cut her off, his tone biting. “This marriage is merely a formality to control you. I don’t want to see you wear any symbols of marriage.”

Her heart clenched at his words, but she refused to let him see her pain. “You don’t need to get emotional,” he added, his voice devoid of empathy. “Besides, if something happens to me, you’ll be free from all this.”

“I don’t wish harm upon anyone,” Abhigna replied quietly, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.

“No arguments,” he snapped. “Remove it, or I will.”

Her eyes widened at the threat, but she stood her ground, her gaze unwavering. “Soon, you’ll prefer death over enduring my torment,” Trishul continued, his words cutting deeper than any blade.

He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her as he backed her against the wall. Abhigna’s breath hitched, but she refused to look away, her tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

“You are not my wife,” he said coldly, his hand lifting toward her forehead. “And I will make sure you never forget it.”

Her heart raced as his fingers hovered over the sindhoor, ready to erase the symbol of their unwanted union. Yet even in that moment of vulnerability, Abhigna’s voice rang out, soft but filled with unshakable determination.

“Go ahead,” she whispered, her tears shimmering in the dim light. “Erase it. Humiliate me. Destroy every shred of my pride. But you can’t change the truth. I am your wife, Trishul, whether you accept it or not.”

Her words hung in the air, defiant and unyielding, leaving Trishul momentarily stunned. For the first time, he saw not weakness in her tears, but a strength that threatened to shatter the walls he had built around his heart.

Hi readers, How's the episode? This will be posted only on Wattpad until the book completes. What do you think about Trishul and Abhigna? Please vote, comment and add the book to library, if you find the story interesting. Dive into their journey to know why Trishul became a beast and how Abhigna entered into his life. Why is he so determined to torture her? Let's see as the story flows.