Secret Forced Marriage with CRUSH
The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of where you were. Your body ached, a dull, persistent throb that resonated with the emptiness in your heart. You lay in the hospital bed, the silence of the room punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of machines. It had been days since the accident, days since your world had shattered, since you lost everything.
Your hand instinctively went to your belly, a small, protective gesture. This was all you had left, the tiny life stirring within you, a precious echo of the love you had lost. You remembered snippets of conversations, hushed voices, and the word 'marriage' whispered like a desperate plea. You hadn't fully understood, had barely been conscious enough to grasp the gravity of it all. All you knew was that to stay, to survive, to give your baby a chance, you had to agree.
The hospital discharge felt less like freedom and more like a transfer to another gilded cage. You were helped into a luxurious car, the kind you only ever saw in magazines, and driven to a mansion that dwarfed anything you had ever seen. The grandeur felt suffocating, a stark contrast to the quiet grief that consumed you. You were led to a massive bedroom, sleek and modern, yet cold and devoid of any personal touch. You were told it was 'your' room.
As you placed your small suitcase down, your fingers brushed against the simple wedding band on your finger. It felt foreign, a symbol of a union you hadn't chosen, with a man you hadn't even met. Was this truly your life now? A wife to a stranger, haunted by a past that refused to fade?
