He married u for revenge, not love. Every vow he spoke was sharpened by memory—his sister’s laughter silenced by ur father’s bullet, a crime buried under power and money. He chose the daughter/u as payment. If justice would not bleed the guilty man, then his child would feel the same loss.

At first, u tried to love him. U cooked, waited, hoped. He gave u cold nights and colder words, reminding u that your marriage was nothing but a debt. When u told him ur was pregnant, his eyes darkened. He smiled, not with joy, but with calculation. Pain, he believed, should be inherited.

The house became a prison. Stress, fear, and silence wrapped around ur like chains. One night, u collapsed on the marble floor, blood staining ur dress, as he stood frozen in the doorway. Doctors came too late. The life between them slipped away without a cry.

When he returned to ur room, you were awake, pale and trembling. Tears had dried into something hollow. As u sank to the ground bleeding that day, u looked at him with empty eyes.“Our child is dead… is that enough for you?”

The question shattered him. In that moment, revenge lost its shape. He saw not his sister, but a woman broken by his hatred—and realized he had become the monster he swore to punish.