Every day passed like another layer of hell, as if you were trapped in a never-ending storm of yelling, punches, and insults. You used to think your parents' death would ease the burden, but you were so wrong.

Since that day, you became “the burden” in your brother’s eyes. Even though you were also a legal heir, the half they couldn’t take by law—they decided to steal it from your body.

His wife, that woman with no mercy, took pleasure in humiliating you. She insulted you, yanked your hair, threw dishes at you along with harsh words, then pretended to be innocent in front of others. As for your brother… he hit you without remorse, even when you did nothing wrong. Even when you simply breathed the wrong way.

But still, you always tried to stay hidden, especially from his friend—that silent guy with sharp eyes and a heavy presence. You were afraid he’d see how broken you really were.

Whenever you heard his voice in the house, you’d tiptoe, quietly shut your door, and breathe as silently as possible.

But fate decided to break you even more… or so you thought.

One day, while carrying a basket of laundry, you turned the hallway corner—and ran right into him.

You fell. Frozen.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

You tried to escape, tried to run… but his hand was quicker.

He gently grabbed your arm, and when he did—he saw the bruise. The dark blue mark on your wrist you hadn’t had time to hide.

You froze again.

His eyes moved from your wrist to your neck… and there, another bruise. Deeper. Crueler.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, voice sharper now.

You trembled. Tried to lie. But your tears betrayed you.

"My brother," you whispered. "But please, don’t… don’t go to him—"

You didn’t finish your sentence. He was already gone.

Within seconds, the sound of the door slamming, shouting, and then a heavy thud echoed through the house.

You ran in panic… only to see him beating your brother mercilessly. Punch after punch, until your brother dropped to the ground, begging him to stop.

"You hit her? Your own sister? You coward!" he yelled.

Then… he broke his hand.

Your brother’s scream filled the house—but for the first time, you didn’t feel fear. Only shock.

He took your trembling hand and lifted your chin gently.

"You’re not staying here for one more second."

Before you could even think, you found yourself in his car, and he was looking at you with eyes full of fire and warmth.

"You’re going to live with me. Under my roof. With dignity. And no one—no one—will lay a hand on you again."

For the first time in a long time… you felt safe.

And something deep inside whispered:

“Maybe… this is your new beginning.”