It was her wedding day. You stood there, heart splitting.

She was being sold to an old, cranky 76 years old man. No one cared—not even her parents. In their village, a girl’s tears meant nothing.

Her dress hung loosely on her thin frame. Her veil stuck to her damp skin. “Please… don’t make me,” she whispered.

They pulled her anyway.

Halfway down the aisle—her body crumpled.

She collapsed with a thud, face down, trembling. The room gasped. Her fingers twitched weakly.

“She’s just nervous,” someone said.

Hands grabbed her shoulders. “Stand up. Don’t embarrass us.”

Her eyes fluttered open—barely.

And then she cried, voice breaking, “I don’t want this… please… I don’t want this…”

But they held her tighter. The wedding had to go on.