09-12-2024, 12:39 PM
Salma’s heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she entered her opulent home just as the early morning light filtered through the large windows. She didn’t bother announcing her arrival; this house, though grand, felt more like a gilded cage to her. Her in-laws were already awake, her husband Faheem was halfway dressed for the office, and her mother-in-law was in the kitchen, barking orders at the servants.
“Finally back,” her mother-in-law, **Razia Begum**, remarked when Salma stepped into the living room. The older woman gave her a sharp once-over, her expression a mix of approval and curiosity. “Was it worth it?”
Salma smirked as she tossed her handbag onto the sofa. “Of course. The minister practically promised me a promotion. The groundwork is done.”
Razia nodded in satisfaction. “Good. That fool of a son wouldn’t know how to make use of opportunities if they danced naked in front of him. And Maya—always Maya. Ugh, if only I had another daughter like you.”
Salma gave a faint smile, appreciating the rare approval. It was her mother-in-law who had nudged her into these murky alliances, whispering that power didn’t come to the righteous but to the ruthless. The bond between them wasn’t one of love, but of ambition. Both women knew how to wield men for their purposes and despised Faheem’s spineless nature.
In stark contrast, Salma’s father-in-law sat silently at the dining table, sipping his tea and burying himself in the newspaper. He avoided confrontations with either woman, knowing his opinions were unwelcome.
---
As Salma climbed the stairs to her room, Faheem followed her, struggling to suppress his irritation. He had barely spoken to her all week, and when he caught sight of her through the door, undressing for a shower, his stomach twisted.
The marks were impossible to ignore: deep red bite marks and bruises on her breasts. His anger flared as he stared, not at her nakedness but at the evidence of what she had endured.
Salma noticed his gaze, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. She turned toward him, unapologetic and entirely unashamed. “What? You’re going to lecture me now? It was the minister, Faheem. If you’re going to sulk, at least make it worthwhile.”
Her tone was dismissive, as though what had happened was no more significant than a business transaction.
Faheem clenched his fists. “You let that man… do this to you?” His voice was low, trembling with anger and something deeper—shame.
Salma laughed coldly, stepping closer. She didn’t bother covering herself, her confidence unshaken by his outrage. “He didn’t fuck me, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just a little ‘extra effort’ to secure my promotion. Bite marks are a small price to pay for what I’ll gain.”
Her words cut deep, leaving Faheem feeling emasculated. “You call this effort? Letting him degrade you like that?”
Her eyes narrowed, her voice sharp as a blade. “Degrade? Let me remind you, Faheem, this house, your office, and your so-called status—all of it exists because of me. While you stumble through life like a second-rate salesman, I’m out there making deals that matter. So don’t lecture me on dignity when you’ve done nothing to earn it.”
Faheem’s face burned with anger and humiliation. He hated how powerless he felt, how easily she dismissed his outrage. He knew she was right in a twisted way—her connections and schemes kept their lifestyle afloat. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Salma turned away, entering the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Faheem stood there, seething, his pride shattered yet again. In this household, his voice meant nothing, his opinions even less. He was just another pawn in Salma’s relentless pursuit of power, a pursuit that left no room for weakness, least of all his.
“Finally back,” her mother-in-law, **Razia Begum**, remarked when Salma stepped into the living room. The older woman gave her a sharp once-over, her expression a mix of approval and curiosity. “Was it worth it?”
Salma smirked as she tossed her handbag onto the sofa. “Of course. The minister practically promised me a promotion. The groundwork is done.”
Razia nodded in satisfaction. “Good. That fool of a son wouldn’t know how to make use of opportunities if they danced naked in front of him. And Maya—always Maya. Ugh, if only I had another daughter like you.”
Salma gave a faint smile, appreciating the rare approval. It was her mother-in-law who had nudged her into these murky alliances, whispering that power didn’t come to the righteous but to the ruthless. The bond between them wasn’t one of love, but of ambition. Both women knew how to wield men for their purposes and despised Faheem’s spineless nature.
In stark contrast, Salma’s father-in-law sat silently at the dining table, sipping his tea and burying himself in the newspaper. He avoided confrontations with either woman, knowing his opinions were unwelcome.
---
As Salma climbed the stairs to her room, Faheem followed her, struggling to suppress his irritation. He had barely spoken to her all week, and when he caught sight of her through the door, undressing for a shower, his stomach twisted.
The marks were impossible to ignore: deep red bite marks and bruises on her breasts. His anger flared as he stared, not at her nakedness but at the evidence of what she had endured.
Salma noticed his gaze, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. She turned toward him, unapologetic and entirely unashamed. “What? You’re going to lecture me now? It was the minister, Faheem. If you’re going to sulk, at least make it worthwhile.”
Her tone was dismissive, as though what had happened was no more significant than a business transaction.
Faheem clenched his fists. “You let that man… do this to you?” His voice was low, trembling with anger and something deeper—shame.
Salma laughed coldly, stepping closer. She didn’t bother covering herself, her confidence unshaken by his outrage. “He didn’t fuck me, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just a little ‘extra effort’ to secure my promotion. Bite marks are a small price to pay for what I’ll gain.”
Her words cut deep, leaving Faheem feeling emasculated. “You call this effort? Letting him degrade you like that?”
Her eyes narrowed, her voice sharp as a blade. “Degrade? Let me remind you, Faheem, this house, your office, and your so-called status—all of it exists because of me. While you stumble through life like a second-rate salesman, I’m out there making deals that matter. So don’t lecture me on dignity when you’ve done nothing to earn it.”
Faheem’s face burned with anger and humiliation. He hated how powerless he felt, how easily she dismissed his outrage. He knew she was right in a twisted way—her connections and schemes kept their lifestyle afloat. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Salma turned away, entering the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Faheem stood there, seething, his pride shattered yet again. In this household, his voice meant nothing, his opinions even less. He was just another pawn in Salma’s relentless pursuit of power, a pursuit that left no room for weakness, least of all his.
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