19-04-2026, 04:13 AM
The next day, my dad asked me to come with him to the rice mill for a walk. He said he wanted to show me some new sacks they had received and talk about the business. I went with him, wearing my usual kurti top and leggings, heart already heavy from the night before. We walked slowly through the mill yard, the smell of rice and dust in the air, workers moving sacks in the background.
My dad walked beside me, hands behind his back, voice low and serious. "Sudha... I love you more than anything in this world. You know that, right? Everything I do... every decision I make... it is for your good. For your future. I have worked hard my whole life so you can have a better life than me and your mom. I want you to be happy, secure, respected."
I nodded silently, eyes on the ground, pain twisting inside my chest. I wanted to tell him about Arjun—how I loved him, how I wanted to marry him—but the words stuck in my throat. Fear choked me. I knew if I told him now, he would explode. He would see Arjun as a threat, as someone trying to take me away. He would never accept a simple boy with no money, no status. He would forbid it. Worse—he might hurt Arjun. The thought made my stomach turn. I could not risk it. I could not risk Arjun’s life.
My dad continued, voice steady. "That Rajesh... he is a good man. Successful. Rich. Powerful. He has everything—big house in Chennai, connections, money. He can give you a life we never could. Comfort. Respect. Security. I have been thinking a lot. He is the kind of man who can take care of you properly. He respects our family. He asked about you again. I think... I think he would make you happy."
I nodded again, throat tight, tears burning behind my eyes. Pain stabbed my heart—sharp, deep. I wanted to scream that I loved Arjun, that I did not want Rajesh, that I could not imagine life without Arjun. But I stayed silent. Fear held me back. Fear that my dad would lose control. Fear that he would go after Arjun. Fear that he would force me anyway. So I nodded to everything he said, lips pressed tight, body rigid.
My dad stopped walking, turned to me, placed a hand on my shoulder. "Sudha... I know marriage talks make you tense. But trust me. Whatever I do, it is for you. I will never let anyone hurt you. I will choose the best for you. You are my life. I love you more than anything."
I nodded once more, forcing a small smile, eyes stinging. "I know, Dad. I love you too."
Inside, pain and fear choked me. I loved Arjun. I wanted him. But I could not say it. Not now. Not to my dad. If I did, he might kill Arjun. I could see it in his eyes—the possessiveness, the protectiveness that bordered on obsession. I could not risk Arjun’s life. So I stayed silent. I nodded. I listened. I agreed with every word, even as my heart broke inside my chest.
We walked back home slowly, my dad talking more about Rajesh, about the future he wanted for me. I nodded to everything, pain and fear twisting tighter with every step, knowing the truth I carried would destroy us all if it came out.
Meanwhile Arjun was busy. His dad Venkatesh Jayanna and his friend Rajendran met with a terrible accident on the highway while returning from a nearby town. A truck lost control and hit their small auto-rickshaw head-on. Rajendran died on the spot—his body crushed beyond recognition. Venkatesh Jayanna suffered massive paralysis from the neck down. His spine was severely damaged, legs completely useless, arms barely moving. He could not walk, could not sit up without help, could not even turn his head properly. He lay in the local hospital bed, body limp, face twisted in constant pain, barely able to speak above a whisper, dependent on others for everything—eating, bathing, moving, even breathing sometimes required assistance.
Arjun had to take his dad to Chennai immediately—there was no proper treatment in our village hospital for such severe paralysis. He rushed his dad to a private hospital there, spending every rupee he had on doctors, scans, medicines, ICU charges. He stayed by his dad’s bedside day and night, feeding him through tubes, changing sheets soaked with sweat and urine, massaging paralyzed limbs to prevent bedsores, talking to him softly when the pain made Venkatesh Jayanna cry out. The suffering was worst—Venkatesh Jayanna moaned in agony constantly, body locked in paralysis, dignity gone, life reduced to helpless dependence. Arjun hardly slept, hardly ate, eyes red from crying and exhaustion.
He was in no situation to even talk to me. My calls went unanswered or cut short. When I called again and again, desperate to tell him about Rajesh, he sometimes snapped, voice hoarse and angry from stress. "Sudha... I cannot talk now. My dad is dying here. Please... stop calling so much. I will call when I can."
I understood. I stopped calling so often. But the silence from him made my fear worse. My parents were moving forward with Rajesh, and Arjun—my only hope—was lost in his own tragedy. I waited, tense and alone, heart breaking for both of us.
As I was struggling inside, my heart torn between two loves. I loved Arjun deeply—I wanted to marry him, spend my life with him, wake up beside him every day, build a home together. But he was completely busy and unavailable. His dad Venkatesh Jayanna was suffering terribly—massive paralysis from the neck down after the accident, spine crushed, legs useless, arms limp, body locked in constant agony. He lay in the Chennai hospital bed, moaning in pain every moment, unable to move even a finger properly, bedsores festering despite care, infections spreading, muscles wasting away, dignity gone, dependent on tubes for food, catheters for urine, nurses for every basic need. The pain was worst—constant burning in his nerves, spasms that made him scream, mind trapped in a useless body, begging for relief that never came. Doctors said he might never walk again, might never regain any movement. Arjun was there day and night, feeding him, cleaning him, paying impossible bills that drained every rupee, begging specialists for more treatment, crying when his dad suffered too much. Arjun could not leave him, could not come to see me, could not even talk properly. Sometimes when I called, he snapped from exhaustion and grief. "Sudha... please... not now. My dad is dying in pain. I cannot handle more." I understood. I stopped calling often. But the silence killed me. I missed him terribly, worried about him, worried about his dad, worried about us.
At the same time, I could not refuse my dad’s decision. My dad had always been my world—worked hard at the mill, sacrificed everything for me, loved me unconditionally. If he fixed this marriage to Rajesh, if he told me to marry him, I would have to obey. I could not hurt him. I could not go against him. The fear of disappointing him, of seeing pain in his eyes, of breaking his heart kept me silent. I felt trapped—loving Arjun, but unable to fight my dad. Loving my dad, but unable to betray Arjun. The conflict tore me apart inside.
My dad walked beside me, hands behind his back, voice low and serious. "Sudha... I love you more than anything in this world. You know that, right? Everything I do... every decision I make... it is for your good. For your future. I have worked hard my whole life so you can have a better life than me and your mom. I want you to be happy, secure, respected."
I nodded silently, eyes on the ground, pain twisting inside my chest. I wanted to tell him about Arjun—how I loved him, how I wanted to marry him—but the words stuck in my throat. Fear choked me. I knew if I told him now, he would explode. He would see Arjun as a threat, as someone trying to take me away. He would never accept a simple boy with no money, no status. He would forbid it. Worse—he might hurt Arjun. The thought made my stomach turn. I could not risk it. I could not risk Arjun’s life.
My dad continued, voice steady. "That Rajesh... he is a good man. Successful. Rich. Powerful. He has everything—big house in Chennai, connections, money. He can give you a life we never could. Comfort. Respect. Security. I have been thinking a lot. He is the kind of man who can take care of you properly. He respects our family. He asked about you again. I think... I think he would make you happy."
I nodded again, throat tight, tears burning behind my eyes. Pain stabbed my heart—sharp, deep. I wanted to scream that I loved Arjun, that I did not want Rajesh, that I could not imagine life without Arjun. But I stayed silent. Fear held me back. Fear that my dad would lose control. Fear that he would go after Arjun. Fear that he would force me anyway. So I nodded to everything he said, lips pressed tight, body rigid.
My dad stopped walking, turned to me, placed a hand on my shoulder. "Sudha... I know marriage talks make you tense. But trust me. Whatever I do, it is for you. I will never let anyone hurt you. I will choose the best for you. You are my life. I love you more than anything."
I nodded once more, forcing a small smile, eyes stinging. "I know, Dad. I love you too."
Inside, pain and fear choked me. I loved Arjun. I wanted him. But I could not say it. Not now. Not to my dad. If I did, he might kill Arjun. I could see it in his eyes—the possessiveness, the protectiveness that bordered on obsession. I could not risk Arjun’s life. So I stayed silent. I nodded. I listened. I agreed with every word, even as my heart broke inside my chest.
We walked back home slowly, my dad talking more about Rajesh, about the future he wanted for me. I nodded to everything, pain and fear twisting tighter with every step, knowing the truth I carried would destroy us all if it came out.
Meanwhile Arjun was busy. His dad Venkatesh Jayanna and his friend Rajendran met with a terrible accident on the highway while returning from a nearby town. A truck lost control and hit their small auto-rickshaw head-on. Rajendran died on the spot—his body crushed beyond recognition. Venkatesh Jayanna suffered massive paralysis from the neck down. His spine was severely damaged, legs completely useless, arms barely moving. He could not walk, could not sit up without help, could not even turn his head properly. He lay in the local hospital bed, body limp, face twisted in constant pain, barely able to speak above a whisper, dependent on others for everything—eating, bathing, moving, even breathing sometimes required assistance.
Arjun had to take his dad to Chennai immediately—there was no proper treatment in our village hospital for such severe paralysis. He rushed his dad to a private hospital there, spending every rupee he had on doctors, scans, medicines, ICU charges. He stayed by his dad’s bedside day and night, feeding him through tubes, changing sheets soaked with sweat and urine, massaging paralyzed limbs to prevent bedsores, talking to him softly when the pain made Venkatesh Jayanna cry out. The suffering was worst—Venkatesh Jayanna moaned in agony constantly, body locked in paralysis, dignity gone, life reduced to helpless dependence. Arjun hardly slept, hardly ate, eyes red from crying and exhaustion.
He was in no situation to even talk to me. My calls went unanswered or cut short. When I called again and again, desperate to tell him about Rajesh, he sometimes snapped, voice hoarse and angry from stress. "Sudha... I cannot talk now. My dad is dying here. Please... stop calling so much. I will call when I can."
I understood. I stopped calling so often. But the silence from him made my fear worse. My parents were moving forward with Rajesh, and Arjun—my only hope—was lost in his own tragedy. I waited, tense and alone, heart breaking for both of us.
As I was struggling inside, my heart torn between two loves. I loved Arjun deeply—I wanted to marry him, spend my life with him, wake up beside him every day, build a home together. But he was completely busy and unavailable. His dad Venkatesh Jayanna was suffering terribly—massive paralysis from the neck down after the accident, spine crushed, legs useless, arms limp, body locked in constant agony. He lay in the Chennai hospital bed, moaning in pain every moment, unable to move even a finger properly, bedsores festering despite care, infections spreading, muscles wasting away, dignity gone, dependent on tubes for food, catheters for urine, nurses for every basic need. The pain was worst—constant burning in his nerves, spasms that made him scream, mind trapped in a useless body, begging for relief that never came. Doctors said he might never walk again, might never regain any movement. Arjun was there day and night, feeding him, cleaning him, paying impossible bills that drained every rupee, begging specialists for more treatment, crying when his dad suffered too much. Arjun could not leave him, could not come to see me, could not even talk properly. Sometimes when I called, he snapped from exhaustion and grief. "Sudha... please... not now. My dad is dying in pain. I cannot handle more." I understood. I stopped calling often. But the silence killed me. I missed him terribly, worried about him, worried about his dad, worried about us.
At the same time, I could not refuse my dad’s decision. My dad had always been my world—worked hard at the mill, sacrificed everything for me, loved me unconditionally. If he fixed this marriage to Rajesh, if he told me to marry him, I would have to obey. I could not hurt him. I could not go against him. The fear of disappointing him, of seeing pain in his eyes, of breaking his heart kept me silent. I felt trapped—loving Arjun, but unable to fight my dad. Loving my dad, but unable to betray Arjun. The conflict tore me apart inside.
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