Pallavi's heart pounded loudly, her chest tightened snuffing the air out of her lungs as she drowned in those constant thoughts that roared in her mind
“Run! Just Run! Where? No idea but somewhere far from the burden of such storm of retaliation for my Love. Somewhere I can be free, somewhere they can't trap me, somewhere far from this tyranny, somewhere they can't find me. Just Run!! This is your chance. RUN!!!”
She sits in her room which is , crafted with love and only love. Yet, the very walls that once felt like warmth now close in on her, turning home into shackles. She sits there, silent, as tears slip down her cheeks from those heavy, glassy, blurred eyes—eyes that once sparkled but now only reflect the weight of a heart drenched in silence.
The deep voices seep through the walls—the teeth clunched whispers of her Amma, Appa, and relatives from the next corner.
"She is a sin; she is disgusting for our community. Let’s kill her, or else she will elope and disgrace us."
Pallavi freezes, her body trembling as fear washes over her. Her heart shatters when she realizes her parents agree with their relatives. Every word - a weight pressing down on her, yet she remains unseen, unheard—just a shadow in corner.
"Is caste pride more precious than a soul?" she asks herself.
All She wants is to live, not for anything but for the love she saw in his eyes, now she doesn't care what the world thinks but the only possible way to protect the love of her life, as these thoughts consumed her, she is ready to fight not for herself but for the person who poured all his love on her.
He was the one who cared for her deeply, never expecting anything in return—except her time. Coming from an orthodox family with many restrictions at home, she could never spend much time with him. Yet, he was always there for her. To him, she was the world—he used to say that all the time.
Pallavi remembered the poem he recited on her previous birthday:
"You are not just one,
You are the one.
You’re not one of many,
You are the only one
She smiled, thinking of that poem, as the words echoed in her mind. "You are not just one, you are the one..." Tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks. She badly wanted to talk to her boyfriend, but her phone wasn’t with her—her parents had taken it away. She felt like a prisoner in her own home.
She decided to leave. She packed her bags and took all her degree certificates with her, knowing her parents would definitely destroy them once they found out she had left—just like what had happened to one of her relatives, she recalled. So, she cleverly gathered all the documents and packed them with care. She didn’t take any jewelry, as she never cared for it.
She knew how to unlock her room door from the inside—it was an old door she had been opening since childhood. She simply unlocked it and quietly slipped out through the back of the house, hoping to escape unnoticed.
To her horror, the very relative she had overheard earlier was standing there, blocking her path.
"Where are you going, Pallavi?" he asks.
"Nowhere. I’m just... I’m just..." Her voice falters.
"Give me your bag. Let’s go inside."
"No... I won’t."
"Give it to me!" he yells, his voice laced with anger.
She kicks him, and he falls to the ground. Without hesitation, she grabs her pepper spray from her bag and sprays it in his face. He cries out, clutching his neck and covering his mouth with a cloth. She shoves him toward the well and sprays him again, this time on his nose and mouth. As he struggles, she ties his hands with a rope and watches as he plunges into the well, sinking into the water.
Pallavi begins to run, her feet carrying her toward the place where she hopes to find happiness. She envisions it as true
"I should have taken it. I should have taken the pepper spray earlier. But then, when he started to cry... and my father also came there and started to cry, I couldn’t do it. I fell for it again, like I always do. My mind, weak and vulnerable, forgets the toxic game they play. My uncle, my parents, they use emotions as weapons, and I always fall for it. How could I be so blind? I was ready to leave, to stand up for myself. But then he cried, and I lost it. I should be stronger than this. If fate grants me another chance, I will rewrite my story, and I’ll stand firm. I’ll finally hold your hands firmly, without looking back."
With a voice that lingers beyond the veil of life, she whispers these words to her boyfriend, who sits before her grave, his hands trembling as he holds a single rose.
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