Raman kept glancing at the door, his anxiety growing with every passing minute. He stepped outside a couple of times, scanning the street, but there was no sign of Manjari. He had tried calling her multiple times, but she hadn’t picked up. His frustration simmered as he looked at his wife, Sakshi, who was silently working in the kitchen, deliberately ignoring him. He wanted to yell at her, but he couldn’t—because Sakshi had learned to fight back.
Suddenly, a faint groan echoed from the bedroom. Raman rushed inside to find his mother, Madhavi, lying on the bed, her eyes brimming with silent tears. She glanced at him with sorrow before turning her face away.
“Don’t worry, Ma,” Raman said softly. “Manjari will be here soon.”
He picked up his phone again, but just as he was about to dial, he heard the doorbell. Manjari had finally arrived.
“You’re late again,” Raman snapped. “Mother has been waiting for you.”
“Bhaiya, what can I do? The traffic—”
“Enough excuses. Just go see her,” he cut her off.
Manjari entered the bedroom, gently closing the door behind her. Meanwhile, Raman stood fuming, glaring at Sakshi, who continued her chores as if nothing was wrong. He stormed into the kitchen, ready to confront her, but before he could speak, Sakshi packed her lunch, picked up her bag, and walked out—heading to school without a word.
Raman clenched his fists in frustration. What could he even say?
He made tea for Manjari and called out, “Manjari, your tea is here.”
When she came out, he asked, “Is Ma okay?”
Manjari hesitated before replying, “Yes, Bhaiya. She’s fine.”
“Then why wasn’t she speaking to me all morning?”
Manjari sighed. “Her clothes were soiled. She was upset. I bathed her and changed her. Maybe that’s why she didn’t respond.”
Raman’s anger flared. “Didn’t you put on her diaper last night?”
“I did, Bhaiya, but accidents happen. I’ve cleaned her up. She hasn’t eaten or drunk anything since morning. Everything on the table is untouched.”
Raman’s blood boiled. “What kind of wife do I have? She doesn’t even care if my mother suffers! If it were her own mother lying there, would she still be so heartless? She never even checks on Ma. Doesn’t she have any shame?”
Manjari looked at him, her eyes sharp. “Bhaiya, do you really not know what’s in Bhabhi’s heart?”
Raman was stunned into silence.
The Past – A Story of Cruelty and Broken Promises
As he sat there, memories flooded back—the day Sakshi had entered his home as his bride. Back then, it was just him, his mother, and his sister, Vaishnavi. A small family. But from the beginning, Madhavi had treated Sakshi with cold disdain. She saw her as a threat—a woman who might steal her son’s love.
Vaishnavi, taking advantage of this, constantly provoked her mother against Sakshi. And Raman, blindly devoted to his mother, always took her side.
One day, Vaishnavi forgot to give Sakshi her college uniform to wash. The next morning, when she found it dirty, she threw a tantrum. Madhavi, instead of scolding her daughter, screamed at Sakshi.
“Maa, how is it my fault? Vaishnavi never gave me the dress!” Sakshi argued.
That was enough. Madhavi burst into fake tears. “Is this the respect your wife has for me? One day, she’ll throw me out of this house!”
Without a second thought, Raman slapped Sakshi—hard.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she said nothing. Vaishnavi and Madhavi exchanged a smirk before walking away.
Sakshi wanted to leave, but her parents refused to support her. “This is how married life is,” they said.
And so, the torture continued.
The Final Blow – A Slap That Killed More Than Just Pain
Years passed. Sakshi was now seven months pregnant.
One rainy evening, while Raman, Madhavi, and Vaishnavi relaxed at home, Madhavi ordered Sakshi to make coffee. As Sakshi carefully carried the tray, Vaishnavi rushed out of her room and collided with her. The cup fell, spilling hot coffee.
Vaishnavi wasn’t hurt, but she screamed dramatically. Before anyone could react, Madhavi delivered a brutal slap to Sakshi’s face.
The force was so strong that Sakshi lost her balance—her stomach slammed against the dining table.
She collapsed, writhing in pain.
Raman rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late. She had miscarried.
The Aftermath – A Heart That Refused to Forget
After a week in the hospital, Sakshi was discharged, but Madhavi refused to care for her. “Send her to her parents,” she demanded.
Raman, fearing social backlash, hired a nurse instead—Manjari.
For twenty days, Manjari witnessed the cruelty. Madhavi and Vaishnavi ate without a thought for Sakshi. If Manjari wasn’t there, Sakshi starved. If she needed the bathroom, she dragged herself there, clinging to the walls.
No one cared.
The Silent Rebellion – When Karma Spoke
Sakshi recovered but was never the same. She took up a teaching job, ignoring their protests. Vaishnavi got married and left.
Years passed, and Sakshi never conceived again. Madhavi pressured Raman to remarry, but Sakshi refused to divorce.
Then fate struck.
Madhavi, in a fit of anger, left for her sister’s house—only to meet with an accident. Now, she lay bedridden, helpless.
Everyone expected Sakshi to serve her.
But Sakshi’s words silenced them all:
“I will not take care of her. Hire a nurse or call Vaishnavi. Because every slap has its price. I am not a goddess to forgive and forget.”
The hatred in her eyes made even Madhavi look away.
Vaishnavi refused to come. So, once again, Manjari was called.
Sakshi still cooked, still cleaned—but she never served.
And for the first time, no one dared to demand more.
Because karma had finally spoken.
Final Thoughts
This story is a painful reminder that cruelty always returns. No one has the right to break another soul and then expect unconditional love.
Every slap, every wound, every tear—has its price.
And sometimes, the cost is far heavier than the oppressor ever imagined.