My Possessive Beast Husband

1. My Story.

Pooja

I was a simple girl with modest dreams: to complete my Master's program in Commerce, secure a well-paying job, and lead a peaceful life. But above all, my true long-term goal was to protect my mom and give her the happiness she truly deserved. I longed to see a genuine smile on her face, yet it seemed like an unattainable dream in this lifetime. Little did I know that my life would be completely transformed after that fateful day, and that I would come to resent my gender.

In my family of four, consisting of both my parents, my elder sister Harsha, and myself, my father held the position of authority. According to tradition, we were all expected to honor and obey him without question. Speaking my mind was never an option for me. Though I loved my parents deeply, my childhood was far from normal. My father treated me as if I were a burden, showing little care or concern for my well-being. The only reason he provided us with an education was because it was mandated by law in modern times.

Despite being awarded a scholarship for my studies, my father never granted me the freedom to make any decisions about my life. I was compelled to obey him in all matters, living in constant fear of his wrath. I never dared to talk back or question anything in his presence. I believed that as long as I avoided forming relationships and minded my own business, no one would dare to harm me. However, I never anticipated that my life would take such a turn, leaving me abandoned by my family when I needed them the most.

This is my story.

My name is Pooja Sinha. I stand at 5'5" tall, with long black hair and striking black eyes. At 22 years old, I was raised in a middle-class family. My lifelong dream has been to complete a Master's degree in Commerce and secure a job utilizing the skills I have acquired through my education. I desired a simple life, free from interference. However, life proved to be far from easy, primarily due to my father. Because of him, I developed a deep-seated hatred towards men, having witnessed the darker aspects of masculinity that linger in the shadows, haunting my thoughts incessantly.

I knew my father would never allow me to pursue a job, as he firmly believed that women were only capable of being housewives and nothing more. However, I was determined to prove him wrong. I was at the top of my college class, and I had even been appointed as the president of my college. I had hoped he would be proud of my accomplishments, but instead, his response shattered my heart. He questioned what a girl could possibly do as president, stating that it was men's work, not meant for girls. It was a devastating blow, especially since I had been so eager to share my achievements with him.

Today was Sunday, traditionally a day of happiness and relaxation. However, for me, every morning felt heavy with sadness. I struggled to find joy in my life, unlike many others who seemed content with their lot. I understood that not every girl was treated like a princess by their family; my sister and I were prime examples of the lack of pampering or even a kind word. Would the world truly end if we were allowed to sleep in just one morning? My sister had awakened me as our father was returning home from work, rushing to brush her teeth in fear of being scolded for waking up late.

Usually, my sister woke up at 5:00 am sharp, but today she had overslept due to her phone battery being dead. It was Mom who woke her up, and now she was scolding me for still being asleep. Yes, I detested waking up early, especially considering the workload from both house chores and studies that often kept me up late into the night. Now, as Mom stood there reprimanding me like a drill sergeant, I couldn't help but feel a surge of irritation.

I loathed being berated without reason, although I made an exception when it came to my sister. I knew she scolded me out of concern, trying to protect me from our father's wrath. You see, my father owned a medical shop and spent most of his time there. He even slept at the store, given that it remained open 24 hours. This way, he didn't have to bother coming home every day. My sister would wake up promptly at 5:00 am, while I allowed myself the luxury of an extra fifteen minutes of sleep, uncertain of when our father would return. According to him, girls should rise early to tend to household chores, regardless of whether he was at home or not. With any luck, he wouldn't return today, having come home just yesterday.

Feeling frustrated, I reluctantly opened my eyes but refrained from retorting to Mom's scolding. Instead, I simply inquired about the time. It was now 5:40 am.

I dragged myself out of bed lazily, knowing that the bathroom was currently occupied by my sister taking a bath. In our small house, there were only two bedrooms—one for our parents and the other shared by my sister and me. We had just one bathroom for all of us to use, which sometimes led to discomfort, but we had grown accustomed to it over the years.

Lazily, I began to brush my teeth, not even halfway through when my sister emerged from the bathroom. It was now my turn. Suddenly, the sound of a bike outside caught my attention, causing my heart to race in my chest. My mind echoed with one thought: "Oh my god, today I am going to die." My sister shared my fear, knowing that our father usually arrived at 6 am, but today he had shown up ten minutes early.

Rushing through my morning routine, I quickly used the bathroom, threw on a top and pajamas, and pulled my hair up into a messy bun. With trepidation, I made my way towards the household temple, where I knew I would have to face my father. However, instead of heading directly there, I detoured to the kitchen, where I found my mom brewing tea. She was the pillar of energy in my life, and I couldn't imagine what life would be like without her. Catching her eye, I offered a weak smile as she returned it with warmth.

"Your dad doesn't seem to be in a good mood, so you should keep your mouth shut no matter what happens," Mom instructed me.

"Okay, I will," I responded obediently. "But why are you in here? I can handle everything."

"Don't worry, dear. I've got this," she smiled reassuringly.

"No, Mom, please let me handle it," I pleaded, but she sent me out of the kitchen.

As I approached father’s room, I could sense the tension in the air. My father was scolding my sister, though I couldn't discern the reason. However, I was certain my sister wasn't at fault. My father was known for his short temper and narrow-mindedness, often blaming us for trivial matters. Sadly, this was nothing new for us—it was a daily occurrence.

Entering the room, I saw my father already seething with anger. His ire only intensified upon noticing me. Fear gripped me as he approached, causing my heart to race. I instinctively bowed my head, unable to meet his gaze, and focused my eyes on the floor.

"Where were you?" Father's bark startled me, and I frantically searched for excuses. What could I tell him to avoid his wrath? Unfortunately, my mind drew a blank. I glanced towards my sister, hoping for some assistance, but she appeared just as helpless as I felt. With no other options left, I made the decision to speak the truth.

"I was taking a bath," I admitted, though I knew it wasn't the best choice. I nervously looked up at Father, only to find him absolutely livid.

"Why didn't you wake up early? Can't you handle the tasks assigned to you?" His words stung, and I knew I should remain silent. However, I couldn't suppress my instinct to defend myself.

"We aren't late, Father. You came home early," I replied softly, aware of the risk in speaking out. It was a mistake, and I braced myself for his inevitable outburst of anger.

"Is this what your mom has taught you? What's with the attitude? Where are your manners? Did she not teach you how to speak to your father?" His words stung, igniting a wave of anger within me. Yet, I knew I couldn't retort.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I could withstand anything thrown at me, except when it concerned my mom. Despite my frustration, I remained silent. Our mom had always instructed us not to talk back to our father, emphasizing that he acted in our best interests. But this felt unjust. Just because they were our parents didn't mean we couldn't voice our grievances. It didn't feel fair.

They were our parents, but we were also their children. Yet, in my father's eyes, his authority as the head of the household and his gender made it imperative for us to obey him unquestioningly. I found this mindset stifling and disagreed with it vehemently. It felt like a suffocating weight upon my shoulders. I wanted to assert that it wasn't our fault, but at that moment, my mom intervened, sensing the tension between my father and me.

She ushered me out of the room, my mood dampened by my father's words. Tears streamed down my cheeks. He always placed blame on Mom and us for everything. He believed Mom was attempting to turn us against him, despite her unwavering love for him. She never dared to challenge him, always adhering to his commands. I couldn't comprehend why he behaved this way, why he perpetually doubted us, why he felt the need to instill fear within us.

My father never showed any respect for my mother. Sometimes, he would resort to physical violence and verbal abuse against her, yet she endured it all without a word of protest. It seemed like a grim routine for her, an accepted part of her life. Despite the suffering, she remained devoted to him out of love. That word, "love," held a bitter taste for me. My mother shielded us from witnessing her tears and pain, but we could feel the weight of her struggles. Yet, we were just as powerless to help her.

Observing my mother endure such hardship made me feel powerless and vulnerable. I despised the notion of marriage because of it; the idea terrified me. Witnessing my mother's suffering only intensified my fear. After completing my chores in the kitchen, I sat by the window in my room, gazing outside with a heavy heart. My mother entered the room and asked if I wanted breakfast.

“I’m not hungry,” I murmured, avoiding eye contact.

“Why aren’t you hungry? You should eat breakfast every day,” Mom gently urged.

She always tried to maintain a sense of normalcy, even in the face of adversity. Despite her struggles, she never let on to us about her own health issues. My sister and I took on the household chores to ease her burden.

“Would you feel hungry after hearing a parent say all that?” I questioned, my voice choked with emotion.

She looked at me calmly and replied, “Why are you paying attention to your father's words? This is nothing but a normal day for us.”

How could she carry on as if everything was fine? While she was right that it was nothing new for us, it didn't make it any easier to bear. Sometimes, I felt like my life was devoid of value, as if no one cared for me or loved me, leaving me feeling utterly alone in the world.

According to Father, girls should get married as soon as possible to secure their place in the outside world. That was his narrow-minded belief. Despite the emotional turmoil I experienced, I refused to shed tears in front of others. I despised the idea of being pitied by anyone.

My sister had already completed her college classes, being two years older than me. She attended an all-girls college, while I had earned a scholarship to a Co-Ed College, much to Father's initial disapproval. It took countless efforts, with Mom's support, to finally convince him to allow me to attend. Sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder if I was truly his daughter.

Would anyone ever truly care for me? My life had been filled with hardships, yet I never allowed anyone to witness my struggles. Despite my efforts to conceal my pain, there were moments when it became impossible to hide.

I once asked Mom why Father treated my sister and me with such disdain. She revealed that Father had always desired a son, but she hadn't been able to give him one. Instead, she gave birth to both my sister and me, which only fueled Father's resentment towards us. Despite his animosity, I knew deep down that my mother would never abandon me, no matter the circumstances.

I spent the entire day in my room, disconnected from the world. My phone lay untouched beside me. As the night grew late, it suddenly rang, displaying my best friend Sapna's name on the screen. I hesitated for a moment, then answered the call.

"Hello?" I greeted softly, my voice lacking its usual energy.

"Why weren't you picking up my calls, huh?" Sapna's voice carried a hint of frustration. Despite my reluctance to engage, I welcomed the familiar sound of her voice.

"Sorry," I murmured, "I just wasn't in the mood. What's up?"

Sapna immediately sensed my mood. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me whenever you're feeling down? Yet, whenever you're struggling, you choose to suffer in silence."

Sapna had always been my confidante, knowing me better than anyone else.

"I'm sorry, Sapna. I won't do it again. Please, tell me what's going on," I apologized, grateful for her concern and support.

"Are you planning to come to class tomorrow, or not? You were absent yesterday," she inquired. I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to share the truth with her. Ultimately, I decided to confide in her.

"No, I don't think I'll be coming. I'm just not feeling up to it," I admitted with a heavy sigh.

"Why not? Do you know what's been happening around the college?" Sapna's worry for me was evident in her tone.

Sapna and I had met during our first year's welcome party. Despite her petite stature and occasional quick temper, she had always been a caring friend. Even though she had her own problems to deal with, she never hesitated to look out for me. She possessed an innate intelligence that allowed her to understand my feelings without me having to voice them.

"What happened in class?" I inquired, feeling a tinge of worry for Sapna.

"You know that BBA guy Rahul? He's up to something against you again," she grumbled in frustration. Just the mention of his name made me feel irritated. What could he possibly want now?

"What exactly do you mean?" I prodded, not wanting to deal with any more headaches.

"He's been spreading rumors that there are only 2 days left until the annual festival, and the college president is nowhere to be found," Sapna explained, her frustration evident in her voice. As she spoke, I couldn't help but feel my own frustration growing. This wasn't the first time Rahul had caused trouble, but today, with my already dismal mood, his antics felt even more exasperating.

Rahul Ahuja was the quintessential playboy of our college. He was wealthy, good-looking, and stood tall at about 5’10”. He had a penchant for flirting and was notorious for using girls and then discarding them like yesterday's news. I couldn't fathom why some girls still fell for his charm; perhaps his wealth played a significant role. There were rumors circulating that he hailed from a family with a shady background, although nobody knew the specifics. Personally, I despised him. He seemed to relish in creating problems for me.

A few months back, he had the audacity to propose to me right on the college campus. I outright rejected him, making it clear that I had no interest in him whatsoever. Ever since that humiliating moment, he had been relentless in his pursuit to get a response from me. However, I refused to engage with him. With all the other troubles in my life, I had no time for his antics. If my father were to find out about Rahul's advances, it would spell disaster for me. He was staunchly against any relationships with boys, and if he learned about Rahul's proposal, I'd likely be barred from continuing my college education.

With a heavy sigh, I agreed to go to college the next day. Sapna sounded genuinely pleased, probably because she knew how rare it was for me to venture out. I spent the majority of my time holed up at home, uncertain of which path would lead me to true happiness. After ending the call, I crawled into bed, utterly exhausted from the events of the day. It had indeed been a long and emotionally draining day, and I was grateful for the respite that sleep would bring.

Little did I know that the upcoming annual festival would become the catalyst for a series of events that would completely upend my life.