No, I won't go."
It took immense courage for Bani to voice those words. To outsiders, they might have seemed simple or impulsive. But for her, they were a declaration of freedom—a lifeline to escape the suffocating silence she had endured for far too long.
The old man, wrapped in his panche, shifted uneasily on the wooden chair. He was from the groom's side, brought here as a mediator—a voice of reason, or so they believed. His role was to de-escalate tensions, not take sides, and certainly not raise his voice.
"Bani," he began cautiously, "divorce is not the solution to everything. Why do you want this? Let's sit down and talk calmly. Perhaps we can understand where things went wrong."
Bani let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Where it went wrong? Uncle, it didn't go wrong because it never started. This marriage never began."
The old man froze momentarily, caught off guard by her words. He glanced at Piyush and his family seated across the room, their expressions shifting between discomfort and indignation. The groom's mother whispered something to him, but no one else dared to speak. Clearing his throat, the old man turned back to Bani. "What do you mean?"...he asked carefully.
Bani took a deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly. But her voice remained steady, fueled by months of bottled-up frustration. "After a year and a half of marriage, I am still a virgin."