A few months later, Sana's decision shocked everyone, especially her family. The girl who was once praised for her intelligence now stood at a crossroads they had never imagined. She chose to marry Kevin—not just for love, but because of an unavoidable reality. Her pregnancy became an urgent burden, leaving no room for clear thinking, as if the world had decided her fate without giving her a choice.
The day finally arrived. In the living room of her family's small house, Sana stood in a simple cream-colored dress. Her face appeared calm on the outside, but inside, her heart was a storm of uncontrollable emotions. Her mother, who had always been her greatest supporter, sat in the corner of the room. Her usually warm eyes were now filled with unshed tears, carrying an unspoken pain.
"You've ruined your future," her mother's voice broke the silence. She stood up slowly, her hands trembling, as if wanting to reach out to Sana but held back by the deep disappointment. "Becoming a doctor was our dream. You know that."
Sana swallowed hard, trying to suppress the turmoil in her chest. She looked at her mother's face—the face that had once been her greatest source of strength. The words felt like a slap, painful, yet not entirely wrong.
"This is my dream, Mom," she finally replied, though her voice was barely audible. Yet in her heart, doubt echoed. Was marrying Kevin truly her dream? Or was it merely an escape from the relentless pressure crushing her?
Her mother remained silent, her gaze tracing Sana's face. The face that once radiated hope and joy now seemed like a shadow of the beautiful past, tainted by rushed decisions. In the quiet, there was a feeling of loss that words could not express.
The wedding was simple, without luxury or grand celebrations. In a small, quiet church, they exchanged vows in front of a handful of witnesses. The faces present appeared more out of obligation than happiness, adding to the sense that the day was merely a formality to be endured. Sana stood beside Kevin, gripping his hand tightly, as if trying to convince herself that this was the beginning of something better.
Yet, deep in her mind, whispers of doubt couldn't be completely ignored. Was happiness truly waiting at the end of this road? Or was she merely trading one pressure for another? As Kevin looked at her with the smile that once made her heart race, Sana forced a smile in return. She wanted to believe that, with Kevin, she would find the happiness she had always sought. But deep down, she knew true happiness might not be so easy to find.
Time passed, and that happiness never truly arrived. After the birth of their first child, Kevin changed. The charming man she once knew often came home late, reeking of alcohol and filled with anger. Violence became a part of their lives, like a dark shadow that never really left.
At first, Sana tried to find excuses. "He's just tired," she thought. "Maybe the work pressure is too much." But over time, those excuses grew weaker. Kevin wasn't just tired—he had become someone almost unrecognizable. Harsh words, fists against the wall, and humiliation in front of their children became a suffocating routine.
Their children—Jesica, Tommy, and Albert—each bore different scars. Jesica, now 18, was the most vocal. Her gaze was filled with disappointment every time she looked at her mother, as if silently asking, "Why did you let this happen?"
One night, as they sat in the dimly lit living room, Jesica finally voiced her thoughts. Her silhouette appeared older than her years, and her low voice resonated with restrained anger.
"You just stay silent. That bastard doesn't deserve to be called a father," she said, her words sharp like a knife.
Sana took a deep breath, her hands trembling on the worn wooden table. She wanted to respond, to explain, but her voice was trapped in her throat. How could she say that she herself didn't know how to escape? That fear and dependency had gripped her too tightly?
"I... I tried," Sana whispered at last, her voice barely audible against the stillness of the night.
But Jesica only shook her head, her expression cold and unmoving. "Not enough, Mom. It's not enough," she said softly, rising to leave the room. The silence that followed was suffocating, a weight too heavy to lift, hanging in the space between Sana and the fragmented shadow of who she once was.
Tommy, their 15-year-old middle child, rarely spoke. He spent his days locked in his room, bathed in the dim, bluish glow of his computer screen, losing himself in games that allowed him to escape reality. Though his lips remained sealed, Sana knew—felt it deep in her bones—that the same resentment simmered within him. It was like a quiet fire, burning slowly but steadily.
Albert, just nine years old, was different. His emotions poured out in the form of tears, often for reasons even he couldn't explain. The nights were filled with his muffled sobs and quiet, desperate pleas that cut through the silence. "Mama, hold me," he would whisper. Yet Sana, who should have been his sanctuary, found herself unable to provide it. Her body was drained, her mind clouded, and her growing reliance on sedatives and alcohol had built an invisible wall between her and her children.
Kevin, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on control. He dictated not only their finances but their emotional lives as well. Every attempt Sana made to resist his grip only ended with new scars—some visible, others buried deep in her soul.
At one time, after another volatile argument with Kevin, Sana sat alone in their bedroom. The steady tick of the clock filled the emptiness, each sound mocking her with its relentless march forward. She reached for the framed wedding photo on the bedside table. In it, she was smiling—radiant, hopeful. But now, that smile felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of a life she no longer recognized.