The soft rustle of the blanket turned Deepak's attention from the window to her.

His thoughts were random and depressing. The clock flickered 3:24 PM

Priya was awake.

Her burnt skin glowed raw against the white bedsheet that barely covered her fragile frame. She didn't speak, but her eyes blinked slowly, and for a second, Deepak wasn't sure she'd even registered his presence.

She hasn't put on clothes since her skin has been burnt. He never saw her in an indecent manner.

The ointments had sunk into her skin, leaving red patches and bruised textures behind.

Anything against her skin would sting.

He didn't move towards her. Instead, he sat back down on the sofa across from the bed, legs crossed, elbows resting on his knees, his fingers folded together tightly.

"You need not punish yourself like this," he said softly.

She didn't answer. Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, as though she was afraid her words might set the room on fire again.

"I mean it, Priya," he continued, "you don't have to hurt yourself to prove a point. This is self-harm and I hate it. I hate seeing you like this."

Her voice, when it came, was a whisper, but it sliced the air like glass.

"You ditched me just because I got raped by a bastard, right?"

Silence. A sharp one. Deepak leaned forward instinctively, his heart slamming hard against his chest.

"No," he said firmly. "No, Priya."

He took two steps toward the bed, "Don't you dare think about that again. Ever."

She turned her head to him now. Her face was pale, but her eyes had begun to water, fury and sorrow tangled in their depths.

"Then why?" she asked. "Why did you stop speaking to me? Why did you avoid my eyes? Why did your voice change?"

Deepak drew a sharp breath. "Because I felt tricked."

She flinched. That word hit her like a slap. But he didn't stop.

"I felt like I was just your way out. That you saw me as a person who will take you away from all this pain. And maybe... maybe I did offer you that. But the fact that you didn't tell me the truth earlier - before marriage, before anything - it broke something in me."

She closed her eyes as tears slid down her temples into the pillow.

Deepak's voice cracked now. "I've been used before, Priya. My ex-girlfriend - she didn't love me. She just wanted my help to get top grades in college. She'd come to me crying, praising my kindness, and once she got what she wanted, she left. She didn't even say goodbye."

His fists clenched, and his voice trembled. "I thought... when I married you... that this time, it would be different. That I would finally be loved for who I am."

"I never wanted to use you. And I didn't choose to be raped too..." she whispered.

"Am I that horrible?" he said, almost breaking. "When I found out that I was just a backup plan, I got angry. Deeply angry. And yes, maybe I didn't handle it well."

He walked back to the sofa and sat, burying his face in his hands for a second before lifting his head to look at her, "But I didn't ditch you, Priya. I didn't leave. I was angry, but I still brought us breakfast. I still thought of you when I walked around the lake. I still came back."

Her tears spilled faster now. "Maybe because you wanted to treat me as a human. But deep inside, you are seeing me differently now."

"Because I didn't know how to deal with this," Deepak admitted. "I've never dealt with this before. I didn't know if I was allowed to be hurt or not. You were the one who suffered - and still, I felt broken too. It made me feel guilty and confused. I needed space to think without exploding."

A pause.

He exhaled, softer this time. "Am I not human too?"

The words hung in the space between them like a fragile thread.

Priya turned toward him slowly, wincing as the bedsheet dragged against her blistered skin. But her gaze had changed. Her eyes, though swollen and red, softened for a moment.

"I didn't tell you," she said, her voice shaking, "because I was scared of everything and everyone. Even my family judged me... How can I trust a husband of 1 week? Yes, I wanted to use you to get out of that hell... But you were the first person who ever looked at me like I was normal. I felt safe with you. Your kindness made me trust humanity again. I told you the truth with the thought that you wouldn't judge me or ridicule me..."

Deepak's face crumpled. He got up and walked to the bed - but stopped just short of touching her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For hurting you by withdrawing. This pain that you endured is very new to me."

Priya didn't respond for a moment. Then she said softly, "I couldn't even feel my skin burning. Life is stinging me more than these burns."

Her lips quivered, "I was just so sure you would leave. You didn't trash me. You didn't call me names. But you ignored me."

Deepak looked up.

"You weren't normal yesterday," she continued, her voice trembling. "I spent more than an hour making that malai paneer because I thought food could bring us back together. Maybe if you ate something I made with care, you'd see that I still loved you."

He opened his mouth, but she didn't let him speak.

"And what did you say?" she went on, her lips shaking. "You took one bite and said, 'No salt.' That's it. That's all you said. Cold. Flat. Like a stranger talking to someone who bumped into him on the road. Is this some restaurant?"

He dropped his eyes.

"And this morning," she said, her voice now rising slightly, "you didn't even wake me. You didn't even whisper a 'good morning.' You didn't make a single sound when you left. You left me sleeping on that couch - alone. I was confused if you'd come back or not."

Her eyes were stinging now, but she let the tears fall. Let them sting her cheeks. Let them mirror the pain inside.

"So don't say you didn't leave me, Deepak," she said, quieter now. "You left me in all the ways that mattered. Emotionally, you had already gone. And I knew. I knew last night, when you closed the door and didn't even look back."

He looked up, face pale. "Priya-"

She shook her head.

"Yes, I didn't tell the truth before marriage." she said bitterly. "I didn't lie to you, Deepak. Don't you see? I could have stayed silent. I could've just put on a fake smile and continued this fake life till my last breath. No one would have said this to you too."

She leaned forward, hands clenched against her lap. "But I told you the truth. I told you what happened to me - even though I knew it might ruin everything. Even though my own mother told me to never speak of it again."

Deepak looked up, pain written all over his face, but his mouth remained shut.

"You know why I told you?" she asked, voice cracking. "Because I wasn't scared of you. I trusted you. I believed - like a fool - that maybe, just maybe, you would understand. That you would see the truth behind my shame. That you wouldn't see my body as some... contaminated thing."

Deepak's throat moved, but he still didn't speak.

"But no," she said, bitter laughter escaping her lips. "You are just a man. A normal man. One who values virginity like it's some rare gem you need to possess."

"That's not fair-" Deepak began, but she cut him off.

"Isn't it?" she snapped. "Tell me something. If I had told you on our first day that I was raped when I was fourteen, would you have married me?"

He paused.

And in that pause, she found her answer.

"Exactly," she whispered.

She wiped her eyes. "I didn't choose what happened to me, Deepak. It was done to me. I didn't open the door to that monster. I didn't invite him in. I was just a child."

Her voice dropped to a haunted whisper. "But even now, after all these years, I'm still being punished for it."

She looked up, directly into his eyes.

"You think my virginity was taken from me?" she asked, bitterness creeping into her voice. "No. It wasn't. Because it was never just in my body, Deepak. My virginity - my real purity - was in my heart. In my soul."

He looked confused and startled.

"I've never seen a man romantically," she said, eyes burning with sincerity. "Not until you. Not even once. Not even a crush, not even a fantasy. When you kissed my chin that night, do you remember? Something inside me stirred. Like a part of me I thought had died came back to life. That was my first real kiss, Deepak. Not that disgusting thing that was forced on me. But yours. Yours was my first."

Deepak looked stricken now. His hand twitched, like he wanted to reach for her but didn't know if he had the right.

"But now," she said, quietly, "I understand. We can never be together. There's too much... bitterness between us now. Too many things left unsaid."

She looked away, toward the window. The light was beginning to fade into the violet. Somewhere far away, she heard the faint honk of a bus.

"I saw some buses from Madurai to my hometown," she said slowly. "I've checked the timings. There's one at 7:10 p.m."

Deepak's breath caught.

"I'll leave tonight."

He stood abruptly. "Priya-"

She raised a hand, not in anger, but in finality.

"I won't stay here, you are seeing me as a burden. You may have brought breakfast, and you may have come back - but something in your eyes died the moment you heard the truth. And I can't beg you to love me. I've begged enough in my life."

She stood, clutching the blanket tightly around herself, wincing as her blistered legs steadied themselves.

"And yes," she said softly, almost kindly, "if divorce is possible, please give it soon. You deserve a girl who has your version of purity. Who checks every box. A girl whose past doesn't haunt your dinners or your mornings."

Deepak opened his mouth.

"And maybe," she added, her voice barely a whisper, "I deserve someone who can see the virginity in my heart. Who understands that trauma doesn't erase love - it only makes it harder to give. And more precious when it's given."

She turned her back to him, walked slowly toward the bathroom to change, her steps light, cautious, and broken.

Behind her, Deepak stood frozen, not by anger this time.

In the fear of losing a treasure.