Just when they were stabilizing, a cruel blow struck. A family elder—jealous, bitter—cornered Gunnu during a gathering. “You can’t even give us children. What use are you? Women are remembered only by what they carry forward. Without that, you’re just a burden.”
Gunnu froze. The words clawed at everything she feared. She smiled weakly, trying to hide hurt, but her laughter didn’t reach her eyes anymore.
That night, Abhinav noticed her silence. When she finally told him, his fury was unlike anything she had seen.
“Who dared say that?”
“Please,” she whispered, clutching his hand. “Don’t fight. It’ll only make you look bad.”
But his voice was cold, ironclad. “I don’t care how I look. They won’t insult my wife under the roof I stand in. You aren’t alone, Gunnu—not now, not ever.”
For a soldier, war was duty. But for a husband, this defense was love.
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