INAYAT’S POV

"You're leaving me."

"For two days." I had to remind him as I packed a small bag. "I'll be back tomorrow night." I had never imagined he would sulk like that because he won't see me for two days. Since we've been married, we've never been apart.

But I wanted to go to this convention and he had no choice but to agree to it. "Since you don't want me to come with you, tell me your flight details. I'll come pick you up from the airport."

I had to move my eyes away from him and he somehow just knew. "What are you not telling me, darling?"

"I'm taking a bus." He didn't give me any time to explain, simply stood up and marched over to me. He stood closer than usual. Since that day of me being high, the distance between us has lessened. We still don't touch but we don't stand miles apart.

"I'm willing to compromise on a lot but you're not taking a seven hour bus."

"It's ten." I couldn't find one that was short enough. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Why must you piss me off every single time? Take the jet."

I scowled at him. "I'm not taking your private jet for a short one hour flight!"

"Then take a commercial flight. I'll book you a ticket. You are not taking the bus, and that's final!"

Because of his condition I had to take the flight that was available which was only one and now I'm late for the convention. The lady smiles at me with sympathy.

"We really appreciate your contribution and willingness. I'm so sorry but we can't do anything. All the slots for therapists are full." If he hadn't put me on a plane which was six hours after our conversation and then got delayed because it's always raining in UK, I would've made it in time.

Fuck you Harold.

I thank the lady and turn to leave when she stops me. "We can't accommodate you as a therapist but we would really appreciate if you stay for the speech and drinks after." I hesitate.

I worry staying here would bring out memories I rather not face again. "Oh my! You're here too!" I turn and find my patient who told me about this place.

I smile. "I am."

"I'm so happy you came. Even being here is in a way supporting someone." It is, isn't it. I guess staying won't be so bad. I find myself a seat in a corner and watch through the introductory video and stats. I hear a lot of motivational speeches.

They all sound the same. Move on, there is a whole life ahead of you, don't let them know they still have an effect on you.

What they don't talk about is the self loathing. Of not liking your own skin because it feels tainted, touched and abused. Even when we don't see the  bruises anymore we feel them. What no one talks about is suffocation.

What no one talks about is the fear. What's to guarantee the person we move on with won't be the same?

I got lucky. Harold is nothing like that monster. He might have his own demons but he doesn't match the crimes. And it makes me a lunatic for overlooking his flaws of murder but I do. Because he is kind to me. He looks after me.

I focus back on the stage when a different woman comes to stand on the stage. "I don't want to say the same things I'm sure everyone in the world has said to you, I'm here to say something else.

Everything you've went through was something no one deserves. Contrary to what most misogynists believe, no one wishes to be assaulted. No one asks for it, not in their choice of clothing, in their acts of drinking or smoking, or by being in a relationship.

No one ever wants it. All we want is to feel safe, to feel loved and appreciated. I genuinely hope those feelings come to all of you soon enough if they haven't already. Because you deserve it.

I'm not going to say it'll get any easier but I just want you to know you're brave enough to have come this far, and I know you're brave enough to go even farther."

Now this girl gets it. I watch her step off the stage and make her way towards a small stall in a corner. She is quite short but she has an air about her. I wait until the closing ceremony to walk around the place.

There are a couple food stalls and drinks available but I stop at the one with the woman from before on it. "Hi!" She smiles. I smile back. "I liked your speech." I tell her. Her smile widens.

"Thanks. I thought everyone knows the whole 'don't let it affect you stuff', I just wanted to say something different."

"I'm glad you did. It sounded like you understood the pain better." Her eyes lower for a second. "I do. In some twisted way, I do."

"I'm sorry." I say. "I know it won't help or fix anything, but I am sorry you had to go through it." She stares at me for a good minute. A long minute before smiling. "I'm sorry you had to go through it too."

I blink. I didn't tell her, I told no one. I said absolutely nothing to anyone ever. It took this stranger a single minute to understand.

Is it this easy to read me? Does Harold know too? Or is he oblivious the same way my parents have been for forever?

I nod at the woman in acknowledgement before looking around at the stall. "Amm, what is all this?" She isn't selling anything like the other stalls.

"Oh! I'm a board member of the charity that organised this. This is a donation booth. We cover the costs for every therapist and-"

"I thought the therapist were volunteers?"

"They are. But we hope to cover at least their cost of staying here. The charity also provides retreats and rehabilitation services for all assault victims. Not just sexual but also physical assaults.

For people who need help starting a new life. We help them."

"Can I donate?" I ask. This seems like a dream job for someone who came from where I did. I grew up with dreams like these. I wanted to make a change. Help someone, make a difference.

I like to believe I did do something by becoming a therapist but it is not anywhere close to what this organisation does. "Of course." The woman smiles and pulls out a form.

"We take checks and even online transfers. Can you tell me your name?" I blink. "Can I donate it anonymously?"

She has a smiling face in general. She seems content with life. "You can. If you want I can keep your donation anonymous but I can also give you the slip acknowledging your donation and you can claim that in your taxes." I nod.

"It's Inayat." She jots it down on the form and fills it a bit more before looking back up at me. "I can jot down the amount for you as well along with the mode of payment."

I think for a second, "I'll do a bank transfer of £500,000, please." She blinks in my direction, then again, and again and more until we both look like idiots standing in silence.

She shakes her head to come back to the land of the living and writes it all down. "You're that rich to donate that much money?" She asks lightly.

"I'm a therapist. I earn good but not that much. My husband is rich." It's then that her eyes fall to my finger and she raises a brow. "That's a whole ass rock." I look at the diamond on my finger.

"It was his family heirloom or something." His racist grandmother wasn't fond of the idea of me getting their family ring but my husband once again told her to get a life and to respect his wife and the future duchess.

The woman nods and sighs dreamily. "Sometimes it feels nice to be married to rich men." I look at her finger and almost laugh. "Yours is a rock too. A giant one." She smiles as she looks at it.

"My husband got it on our tenth anniversary." I raise a brow. She looks quite young. I didn't think she would've been married that long. "Did you marry young?-" I bite my tongue. I sound too nosy.

She smiles. "Kind of. We were both still in college when we got married." She says before giving me a cheeky smile. "I got pregnant." Ahh. "It feels good to know you're still together and he is still getting you all the diamonds." I point at her finger.

She laughs. "My son picked it out along with my husband. They are both like two peas in a pod." I smile. The way she talks about her family, with pure joy and love, I wanted that. I still want that.

"So you had a son?" She nods. "I have three sons and a daughter. My husband is apparently trying to make up the whole cricket team." She pulls her phone out and shows me a picture of her whole family. Her husband is really handsome.

She has an older boy who looks just like her and two identical twin boys who seem younger. Their daughter is just a toddler but she has a beautiful smile as she tries to pull one of her brother's hair.

I laugh. "You have an adorable family." She smiles. "I got lucky meeting him. He saved me." She say while looking at the photo. "It changes a lot in us to meet someone who makes us hope again, who gives us what the little girl in us always wanted. So I'm really happy I loved the right man."

I drink back the tears that gather in my eyes before she looks at me again. "Did you find it Inayat? That kind of love? Is it with your husband?"

I want to shake my head but I don't. "Even if it is, it is not enough. It would never be enough." She frowns. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm not the girl who had dreams of a perfect family anymore. I honestly was never given the chance to be that girl. And I can't be his wife the way he deserves and the way I truly want to be. I can't even touch him. I can't touch anyone. People being close enough also scares me."

She takes a step back. Giving me space but also hoping to forward a comforting hand. "It's not my place to say anything Inayat but I know you think you're not enough and that needs to change because he is still there, he is still your husband. Does he treat you bad-"

"No." I shake my head. "He treats me like the way one would treat a precious jewel. He does whatever I say to him, gives me whatever I ask for. He never crossed a boundary, always respected my limits, he is...........perfect."

"That's because he doesn't want to lose you. Because no matter what you think of yourself, he thinks highly of you." She turns to pull a card out of her bag and forward it to me.

"This is my other card. I actually have a company that restores historical buildings in India. But my number is on it. If you ever need someone to talk to, to share your problems with or just a friend, just know that I'm there."

"Thank you." I say as I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye and take the card. I bid her goodbye and wish her well with her family.

"I'm hoping we cross paths again someday Inayat!" She calls out from behind. I smile and wave at her one last time before exiting the building and getting in my taxi. It's then that I look at her business card.

Ananya Singh Kapoor

Chairwoman

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