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The dimly lit room seemed to grow darker with the heavy tension that hung in the air. 

A woman stood towering over a small girl, her hand gripping the girl's elbow with a fierceness that turned her knuckles white. 

Tears streamed down the girl's face, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and pain.

"How dare you, you brat!" the woman spat, her voice a harsh whisper. "Maine mana kiya tha na ki meri cheezon ko haath mat lagana, toh phir kyun?" Her grip tightened, causing the girl to wince visibly.

"I'm... I'm so... sorry, Mumma," the girl sobbed, her voice breaking with each word. "Please, muhje dard ho raha hai."

The woman glared down at her, her eyes filled with a cold, unforgiving rage. "Just don't call me Mumma," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Ghinn aati hai muhje teri shakal dekh ke."

The girl's sobs grew louder, her small frame shaking with each convulsive breath. 

She tried to pull away, but the woman's grip was relentless, her anger a tangible force that seemed to fill the room. 

The girl's heart ached as much from the words as from the pain in her arm, the sting of rejection cutting deeper than any physical hurt.

"Please," she whispered again, her voice barely audible, "please let go."

For a moment, it seemed as if the woman might relent, her grip loosening slightly. 

But then, with a final, contemptuous sneer, she released the girl's arm, shoving her away with a force that sent her stumbling.

The girl fell to the floor, clutching her elbow, her sobs filling the oppressive silence that followed. 

She looked up at the woman, her eyes searching for a trace of the mother she once knew, but finding only a stranger filled with a cold, unyielding fury.

"Get out of my sight," the woman said, turning away. "Before I do something I'll regret."

The girl scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest, and fled the room, her cries echoing down the hallway as she ran to find a place where she could hide from the pain and the heartbreak that seemed to follow her every step.

.

.

.

.

Trishna Negi sat up abruptly in her bed, gasping for air as the remnants of another nightmare clung to her consciousness. 

Her chest heaved with each breath, the familiar terror lingering in the dimly lit room. 

Another sleepless night, another battle with the darkness that seemed to plague her every time she closed her eyes.

She extended a trembling hand to the bedside table, reaching for the water jug, but found it empty. 

With a resigned sigh, she slipped out of bed, her bare feet meeting the cold floor as she donned her slippers. 

The house was silent, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her mind.

Descending the grand staircase, Trishna moved quietly through the opulent hallways of the Negi mansion. 

The house was the epitome of extravagance and elegance, each room a testament to her family's wealth. 

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