Her memories clung to that night, ignited by a charged meeting at her father's house—the caresses, his breaths, and the sweet words that lingered in her mind. "Did I hurt you, love?"
Tears welled down Sharisha's cheeks, wetting her nap down to her chest. She sobbed in pain, clutching her dress, her knuckles turning white. "Why does it have to be Karalana? Why now, why today?"
Weeping uncontrollably, Sharisha felt helpless. Her father, the disapproving force behind her misery, raised questions. "Why? Who is he to decide my happiness?"
"Sharisha?" A voice echoed.
She turned limp in her composure.
"Mum, they too," she pointed at the window. "They took Kia, my husband."
"Come here; I am sure your father will do something; he can't afford to see you, surfer, my Rish."
"But why did he let them take him away? Why mum?"