Success, when it rises too quickly, attracts more than admiration.

One afternoon,

a merchant arrived wealthy and known more for his greed than his generosity. His caravans carried silk and spice, but his eyes carried calculation.

He had heard of the cloth.

He had heard of the girl.

When he first stepped into Lakshita’s courtyard, his gaze did not linger on the fabrics spread neatly for display. It shifted—slow, assessing, unsettling—toward the quiet girl standing behind them.

Lakshita felt it instantly.

There are some looks that do not touch the skin, yet make the soul step back.

The merchant praised the embroidery, ran his fingers over the patterns, asked clever questions—but his interest was no longer in the threadwork. It was in the hands that made it.

That evening, he returned.

This time, not with compliments—but with an offer.

He spoke to her parents inside the house, his voice low, manipulative Gold coins clinked softly against one another as he placed a pouch on the wooden table. More than they had seen at once in years.

“I want to take her with me,” he said smoothly. “She will live in comfort. Her talent deserves a bigger market.”and in return you will get gold coin every month

The words were polished.

The intention was not.

Her father hesitated only long enough to imagine the relief of permanent wealth. Her mother’s eyes flickered with fear—not for her daughter, but for what the village would say if Lakshita simply left with a man.

Reputation mattered. Appearances mattered.

And greed often disguises itself as concern.

So her mother suggested what made it acceptable.

“Marriage,” she said quietly. “If you wish to take her, it must be as your wife.” we can't risk our reputation in society people will talk behind our back. rumours will spread in seconds, we can't let go her like this.

The merchant did not flinch.

“A slow smile curved across his aging face. His intentions were not only corrupted by the beauty of Lakshita’s designs and talent, but his lustful gaze was also fixed on her outer beauty.”for him it was like killing two birds with happening one stone. Now he can get both from lakshita a wealth and pleasure.

“I agree.”

Lakshita, standing beyond the thin wall, heard every word.

Her hands trembled—not from weakness, but from the crushing realization that she had been measured… and priced.

The same hands that rebuilt their fortune were now being traded for more.

She waited—just once—for her father to refuse.

For her mother to protect.

For someone to remember she was their daughter before she was their investment.

But silence answered her.

And in that silence, Lakshita understood something far more terrifying than the merchant’s gaze—

She was alone.

The merchant slowly rose from his seat, a disturbing smile stretching across his aging face. His eyes gleamed with a hunger that made Lakshita’s parents uneasy, yet they said nothing. With false politeness, he asked if he could meet his future wife.

Both of them nodded in agreement.

Lakshita’s mother silently led him down the narrow corridor and stopped in front of Lakshita’s room. She pushed the door open and stepped aside.

In the dim corner of the room stood Lakshita, her back pressed against the wall as if she wished to disappear into it. Fear had drained the color from her face, and her trembling hands clutched the edge of her dress.

The merchant stepped inside.

Slowly.

Each heavy step echoed through the room like a warning.

Lakshita’s breath grew uneven as he came closer. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her eyes wide with terror.

Then suddenly—

His rough hand shot forward and grabbed her wrist in a tight, painful grip.

Lakshita gasped.

The merchant leaned closer, his face twisted with amusement.

“Don’t you greet your future husband?” he said mockingly.

His eyes shamelessly roamed over her, his gaze crawling over her like something filthy. A manic laugh escaped his throat, filling the room with a chilling sound.

Disgust burned through Lakshita. His touch felt like poison on her skin.

She struggled against his grip, desperately trying to free herself.

“Let go of me!” she said, her voice shaking but firm. “I will not marry you.”

For a moment there was silence.

Then the merchant burst into loud, cruel laughter.

He tightened his grip even more and leaned closer to her ear.

“Your will?” he sneered. “No one here cares about your will, girl. Not your parents… and certainly not me.”

His laughter echoed again, dark and merciless, as Lakshita’s heart pounded with fear and fury.

The Truth hit her like a stone. Realised that his words were true nobody care about her choice.