She was looking out the window. The lights were switched off in the room. The street lamp was glaring. The two flashlights in the nearest building were directed at her house. The curtains were drawn apart, therefore the bed she was lying in was well lit. She was trying to remember how many times she begged her husband to close the curtains. Each time, he refused sternly, reminding her how stupid she was to grasp the fact that if the lights were off in the room, people outside could not see anything. She was still uncomfortable. She suspected that the security guard of the half-constructed building next door saw everything. She imagined young men who loitered in the neighbourhood during the day filming everything at night. She had stopped reasoning with her husband for some time now. He always gets his way leaving her more miserable than ever. Every conversation she was trying to have with him turned into a verbal assault. 

She kept looking out the window as a habit now. She was clutching the baby monitor tightly. She could see the black and white colour figure from the screen because the lights were off in the baby’s bedroom. Her baby was fast asleep in the next room. He had turned back to the camera and she could only see his back. Her heart skipped a beat. Then she looked at her husband who was doing what little he could do. She felt like vomiting. Her body knew what her heart refused to accept.  His touch was enough to make her throw up. The nauseating feeling she experienced during pregnancy returned. She felt like her soul was leaving her body. She was lying like a piece of wood log; emotionless and soulless. Her body was stiff.  She wanted to push her husband away and run as fast as she can. She wondered how many minutes it would take her to run to her parents’ house which was 4 minutes drive from the house she was slowly dying. 

While she was looking at her husband, she dreamt of her teenage years. Her teenage self would have been repulsed by her husband now. He turned out to be the exact opposite her teen self-dreamt of. She was attracted to fair thin boys back then. Hayden Christensen features were sought after. Then reality hit her hard. No Christensen, No Jensen Ackles not even average-looking Sri Lankan guy would save her. She married a short dark cruel man. She was cursing to herself how her thinking got her married to her husband. She did not find him attractive yet she thought he was a nice man and loved him. The façade of niceness slipped after some time. Now she was trapped in a prison of marriage. 

She looked at the baby monitor in her hand to check the time. Almost midnight. She was thinking she was like Cinderella; always finishing her work at 12 for months now. She was hoping the baby would wake up at 12 like before. Then she could escape this deeply soul-crushing humiliation. She remembered she had an entire kitchen to clean, put the laundry in the drying line and a saree to iron for tomorrow’s office. Today she would sleep at one A.M. She thought how her husband withdrew affection for two years now. No kisses, no cuddles, no loving words, nothing but occasional slaps. The bitter reality was that with each paper cut, she loved him less. He had always been like this. She made the relationship worked. All he wanted from the relationship was  lifelong servitude. She started to say less. She started to walk on eggshells to keep the peace. She went numb. Her dignity angrily left her. She was counting the days her baby turns 18 so she could leave her husband. 

“You won’t survive. Your boy will definitely repeat the cycle of abuse. Pack your bags and come home.” Her sister said to her. 

She didn’t have courage that her sister had. 

“You need therapy or psychiatric help,” her sister said. 

“No. I am not going to let  his mom to call me unfit to look after my baby. No way “, she said. 

She was woken from her reverie when her husband pulled her body to the other side of the bed. 

“Remove your top”, he said angrily.

 “No”, she said.  

After her husband refused to close the curtains, she started wrapping her t-shirt over her head leaving only the eyes visible. Several times her husband asked her to remove it but she refused. She told him when someone released their sex tape at least she would be unrecognizable. She laughed to herself  imagining how she would look in her tape. A naked lifeless body, head covered in a t-shirt. 

She was lately thinking that if her husband left her for another woman, she would be free of this suffering. She knew her husband well enough to know that this was unlikely not because her husband loved her but because what he wanted was a slave to do household work, bear his children while he enjoyed life. A silly idea came to her mind. She should go to Nawagamuwa shrine and do a pooja to wish another woman to his life. What was she going to tell the Kapu Mahaththaya at the shrine? She could say that she was seeking help to marry off her unmarried brother. She again laughed to herself.  She was certain that she was going insane. 

She looked at the baby monitor again. Now she can see the baby’s face. She had asked her baby for forgiveness so many times for bringing him into this family.  She would fight her battles whatever it took. She would not let her husband and his family have their clutches on him. If she left and lost custody, her baby would be just like them – entitled, opportunistic, cruel and psychopathic. 

“Change of position?”

“Ah?”  

“Change of position?” her husband asked again.

“No. I have severe back pain”, she said

“No. You don’t have pain” he said.

She said nothing. She felt like wringing his neck. She was telling him for 11 months that she had a back pain. He kept ignoring. The only time he acknowledged her back pain was when they were in bed. The other day she remembered how she  bawled her eyes out at mid-act. And what he did ? He just looked at her and asked to move a bit so he could lie and continue to stare at his phone. “No. You don’t have a pain”. Him denying her pain and with each time he said this she ceased to exist a bit. This time she said nothing. She was a gray rock. She reminded herself again. 

Baby started to cry. She pushed her husband away and bolted across to the next room. She switched off the camera and started feeding the baby. Baby fell asleep immediately. She dared not move. She lay there disgusted at her naked body. She usually  cry in the shower. A shower could cleanse her body. A good cry could relieve her mind. She decided to stay at least 10 minutes before going to the bathroom. If her husband realized that baby was sleeping he would call her again. She stayed on the bed; she kissed the baby’s head. Tears started to pour.   She wanted all this to be a dream…