The fake wedding had sealed something inside Meera and Riya that could not be undone. The black thread around Meera’s neck felt heavier every day—like an invisible chain that tightened when she breathed too deeply. Riya wore one too now, tied by Rudra’s hand the morning after the ceremony. The sisters no longer spoke of “escape” in words. But the thought lived between them like a shared heartbeat—quiet, desperate, dangerous.

One night, after Rudra had fucked them both to exhaustion—first Meera on her back, legs over his shoulders, dick pounding her pussy until she squirted; then Riya bent over the bed, ass high, taking him deep while Meera held her sister’s face and kissed her through the moans—Rudra drank heavily. Country liquor burned his throat. He passed out on the big bed, snoring like thunder.