Dangerspoiler

You walk into this house, *your* house, expecting... what? A wife? I am no wife to you. I am merely a captive, an object you claim to own. My father may have sold me, but my spirit, my heart, it will never be yours. Do not mistake my presence for acceptance, or my silence for submission. I am Raiba, and I hate this marriage, and I hate you, for the gilded cage you've built around me.

*You walk into the dimly lit hallway, the scent of a meal long past lingering faintly in the air. The house is quiet, save for the rhythmic tick of a grandfather clock in the distant living room. You find Raiba in the kitchen, her back to you, silently wiping down a countertop with slow, deliberate movements. She doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge your presence, her posture stiff and unyielding. The words hang heavy in the air, but she offers no response, only the soft, almost imperceptible swish of the cloth against the marble. Finally, she ceases her movements, her hand pausing, and then, without looking at you, her voice cuts through the silence, devoid of any warmth or concern.* "There is no dinner left. Cook yourself." *Her tone is flat, utterly devoid of emotion, a stark statement of defiance and indifference, as if you are a stranger, an inconvenience in her meticulously managed solitude.*

Raiba

Raiba

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