I am Arunima Raichand, and this is my story.

It has been a year since my marriage, and I now belonged to someone. “Till death do us part,” my entire life had become bound to another person. This was my truth now. I was someone’s wife. It was my duty, a vow I had to fulfill.

But was I happy?

No, I wasn’t. And I had no other choice. My parents only wanted Dev and me to separate, and before we could truly be together, we were torn apart.

Even though I went far away from Dev, my heart never left him.

You may think I’ve lost my mind, but my heart never drifted away from Dev, even when I knew he never had any feelings for me. He was living a happy married life with his wife, Meera, and their children. I had even heard that in these past two years, they had two more kids. I was happy for him, yet my heart broke knowing he could never be mine.

Do you know why I loved Dev?

Because he knew how to love. He understood what love meant and how to honor it. Sadly, those emotions were never meant for me.

One year away from Dev and one year of marriage… two years passed.

But I still couldn’t love anyone else. My heart still beat only for him. I knew I was being foolish. He was a married man, and I was married too. Even thinking about him felt like a sin.

My marriage wasn’t out of my own choice. But I had no other option. I accepted it for my family, but I could never remove Dev from my heart, even when I knew he was living in Bangalore with his wife. I spoke to him one last time on the phone and…

Anyway, let’s move forward.

My life changed overnight because I was trapped in a marriage of compromise. My heart was filled with bitterness — my own family had used me like a bargaining chip. Before I could even recover from Dev and my past, my family told me that my marriage had been fixed.

I didn’t even know the man, but they said he had done a lot for our family, and we were indebted to him.

Well, my parents also had their own debt upon me. They had adopted me from an orphanage. They never told me this, but I found out when I discovered the adoption papers in my father's library.

I thought marrying the man of their choice would be a way to repay their kindness.

My marriage was a profitable deal for them as well. Growing up, I had seen my father involved with the underworld and mafia connections — to keep our family safe and his business running.

The family I married into had only one requirement — their daughter-in-law should be simple, ordinary, someone who didn’t demand too much and didn’t pretend to be someone else.

Of course, I fit perfectly into that idea.

I thought marriage would take me into a new life and help me forget my past. My family said my future husband was a good and kind man. Trusting them, I married a complete stranger.

But after the wedding, I learned that everything they said was just words.

A good and kind man?

He didn’t even know how to behave with a woman. Expecting love from such a man was stupidity.

At one point, I believed marriage would heal my broken heart. I thought my husband would be gentle and understanding.

But soon, I discovered that this was far from the truth. My husband was neither soft-hearted nor kind, and he had no idea what love meant.

Gradually, I realized I was married to a selfish, cold-hearted, arrogant man who only cared about power, money, and physical pleasure.

That was all he understood.

And so, my heart closed itself forever. I felt that I wasn’t made for love. My husband constantly reminded me of my “value” in his life. I was only useful to maintain his status. I was his wife, yes — but more like a showpiece.

He didn’t know how to love, but he certainly knew how to use a body. Or you could say, it was his hobby. And if not with me, then with someone else.

After my first heartbreak, I didn’t have the courage to fall in love again. But witnessing everything in my marriage made me pity my fate. Perhaps love was never meant for me.

Maybe I was one of those people for whom the word “love” was never created. My husband always reminded me what I meant in his life. The truth was, he needed me only when he was extremely stressed. In those moments, I became a tool for him to release his frustration.

That was the bitter truth of my married life.

In one year, I got used to everything. I no longer had complaints, and I no longer had expectations.

I am Arunima Raichand, writing the last page of my diary.

These are things I cannot say to anyone, so I spill them onto these pages to lighten my heart.

It is midnight now — 12 a.m.

Today is my first wedding anniversary.

But I know tomorrow will be no different. Just like always, my husband will once again remind me that I hold no value in his life.