The walls of their once-happy home trembled with rage and agony. The echoes of shouts and the sharp sound of a hand meeting skin filled every corner. It had been an hour since the fight began. Eva, battered but determined, was doing everything she could to defend herself against the storm of fury unleashed upon her. The man who once vowed to love and protect her had become her greatest source of suffering. His anger manifested in words as cruel as his blows, each syllable laced with venom. Her body ached, bruises forming where his fists had landed, but her spirit fought to remain unbroken.
In the dimly lit corner of the kitchen, hidden inside a cramped wooden cabinet, a pair of tiny, terrified eyes peered through the slats. Anna, Eva’s six-year-old daughter, was frozen in fear, her small hands clutching a pink doll tightly to her chest. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out everything except the horrifying scene unfolding before her. Her mother—her beautiful, kind, and ever-smiling mother—was now unrecognizable. Her face, usually so warm and full of love, was streaked with pain, her once-bright eyes dulled by exhaustion. Anna wanted to scream and run to her mother’s aid, but her body refused to move.
Just that morning, everything had been so normal. The sun shone brightly through the windows, birds chirped, and Anna had played outside with her friends, laughing as they ran through the neighborhood. She had been looking forward to her birthday, excited to invite her friends to celebrate with cake, balloons, and laughter. Their new home in Wisley had seemed like a dream—a bigger house, a beautiful garden, and kind neighbors who always greeted them warmly. But now, that dream was crumbling before her innocent eyes.
Anna had not expected to see her father today. He had been absent for weeks, and though she missed him, she had grown accustomed to his absence. She had often asked her mother where he had gone, but Eva would only smile softly and say, “He’s away for work, my love.” But today, he was here. The same familiar shoes, the same beige hat, the same deep voice that once sang her to sleep. Yet something about him was different. His face was twisted with rage, and his voice was sharp and unforgiving. He wasn’t the father who took her on evening car rides, who played rock music too loudly and made her laugh with his silly, wrong lyrics. This was someone else entirely.
Anna had hidden in the cabinet purely by accident. She had just returned from her friend’s house and wanted to surprise her mother with a hug. But as she stepped into the kitchen, the sound of her mother’s scream stopped her in her tracks. In a panic, she had crawled into the cabinet, closing the door just in time to witness the nightmare unfold.
Her mother’s cries echoed in her ears, each sob slicing through her like a knife. She wanted to make it stop. She wanted to run out and tell her father to stop hurting her mother. But her small body refused to move. Tears burned her cheeks as she tried to understand what was happening. Her father was supposed to love her mother. He was supposed to love her. Then why was he saying such terrible things?
“If you don’t leave now, you will never see Anna again,” he spat, his voice devoid of any emotion. “I will tell her you died. You’ll be nothing but a memory to her.”
Eva’s breath hitched, but she did not protest. There was no pleading in her eyes anymore, no desperate attempt to change his mind. She had fought for years—for love, for respect, for a home that wasn’t built on fear. But today, she was done. He had taken so much from her—her peace, her dreams, her dignity. But he would not take her daughter.
With shaking hands, she picked up the small bag she had packed weeks ago. She had been waiting for this moment. The day she would finally walk away. As she stepped towards the door, she turned once, her gaze instinctively drifting to the kitchen. It was as if she could feel the silent presence of her daughter, watching, hidden in the shadows.
And then, a small movement.
A tiny foot stepped forward.
Anna emerged from the cabinet, her pink doll dangling limply in her grasp. Her small, tear-streaked face turned towards her mother, not her father. In that moment, she made her choice. Without hesitation, she took another step forward. And another.
Her father’s face contorted with fury. “Anna, come here!”
But she did not move towards him. She walked to her mother instead, her little hand reaching out. Eva gasped softly as she felt the warm, trembling fingers slip into her own. She knelt down, cupping Anna’s face gently, her own tears mingling with her daughter’s.
“My love…”
Anna clung to her mother tightly. “Mommy, don’t go without me,” she whispered. “Please.”
Eva held her daughter close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She rose to her feet, looking at the man who had once been her husband. There was no fear in her eyes anymore. Only determination.
“We’re leaving,” she said firmly. “Both of us.”
The man stepped forward, his face dark with rage. “You can’t just—”
“I can. And I am.”
For the first time, his voice faltered. “She’s my daughter.”
“And I am her mother,” Eva said softly but with unshakable strength. “And I will protect her. From you.”
Anna squeezed her mother’s hand as they turned towards the door. Her father’s voice chased after them, threats and curses filling the air, but they did not stop. Step by step, they walked away from the house that had once been their home, away from the pain, the fear, and the suffocating chains of a love that had long since died.
As they stepped outside, the sun kissed their skin, warm and golden. Eva took a deep breath, inhaling freedom for the first time in years. She looked down at her daughter, who gazed up at her with wide, trusting eyes.
“Where are we going, Mommy?”
“Somewhere safe,” Eva whispered, lifting Anna into her arms. “Somewhere we can be happy.”
Anna rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, her tiny fingers wrapping around Eva’s. She didn’t know where they were going, but as long as she was with her mother, she knew one thing for sure.
They were finally free!
Love,
Shweta