My father had once invited a Chinese merchant into our home and told me to wear my most beautiful gown.
At the time, I thought it was simply a courtesy. A daughter showing respect. A moment to bring honor to my family.
But now, I realize, that was the first sign I was being sold.
Or perhaps the betrayal began even earlier, when my mother whispered that marriage should be about love, not politics, her voice trembling as though the walls might hear her.
To understand how I ended up here, betrayed and betrothed, you must return with me to my homeland.
To Bharat.
---
It was midnight when I awoke to a strange, uneven swaying beneath me. Not the shift of soft bedding on a cot, nor the creak of my homes wooden floor.
This was different. Foreign. The air was damp, laced with salt, and the faint lanterns overhead swung with each lurch of the floor.
I blinked, my head thick with fog, trying to breathe past the pungent stench of fish and tar. My fingers touched coarse fabric beneath me, not the familiar mattresses I slept on every night. My heart pounded as reality crashed over me like a wave.
I was not in my bed.
I was not even in my home.
I was on a ship.
How I came to be here, I didn't know. My memories blurred at the edges, my father's proud smile, the merchant's sharp eyes, the clink of wine cups—and then blackness.
Through a narrow, barred window, I could see the night sky stretched endlessly across the horizon. The moon shone pale and lonely,coloring the night sky a shade of indigo.
As a child, I had always looked to the moon when I woke in the middle of the night.
But tonight, the moon was not my companion.
It was my witness.
---
The door creaked open.
The Chinese man who had studied me so intently at my father's house stepped inside, his face half in shadow. His eyes were sharp as knives, his lips curled in disdain.
"We are almost there," he said in my language, his tone cold and absolute. He tossed a bundle of silken garments onto the mattress. "Put these on. We are to be wed once we reach China."
China.
That was where we were going.
Far from my home. Far from my mother's warnings, far from the streets of Bharat, far from the girl I had been only a night ago.
My chest tightened, panic clawing at my throat like a noose. My body trembled. My lips parted, but no sound came out. The man left.
No.
I cannot let this happen.
I will not let this happen.
To be married off had always been my worst fear. To be bartered like an animal, to have my fate decided by the flick of my father's hand, I had always expected that this would happen.
But to be kidnapped and dragged across the sea for it? That was a nightmare beyond imagining.
My heart thudded louder with every second, matching the rhythm of the ship's groaning engine. I needed to think. To plan.
The clothes he had thrown at me were extravagant, silks embroidered with gold threads, the kind of outfit designed to draw every eye in a room.
If I wore them, I would stand out, easy to track, easy to see.
No. I needed something else. Something ordinary. Something that would let me vanish.
The door opened again.
A servant entered, carrying a jug of water and a tray of food. He was young, perhaps only a few years older than me. His shoulders slumped under the weight of his work.
Someone with no power, just like me from now on.
And yet, he was my chance.
Few women worked aboard ships, even without the extravagant clothes I would be caught.
But if I took his clothes, if I could mimic him, maybe—just maybe—I could escape unnoticed.
My breath came fast and shallow. My palms sweated. My body screamed at me not to do it, but desperation drowned out fear.
When he bent to arrange the food, I acted.
I slipped behind him and wrapped a strip of my saree tightly around his neck. His body jerked in surprise, his tray clattering to the floor. My arms trembled as I pulled, whispering frantic apologies in my head. I didn't want to kill him. I only needed to make him unconscious.
After what felt like an eternity, his struggles weakened, then ceased. I lowered him gently to the floor, my own breath ragged. I felt guilt.
I undressed him quickly, pulling on his rough cotton garments. They smelled of sweat and brine, but they were plain. Forgettable. Perfect.
I laid him on the mattress, draped the blanket over him, and turned his face to the wall. From a glance, it would look as though I were still lying there.
But the disguise needed more.
If I kept my face bare, I'd be recognized instantly. So I tore a strip of cloth and wrapped it across my mouth and nose, leaving only my eyes visible. Then, I forced myself to cough, harsh and deliberate. If I showed sickness, no one would want to get close enough to question me.
The horizon was showing the time, dawn. My window of time was narrowing.
I slipped out of the chamber and into the corridor, my steps unsteady but determined.
---
Above deck, the morning air hit me like a slap, sharp with salt, heavy with the cries of gulls. The shoreline was close now, close enough that I could make out trees swaying in the distance.
Almost there. Almost free.
But fate, it seemed, was not yet finished testing me.
He was there.
The man who had dragged me into this nightmare. The Chinese merchant who had stolen me from my father's house.
"You useless scum!" he barked, his voice like a whip. "What are you doing up here? Get below and clean before I throw you overboard to rot with the rats!"
His words sliced into me, but I did not falter. My pulse thundered in my ears.
"Master," I croaked, muffling my voice as much as I could, "I am ill. I don't wish to infect the rest of the crew."
Then I coughed again, louder this time, doubling over as if the sickness ate at my lungs.
He narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering in the dark depths. The silence stretched, long and suffocating. My entire body tensed, ready to flee, ready to die.
But then, with a grunt of disgust, he waved me off.
"Filthy wretch. Stay out of my sight. Don't even come back. You'll make me sick."
Relief flooded me so hard I nearly stumbled.
I walked down the gangplank and stepped onto solid ground. For a moment—I felt free. Free from the cage they had built around me.
But freedom is a cruel illusion.
Because the land I had stepped into was not here to save me.
It was only another prison, waiting patiently for me to fall into its trap.
The land called China.
And the second cage of my story.