My name is Aarohi Sharma, and I am 24 years old.
Since childhood, I have lived with my stepmother, a cold and pragmatic woman. For years, she repeated a single lesson to me, over and over:
“Daughter, never marry a poor man.”
“You don’t need love; what you need is a quiet and secure life.”
At the time, I thought it was just the advice of a woman who had suffered too much in life.
Until the day she forced me to marry a disabled man.
