Willingly Broken

Chapter 2: How It All Began

Lying in the dark beside Murugan, his heavy hand still possessively cupping my breast, I let my mind drift back.

My real name was Monish. Monish Vijayan.

I was orphaned at the age of nine. Both parents died in a car accident. No relatives wanted the responsibility of a quiet, skinny boy. I grew up in a government orphanage in Tambaram, studying under streetlights and eating free midday meals. But I was sharp. Extremely sharp. By 17, I had started a small digital marketing agency from a cyber café with just ₹8,000 borrowed money. Within five years, it became one of the top agencies in Chennai. By 24, I had sold three successful startups. At 25, I retired with more money than I could spend in three lifetimes.

I bought this beautiful villa in Neelankarai, three floors, private beach view, infinity pool, home theatre, four luxury cars (Mercedes, Range Rover, BMW, and an Audi), and a lovely vacation house in Kodaikanal with a beautiful garden and many more. I hired a driver, two maids, and a cook. Life looked perfect from the outside.

But inside… I was bored.

Terribly bored.

There was no challenge left. No hunger. Just endless luxury and silence. I spent most days watching movies, working out, or scrolling through my phone. That’s when my old college friend Ramesh suggested marriage.

“She’s a good girl, Monish. Vinu. Very modern, well educated. Her mother Lata is also nice. They are from a decent family in Anna Nagar. You need someone in your life, da.”

I wasn’t interested. Not even a little. But out of boredom and pressure, I agreed to meet her.

Vinu was beautiful, fair, slim, long hair, sharp features. She smiled sweetly and spoke well during our meetings. Her mother Lata was elegant and respectful. They both acted warm and caring. Within three months, we got married in a grand ceremony at a five star resort in Mahabalipuram.

I transferred a few properties and a decent amount of money in her name as “wedding gifts.” I thought it would make her happy.

It didn’t.

Within weeks of the marriage, I started noticing small things.

Vinu was rarely affectionate. She spent most of her time shopping, partying with friends, or on her phone. Lata moved into our house “temporarily” and never left. They both started treating the servants differently, becoming overly friendly with them.

Murugan, my 40 year old driver, suddenly became very close to them. Sujata, the 33 year old cook, began gossiping with them in the kitchen and laughing loudly. Only Charu, the young 22 year old maid , remained quiet and distant from their group.

I brushed it off in the beginning.

Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’ve been alone for too long.

But the uneasiness grew.

I would often catch them whispering when I entered the room. Sometimes they would suddenly stop talking when I walked into the hall. Murugan started looking at me with a strange, almost mocking smile when he opened the car door. Lata began making indirect comments about “what will happen to all this property if something happens to Monish.”

Still, I told myself I was overthinking.

“I’m a self made man,” I used to think. “I built everything from nothing. These people can’t do anything to me. If anything goes wrong, I can crush them in a day.”

I reassured myself every night.

But deep down, something felt terribly wrong like they had slowly formed a gang inside my own house. Like I was living with four people who were no longer my employees or family… but something more dangerous.

Little did I know that my suspicion was correct.

They were already planning my death.

And the only person who was still truly loyal to me was the quiet young maid, Charu.