The room was filled with an eerie silence, broken only by the faintest of sounds. In the middle of the room sat a young woman, her head bent between her thighs. She appeared to be in a state of distress, her hands and feet bound in metal chains. The room itself did not resemble a typical prison or torture chamber, lacking the usual signs of such places.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, devoid of any noise or disturbance. It was a spacious area, approximately 30 square meters in size. A traditional iron bed, known locally as “Mahadi ka tura,” occupied one corner. There was also a wooden table and chair, as well as long curtains that covered the windows and entrance, allowing in muted light.

The girl had remained in her seated position for a long time, giving the impression that she might have fainted or even died. Her hair draped over her body, obscuring her face. It was difficult to ascertain her age, whether she was a girl, a young woman, a virgin, a married woman, or a widow.


A young man entered the room with a calm and deliberate pace. His gaze remained lowered as he walked, giving him an air of perfection and composure. Although he appeared to be around 24 years old, his well-built physique and deliberate movements made him seem older. He wore a sleeveless hooded outfit that revealed his strength and maturity.

As he entered the room, he continued to look down, only occasionally glancing around. He moved with a sense of purpose, never once attempting to turn back. He pulled the hood over his head, concealing his face. He approached the woman who sat there and reached out to place his hand on her shoulder.

With a trembling voice and a worried expression, he spoke her name, “LOLLY…! Excuse me, and please tell me now.”

Silence hung in the room, but he continued, his voice filled with pity, “Please, Lolly, you have to look at me. I’m getting older. Why won’t you let me know? Why?”

Once again, she remained silent, offering no response to his plea. Frustration welled up within him, and he implored her with a voice on the verge of tears, “Please, Lolly…! You know I’ve been asking you about my father, who he is, where I can find him. But you always remain silent. I know you understand what I mean, and you know I need to hear it from you. Why won’t you tell me? Do you want me to keep living with the uncertainty of not knowing my true origin? I want to know who my father is, to find him, to embrace him. For the first time, I felt like one of the fortunate children, and I would be proud of it. Every day, knowing who my father is, I would be happy.”

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. His eyes, closed at first, now revealed worry on his handsome face. His medium-light, straight eyes, pointed nose, dim beard, and small, rounded mouth conveyed a sense of deep concern. Still, the woman remained unresponsive, offering no hint of a smile or acknowledgment. Frustration and anger simmered within him as he implored her once more, “It’s okay, Lolly! It’s okay! If you don’t want to tell me, I promise, from this day forward, I won’t ask you again. Ever.”

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