Over the next month, Aryan’s control tightened like a noose around Disha’s life. The days blurred into one continuous haze of submission, pain, pleasure, and aching denial. The small dorm room, once a modest space she shared with occasional friends dropping by, had become her entire universe. The outside world—classes, friendships, family—faded into distant echoes that Aryan carefully filtered and weaponized. Every waking moment was orchestrated by him. Sleep was a privilege granted only when he was satisfied, often interrupted by his sudden urges in the dead of night.