Love Theoretically by Ali Hazelwood

She didn't know neither did she remember how long it had been but she was sure it had been a long time. A long time since she had been dying, every day and every night. Now it was like a normal to her, different men coming and using her as a toy to quench their sexual desires.

Every night her uncle would introduce her to a new customer and she would just sigh, waiting for this pain to end. Just like right now, the man who was thrusting inside her, wildly was a new customer who came for her today.

She didn't know when her life would take a turn? when her life would get better? She didn't know even she would be able to make out of this hell hole.

She didn't know anything.

Would someone ever marry her and take her out of this brothel?

Marriage? Really? And me?

She scoffed at her thoughts, who would like to marry a used girl, who would want to marry a prostitute?

Was she really this unworthy that no one would want to marry her?

She couldn't understand the standard of society.

One virginal wall is supposed to decide everything? Everything of a girl's life? About her character? No matter how much her pure is her soul?

If you're not a virgin without marriage, does it mean you don't deserve to be honored?

You deserve no respect?

She always thought that why people neglect every other attribute when it comes to girl making the standard only the beauty and virginity.

Every day a part of her soul would die. She was dying slowly. She never wished for this life, she never wanted it.

She never wanted to be a prostitute.

People would more often call her a prostitute than her name. It was breaking her heart day by day.

She could just wish her fate was in her hand. But it was not.

All the things happened which she never wanted to happen.

The night shift at last ended and the man got off of her after quenching all his desires on her.

"You're a good slut," he said as if complimenting and wore his clothes leaving the room. While she just laid on the bed, her eyes which were emotionless kept on staring at the ceiling.

Her body wasn't in pain, it had got used to it.

The pain was the emotional pain. The pain which no can see and feel but she and her dear mother, Dilshad.

As it is said, trust the one who can feel the pain behind your happiness. She always put up a pretense of being happy and content infront of her mother but her mother would always know it.

She was living happily in her beautiful country, Iran until one day her father, Aahil became a drug addict and started gambling. Soon, he ran short of money and sold his daughter to his brother, Sufyan. Roshanay's mother, Dilshad insisted him not to do this but he didn't pay a heed. After some days Aahil died and Roshanay was forced to go with her uncle and she took her mother along with her too. Her uncle lived in Pakistan, KPK so they both have to leave their country.

Her uncle, Sufyan was a vile man who had a kotha in which he had employed women as prostitutes and he made Roshanay one too. Roshanay resisted him but she needed money and a shelter on her head, on the top of that her uncle blackmailed her so she had to agree. She had nowhere to go.

She had lost the track of time since she had been living in this haveli and forced into prostitution.

But whoever came for her took a part of her soul with him.

On cue the door knocked and her trance broke. She hurriedly wore her clothes and opened the door to find Yasir their.

Yasir was the nicest person in the brothel and a very dear friend of her. He was a kind of receptionist who had the details of all the customers and which prostitute did they choose to spend night with.

"Yes?" she asked politely.

"Mr. Sufyan is calling you" he replied, his eyes shining with sympathy for the poor girl.

"Okay," she smiled, trying to depict that she is not bothered about anything. She's content.

On reaching her uncle's room, she knocked before entering and saw her aunt sitting beside him.

Her aunt, Humdah was a wicked lady just like her husband. They both suited each other.

There was no day when she would not listen to the snarky remarks of her aunt mocking her and her mother on misery, comparing Roshanay with her daughters and reminding her that she's just a prostitute.

"You called me?" she asked.

"Yes, Roshanay" her uncle, Sufyan said, "its your pay time, you've been a very good-" before he could complete his sentence, Hamdah cut in.

"Slut," she said with a smirk only to mock her.

"Yes a very good slut, so as a bonus I decided to give you a bonus of five thousand rupees," he said to which she gave no response and he forwarded the bundle of note to her.

She moved towards him and as she was about to take the money, Hamdah suddenly took the bundle from his hand and threw it on the floor.

"That's how we pay the whores, you can take it from the floor," she spated and they both gave a mockery laugh.

She took in a deep breath.

Patience

She told herself and bent down to pick the bundle while the couple laughed at her. They were jealous of her, there jealousy was the reason behind their action.