Justice In heaven, she and I, held each other's hands and cried. Then we looked at each other and cried again. We saw a marriage happening on earth, we cried again. She tried to hug and kiss me, we couldn't, she cried again. We cried not for our lost chance for a life together, there was never really a chance rather than me being murdered by her angry relatives for my unintended identity and her living as my widow. We don't cry for this injustice, we cry for another which we never saw coming. She gripped my hands even firmly, and narrated the events of the night we were brutally raped, her sexually and me mentally. I was her only therapist and this narration was her only therapy. The story of the night I left her alone in her apartment. The night I planned to go to my home and wished to inform my parents about our secret, silent relationship that we maintained even after the whole issue at her house and my intention to marry her ignoring the possibilities of my murder....