He's always looking at me, eating me with his eyes, but no one sees this or prefers not to notice. In my husband's house, I am not a daughter-in-law, but a freeloader imposed by the elders, under the same roof with which my husband did not spend a single night, preferring to leave for the capital. Away from me and from a forced marriage concluded in the name of maintaining peace between families that have exterminated each other for three generations because of a blood feud.

And only he, my husband's uncle, not only endures, but madly longs for my company. His intentions are vicious and his thoughts are dirty. He's almost stopped resisting his sin, and I'm scared to death of him. Because one look of his expresses more than a thousand words.