"You walked into the lion's den, sweetheart," he whispered, stepping closer. "And lions don't let go so easily."
He looked down at her leg, at her trembling hands, and the fear in her eyes.
"A beautiful young girl like you," he chuckled, "shouldn't...
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"I love you, Sultan."
Her voice was barely a whisper, but it hit me like a slap. I blinked. Hard.
Amara stood there, eyes shimmering with emotions I didn't ask for, lips trembling as if they'd betray her again with another confession.
I scrunched my brows. "You didn't mean that... right?"
She licked her lips slowly, her gaze locked on mine like she was trying to read something in my soul that didn't exist. "I couldn't help it, Sultan. I really couldn't."
Disappointment washed over me like cold water. I rolled my eyes, dragging my body off the bed, pulling on my pants like this conversation was just another mess I had to clean up. I grabbed the whiskey bottle from the side table, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swig. The burn felt better than her words.
She followed me, still tangled in the bedsheet, like that thin fabric could protect her from the war she just started.
"Please, Sultan," her voice cracked, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I really, really love you. I don't want to be just another girl to you..."
I turned to her slowly, voice cold as steel. "Amara, the first time we met, I told you. This was about pleasure. Lust. That's it. And you agreed."
"But Sultan-" she tried, choking on her words.
"Don't," I snapped. "Don't start playing the victim now. You knew the deal. Don't pull the manipulative act."
"We're more than that..." she whispered, broken.
"We're fuck buddies, Amara," I said bluntly, watching her flinch at the truth. "That's all we've ever been."
"Why can't you love me?!" she suddenly shouted, her voice breaking with rage and pain. "What's so wrong with me?! Why can't I be the one you care about?!"
"It's not you," I said, my tone heavy but honest. "It's everyone. I don't love. I can't love. It's a weakness I can't afford. My strength is in being alone. If I fall in love, I lose my edge. My control. My power.Just like my abbu,my bhaijaan."
She stepped closer, her voice shaking. "But I was there for you, always. Every time you needed someone... it was me."
"And you never tried to change me," I shot back. "You never told me to stop smoking, or drinking, or even killing. You just kept giving me your body like it was the only thing you had. You thought that would tie me to you. But it doesn't."
Her eyes burned with fury now. "Then stop coming to me. I'm not your bitch, Sultan. I won't keep spreading my legs for you."
I let out a dark, bitter laugh. "It wasn't free. You had the luxuries, the mansion, the cars, the money. You got paid, Amara. Don't pretend you were some saint. Weren't you assigned to me as a comfort woman by the organization?"
