"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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Mishti
I was sitting on the edge of the bed pressing the cotton dipped in ointment against Arav's wounds when he hissed in pain. His arm jerked but I held it tighter. He looke at me with frustration but I wasn't even looking at his face. My hands had become so thin, my skin pale like a stray animal that had lost its way. Maybe I really was lost.
"You've lost so much weight, Mishti," Arav muttered with a sigh, taking the piece of paper from the side table. His voice turned serious as he thrust it in front of me. "Look at this. That bastard is getting married."
I froze. I had already seen that newspaper a hundred times this morning. The headline was screaming in bold black letters: *Sultan Emad Khan to be married this month.* It was printed like it was some national celebration. My eyes lingered for a second and then slipped away.
Arav's voice cut through the silence. "He can marry whoever he wants, as many times as he wants. But why is this news everywhere? Like he's some celebrity and not a criminal? Mishti, you should go to the media and tell them. Tell them what that bastard did to you."
I forced a small smile. My lips trembled with the effort. "Arav... he did what he thought was right for him. He took his revenge for his father and brother."
Arav's eyes flashed. His voice rose with anger. "But what was your fault? You suffered for people you didn't even know. And he did kill your parents, right? What was the need to ruin *your* life? Tell me, Mishti!"
I touched his shoulder quickly, my tone soft but firm. "Don't shout, please. Otherwise your wounds will start throbbing again."
Arav fell quiet but the fire in his eyes didn't dim. I stood up slowly and walked towards the bedroom. The walls felt like they were closing in on me. His words echoed in my ears but they weren't the ones hurting me the most. No, the words that haunted me were from someone else.
That night, when I was begging him not to leave me, Sultan had looked at me with the darkness of the whole universe burning in his eyes. His voice was low, cruel, unforgettable.
"You know, Mishti... if I wanted, I could have given you a simple death. A snap of the neck. A bullet through your head. Quick, easy. But I didn't. Because I hate you too much to let it be simple. My hate isn't just for my father or my brother's death. Do you want to know why?"
I had been on my knees, trembling, crying, and yet he had leaned close to me, spitting venom with every word.
"Because of that whore who gave birth to me. The woman I don't even call my mother. She ran away with a man-your father. Yes, Mishti. While you were still in her arms, she chose to be a bed-warmer for him.For him. That's why I hate you more."
I pressed my palms against my face now, trying to block out the memory, but his voice was everywhere, echoing in my blood. My eyes fell on my hands. They looked so empty, so helpless. I wanted to scream, to tear apart the silence. But instead, I sat down on the floor, breathing shallowly, trying to distract my mind, as if anything in the world could erase his words.
