Yours Ryan [Original Edition]

Chapter 27: Andrew to sleep with Mumtaz

"Tada!" Zain rolled his eyes, glancing at the room with a mixture of scepticism and curiosity as Tanya's excitement filled the air.

"How's my surprise? Beautiful, right?" Tanya's voice was hopeful, her hands clapping together in anticipation.

Zain's gaze wandered around the transformed room, taking in the white curtains, the walls adorned with Chotta Bheem and Tom and Jerry prints, the new study table, and the array of study books, sketchbooks, and color pencils—it was a vibrant transformation.

"All this hard work was for you. For your happiness," Tanya's smile was warm, genuine.

Zain's heart swelled with happiness, touched by the gesture. Yet, a familiar fear lurked in the corners of his mind, a reminder that happiness was fleeting. His smile faltered, replaced by a solemn expression.

Tanya's brow furrowed at his sudden change.

"Didn't you like the surprise?" she wondered, concern evident in her voice.

But he was happy at first, right?

Her worry deepened as Zain settled into his usual spot with his sketchbook and crayons. She moved to the window, silently observing him, her mind racing.

"I can't leave him like this."

And with that thought, the room was filled with Tanya's feigned cries.

"Nobody likes me... uwahhhh..." Zain's wide-eyed gaze met hers, and Tanya peeked through her fingers, a sense of satisfaction washing over her at his reaction.

"Everyone hates me... uwahhhh... uwahhhhh..." Her faux sobs tugged at his heartstrings.

Setting his books aside, Zain approached her, standing in front of her. Tanya continued her act, shoulders shaking, sobs echoing in the room. Zain gently removed her hands from her face, his touch soft and comforting.

"Don't cry. Wipe your tears," Zain gestured, his actions speaking louder than words. Tanya managed a small smile, a pang of guilt tugging at her heart.

"Will you be my friend?" she asked, and Zain's gaze fell to the ground.

With a sigh, she continued, "Zain, I'm not like your previous teachers." His muffled giggle brought a smile to her lips.

"I want to be your friend, Zain. I want to play with you, eat ice cream with you, do naughty things with you..." His surprise was evident.

"You really want me to be your friend?" Zain's hesitance was palpable.

"Yes, yes..." Tanya nodded fervently.

But his next question caught her off guard. "You won't hurt me, right?"

Tanya stared at him, incredulous.

"Why would I hurt you, Zain?" she replied softly, but his silence spoke volumes.

He's been through so much...

But who could have treated him that way? His parents... No, that couldn't be.

With determination, Tanya lifted his chin, meeting his gaze.

"I won't hurt you, Zain. But I'll do everything to make you happy," she vowed. His smile through tears warmed her heart.

As he gestured for her to lean in, she obliged, and his kiss on her cheek left her stunned.

Her heart soared with hope.

"Shall we go to the garden?" Zain's excitement was contagious. Tanya took his hand, and together, they ventured out of the room.

Mumtaz Khan found herself locked in her room, a prisoner of her own husband, Zafar Khan. She stood before the mirror, adorned in a pink saree gifted by her husband—the same man who had never shown her kindness before.

"I look like a slut," she hissed, her eyes filled with self-loathing as she observed her reflection.

"What will my son think of me? Oh, Allah!" Her heart ached with despair.

Her anguish was interrupted by Zafar's arrival, his lustful gaze sending shivers down her spine.

"You look spicy," he leered, his words dripping with desire. Mumtaz clenched her jaw, a silent protest against his cruelty.

"Now, my guest will be satisfied," he declared, his arrogance evident.

"You're selling your wife, Mr. Khan," she retorted, her voice laced with defiance.

He approached her, his grip on her jaw tight and unforgiving. "Yes, a good-for-nothing wife," he spat, his words a cruel reminder of her worth in his eyes.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears as he pushed her onto the bed, the saree slipping from her shoulder, baring her cleavage.

"This pose will serve you well with him," he smirked, his words a venomous taunt.

Her desperation grew as she begged for mercy, her hands clasped together in a futile attempt to appeal to his humanity.

"You will comply, or forget about your son," his threat hung heavy in the air, crushing her spirit.

The intrusion of his PA's call momentarily broke the tension, but his parting words left her trembling with fear.

"Your special man awaits, dear wife," he sneered before departing, leaving her to face her worst nightmare alone.

"Welcome home, Mustafizur," Zafar greeted Andrew with false warmth, masking the tension between them.

"Thank you, brother," Andrew replied, his tone cordial yet tinged with resentment.

As they parted from their embrace, Zafar's gaze lingered on Andrew's changed appearance—the Salwar Kameez and turban a stark departure from his usual attire.

"You look different," Zafar observed, his curiosity piqued.

"Change is inevitable, necessary even, to achieve our goals," Andrew's cryptic response elicited a frown from Zafar.

"Leave that. Where's my gift?" Zafar's demand cut through the tension, his impatience evident.

"I'll call her... Mumtaz," Zafar called out, the sound of anklets signalling her approach.

Andrew's gaze followed her descent down the stairs, his eyes lingering on her with undisguised hunger. Zafar noticed his brother's fixation, a mix of satisfaction and indignation bubbling within him.

"I told you to sway your hips," he whispered harshly to Mumtaz, his words a reminder of her role in their twisted game.

As Andrew voiced his admiration for Mumtaz's beauty, Zafar's pride swelled, yet his anger simmered beneath the surface at the sight of her compliance.

"She's indeed a sight to behold," Zafar agreed, his gaze shifting to his wife with a mixture of possessiveness and contempt.

"Take him to the room and do as he says," Zafar commanded, his authority unquestioned.

Mumtaz's trembling form betrayed her fear as she led Andrew away, her steps faltering under the weight of her husband's expectations.

As they disappeared from view, Zafar exhaled a triumphant sigh, his victory tinged with bitterness.