𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗢𝗪𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗬 𝗛𝗜𝗠
In the dark corners of the red-light district, Zoya's life is a constant struggle. Born to a prostitute and raised in a world where bodies are bought and sold, Zoya dreams of breaking fre...
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Fahad stood at the edge of the red-light district, the seedy atmosphere contrasting starkly with his immaculate appearance. He was here to see her, his butterfly. Zoya. He had watched from afar for too long, and now he was ready to reclaim what he believed was his.
The neon lights flickered, casting a sickly glow on the dilapidated buildings and the women who loitered on the streets. His eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of her. He knew she had grown up here, but he wanted to see for himself how much she had changed. How much she had grown.
He walked with purpose, his cold expression keeping the curious onlookers at bay. He spotted a woman sitting on a throne-like chair, clearly the matriarch of this place. People around her referred to her as "Masi." He approached her, his eyes locked on hers, making her stand up with a welcoming, yet wary, smile.
"Sir, welcome. We have many varieties here," she said, her voice oozing with a practiced charm.
He ignored her offer, his voice cold and demanding. "Where will I find her?"
Masi frowned, confusion marring her features. "Sorry, who?"
He looked at her with an intensity that made her shiver. "Zoya."
Masi's eyes widened in recognition. "Sir, she doesn't work here. We have more beautiful girls—"
"Bas wohi chahiye." (Only she will do.) His tone left no room for argument. "Where is she now?"
Masi gulped, realizing she had no choice but to comply. She guided him to a small, rundown house at the far end of the district. It was in a deplorable condition, a stark reminder of the hardships Zoya had endured.
As he was about to enter, the door opened, and a woman stepped out, frowning at the sight of a grown man standing there. It was Zoya's mother, Zarah. It wasn't her work time, so she was surprised and suspicious of this visitor.
"He came for Zoya," Masi said quietly.
Zarah's eyes widened, fear evident in them. "Zoya is not to be used, Mr."
Fahad's eyes softened as he looked at her, recognizing the woman who had been kind to him so many years ago. "I'm Fahad, Zarah."
Zarah's eyes widened further, and tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks. Memories flooded back, and Fahad was drawn into a flashback.
He remembered being ten years old, and Zarah worked as a maid in his father's mansion. She was pregnant at the time and often brought him good food. He had asked her once, "What's inside your stomach?"
Zarah had smiled and said, "A beautiful butterfly lives there. She will come out in a few months."
He had been so excited, placing a kiss on her swollen belly and declaring, "Then only I will play with her."
