"Why are you trembling, my dear?" he sneered. "Aren't you a whore? Seduce me then......"
Mishti's voice shook as she tried to protest. "Please, Sultanji, you're not in your right mind. You're heavily intoxicated. Stay away from me!"
Sultan's express...
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She has the innocence reeking from her that makes me feel like a man. ---Sultan
______________________________________
Rokeya Begum strode down the hall, her footsteps echoing with purpose.
She had to speak to her brother Arafat about the latest scandal to rock their family.
Reaching his door, she took a deep breath and pushed it open without knocking.
Arafat Zafrani sat calmly with his wife Rosenara, sipping tea.
He looked up as Rokeya burst in, her face flushed with emotion.
"Bhaijaan, you must have heard by now," Rokeya spat, skipping any greeting. "Bhabijaan didn't tell you? That girl, Mishti, she was a bar dancer!"
Arafat raised a hand, cutting off his sister's tirade. "Isn't she the girl Sultan has been searching for these seven years?" he asked evenly.
Rokeya blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Well, yes, but a bar dancer, Bhaijaan! How could Sultan bring such a woman into our respectable household as a daughter-in-law?"
Arafat nodded slowly. "I remember how devastated Sultan was when she disappeared all those years ago. He was never the same - depressed, addicted to drugs. We had to have him admitted to the hospital, remember?"
Rosenara reached over to squeeze her husband's hand. "Perhaps this girl is not as simple as she seems. Sultan loved her deeply enough to never give up searching. We should keep an open mind."
Rokeya scoffed. "Open mind? How can you say that, Bhabijaan? She's a bar dancer! Our family's reputation will be ruined!She will definitely turn our house into a bar."
Arafat held up a hand again. "Rokeya, you know as well as I do that Sultan's happiness is what matters most. If this woman truly makes him whole again, then we must welcome her, no matter her past."
#Flashback#
Arafat Zafrani arrived at the modest home of Mishti, dressed in an impeccable suit and shiny boots.
His presence was as imposing as his wealth, and Anjan Babu, Mishti's father, was taken aback by the sudden appearance of such a distinguished-looking visitor.
"Good evening, sir," Anjan Babu greeted, his brow furrowed in confusion. "May I ask who you are and what brings you to our humble abode?"
Before Arafat could respond, a figure emerged from behind him.
It was Sultan.
Mishti's eyes widened in fear as she saw him, and she instinctively moved closer to her father, seeking his protection.
