THE VILLAGE GIRL HE REJECTED

The rain had not stopped for three days in Kalabur Village, and Amina knew what that meant. Disaster. She stood at the cracked wooden window of their tiny mud hut, watching the grey sky pour water onto the rice fields. Her old cotton dress — faded blue, two sizes too big — clung to her thin frame. At 21, Amina was too beautiful for a poor village girl. Long, thick black hair that fell to her waist, eyes so big and innocent that even the village women whispered about her, skin that glowed despite no creams or lotions. But in Kalabur, beauty did not bring money. It only brought trouble. "Amina!" A weak, coughing voice called from behind. "The landlord's car... I saw it from the bed..." Amina turned. Her mother, Lila, lay on the single bed, her face pale and sweaty from fever. She had been sick for months, and they had no money for the city hospital. Her father had died last year, leaving them only debt. Debt to him. Ethan Black. Amina's stomach twisted. Everyone in the district knew the name Ethan Black. 28 years old, heir to the Black Empire — hotels, companies, banks. A billionaire who never smiled. They said his heart was made of ice after his own fiancee cheated on him with his brother for money. They said he hated poor girls who dreamed of marrying rich. They said he was cruel. And he owned their land now. Her father had borrowed 2 million rupees from Black Corporation to save the farm. Now they could not pay. Outside, a black Rolls Royce Cullinan stopped in the mud, completely out of place. The driver opened an umbrella and a tall man stepped out. Amina's breath stopped. Ethan Black was even more handsome in real life. Over six feet tall, black suit perfectly ironed despite the rain, hair slightly wet, jaw sharp like a knife. But his eyes — his eyes were cold, empty, angry at the world. He walked into their hut without knocking. Rain dripped from his coat onto their dirt floor. "Mrs. Lila," he said, his voice deep and cold, with a city accent. "My patience is over. Two million. Today. Or tomorrow my bulldozers will come and this hut will be gone." Lila started crying. "Mr. Black, please... my husband... we have nothing... my daughter..." Ethan didn't look at Lila. He looked at Amina. His gaze traveled slowly from her wet hair, to her terrified eyes, to her lips, to her thin dress that had become almost transparent from the rain. Amina quickly crossed her arms over her chest, shame burning her face. "You," Ethan said. "You are Amina?" Amina nodded, unable to speak. His eyes made her legs weak. "Your father told me you were 18 when he borrowed. Now you are 21. Still here. In this village. Wasting." "We have nowhere to go, sir," she whispered. Ethan stepped closer. He smelled like expensive cologne and rain. "Everything has a price, village girl. Your father understood that. Do you?" Lila coughed violently. "Amina... go... bring water..." Amina ran to the back, but Ethan followed her to the small kitchen area. "Please sir, don't take our house, my mother will die," she begged, tears now mixing with rain on her face. Ethan stared at her crying face. For a second, something flickered in his cold eyes — not kindness, but something darker. Desire. He had been surrounded by city models who threw themselves at him, fake lips, fake love. But this girl, crying, pure, trembling... she was real. "Come to my car," he said abruptly. "We will talk properly. Not in front of your sick mother." Amina hesitated. The rain was getting heavier, thunder cracking loud. The village electricity went off with a pop — total darkness except for the lightning. "Please," Ethan said, and his voice was lower now. "I won't hurt you." She didn't know why, but she followed him. The driver had gone to the village shop, leaving the big car alone in the rain. Inside the backseat, it was warm, leather smelling, silent except for the rain hammering the roof. Amina sat at the far edge, shivering. Ethan got in, closed the door, and locked it. The click of the lock made Amina's heart race. "Sir... why did you lock?" He didn't answer. He just looked at her, his eyes now black in the dark car. "You want to save your mother?" he asked. "Yes!" "You want to keep your land?" "Yes, sir!" "Then you have to give me something valuable. Because you have no money." Amina understood. Her face went white. "Sir... I... I am not that kind of girl... I never... I saved myself for marriage..." "I know," Ethan whispered, leaning closer. "That's why I want you." Thunder roared right above them. Lightning lit the car — her terrified face, his hungry face. "I hate gold diggers," he said, his breath on her neck. "City girls who want my money. Are you a gold digger, Amina?" "No! No sir!" "Prove it." Before she could answer, his lips crushed hers. Hard, angry, desperate. Amina gasped, trying to push his chest — he was like a wall. His hand held the back of her head, not letting her go. She had never been kissed. She didn't know kissing could feel like this — like fire and storm at the same time. "Stop... please..." she cried against his lips, but her body was betraying her. His other hand slid to her waist, pulling her thin dress up slightly. The rain was so loud no one could hear them. The village was dark. Her mother was sick inside. "Say yes," Ethan growled, his eyes wild now, the cold billionaire mask broken. "Say yes and your debt is gone. Your mother will get the best hospital in the city. I will pay. Just say yes for one night." Amina was crying, shaking. She thought of her mother dying. She thought of being homeless in the rain. And she whispered, "Yes... but please... be gentle..." That was all Ethan needed. The storm outside was nothing compared to the storm inside that car. He was not gentle at first — he was a man who had been hurt and wanted to forget. But when he heard her small cry of pain, when he realized she was truly innocent, truly pure, his whole body froze. "You... you were a virgin?" he whispered in shock. Amina couldn't answer, tears running down. For a second, guilt flashed in his eyes. Then possessiveness took over. He kissed her tears, slower this time, whispering "I'm sorry" over and over while the rain washed the village. That night, Amina lost everything she had saved for 21 years to a man who thought she was just a poor village girl who wanted money. Morning came grey and silent. The rain had stopped. Amina woke up alone in the huge backseat, covered with Ethan's expensive black coat. Her dress was torn. Her body ached in places she didn't know could ache. On the leather seat next to her was a cheque — 2,000,000 rupees — and a small white paper. She picked it up with shaking hands. Four words, written in cold, sharp handwriting: "You got what you wanted, gold digger." Amina's heart shattered. She was not a gold digger. She was just a girl who loved her mother. She got out of the car, her legs shaking, and walked back to her hut. The Rolls Royce was gone, leaving only tyre marks in the mud. One month later, in the small village clinic, the old nurse looked at her test and said, "Amina, you are pregnant." And on the same day, on the broken TV in the village tea shop, Amina saw the news: "Billionaire Ethan Black engaged to Supermodel Sophia Lee!" Amina placed her hand on her still-flat stomach and whispered to the baby that didn't know its father hated its mother: "Don't worry. Mama will protect you."