Chap:-19
1047 Words
Night Love
By - Eva Talukder
Chapter 19: The Confrontation
The morning sun over Sylhet was bright, but it couldn't wash away the shadows inside the mansion. Zayan had slept for nearly twelve hours, and when he finally woke up, he was different. The sharp, jagged edges of his anger had been blunted by the grief he had left behind in France. He was quiet, almost ghost-like, moving through the house without the usual heavy footsteps that signaled his arrival.
Arura was in the garden, tending to some wilting roses, when her phone buzzed. It was a number she had blocked weeks ago—her mother’s. But today, the calls were persistent. Finally, Arura answered, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and newfound anger.
Arura’s Mother: "Arura! Thank God you picked up. I’ve been hearing horrible rumors about Suravi Devi’s death and Zayan being in France. You need to come home right now. I’ve arranged for the police and a lawyer to get you out of that madman’s house."
Arura looked back at the mansion, where she could see Zayan standing by the window of his study, watching her. He didn't look like a madman anymore; he looked like a man who had been hollowed out by the people he was supposed to trust.
Arura: "Rumors, Mother? Or are you afraid the truth is finally coming out? I know everything. I know about Zayan’s father. I know about the blackmail. I know why Suravi Devi had to die in a foreign land."
There was a sharp silence on the other end of the line. Then, her mother’s voice turned cold, the facade of a caring parent slipping away.
Arura’s Mother: "Listen to me, Arura. Whatever Zayan told you is a lie. He is a predator. He kidnapped you to get back at me. Don't let his sob stories manipulate you. Come home before he destroys you like he destroyed his own life."
Arura: "He didn't destroy his life, Mother. You and his father did. You used a woman’s pain to build your status. I’m not coming home. I’m staying here. Not as a prisoner, but because I’m the only person left who can tell Zayan that not everyone in his life is a liar."
Arura hung up before her mother could respond. She felt a strange sense of liberation. For the first time in her life, she wasn't the "good daughter" who followed orders. She was a woman making her own choices.
She walked back into the house and found Zayan in the foyer. He had overheard the conversation. He was leaning against the marble pillar, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
Zayan: "You shouldn't have done that. Your mother is powerful. She will make things difficult for you."
Arura: "She already made things difficult, Zayan. She stole twelve years of your life. She stole a mother from her son. Whatever she does to me now won't be half as bad as what she did to Suravi Devi."
Zayan stepped closer to her. He reached out, his hand hovering near her face before he pulled it back, as if he still wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch her with kindness.
Zayan: "Why are you doing this, Arura? After everything I did to you... why are you defending me?"
Arura: "Because I saw you in France, Zayan. I saw the man who mourned in the shadows so I wouldn't be bothered by the media. You protected me when you had every reason to throw me to the wolves. I realized that the 'Obudro Pohori' isn't a monster. He’s a guardian who forgot what he was guarding."
Zayan let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for years. He took her hand, his fingers interlacing with hers. The gold ring on her finger caught the sunlight, glowing brightly.
Zayan: "I have a lot to make up for. I can't erase the night in the Mercedes, or the months I kept you locked away. But I want to try. I want to show you the side of me that my mother loved, before the world turned me into this."
Arura: "Then start by being honest with me. No more secrets. No more shadows."
Zayan nodded. He led her to the dining hall, where a lavish breakfast had been prepared—not by the servants, but by Zayan himself. It was a small gesture, but to Arura, it meant everything. They sat together, talking not about revenge or business, but about simple things—the movies Suravi Devi loved, the songs she used to sing, and the dreams Arura had before she was caught in this web.
But the peace was short-lived. Ayan rushed into the room, his face pale, holding a tablet.
Ayan: "Zayan, we have a problem. Your mother’s will was read in France this morning. She left everything to you—the estate in Paris, the royalties from her films, and the secret documents she kept about the business. But there’s a condition. To inherit it, you have to prove that your marriage to Arura is 'genuine' and 'happy' in front of a court-appointed trustee. And guess who the trustee’s primary witness is? Arura’s mother."
Zayan’s grip on his coffee cup tightened until his knuckles turned white. The war wasn't over. Arura’s mother was using the law to try and tear them apart, hoping to get her hands on the Suravi Devi estate.
Zayan: "She never stops, does she? She wants the money even after my mother is in the grave."
Arura: "Let her try, Zayan. She thinks she can prove our marriage is a sham because of how it started. But she doesn't know that things have changed. She doesn't know that I’m not her puppet anymore."
Zayan looked at Arura, a glimmer of hope and genuine admiration in his eyes. "You would lie for me in court? You would tell them we are happy?"
Arura smiled, a sad but beautiful smile. "It wouldn't be a lie anymore, Zayan. We aren't there yet, but for the first time... I think we could be.".
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