Night Love

Chap:-14

Night Love

​By - Eva Talukder

​Chapter 14: The Bitter Feast

​The clock on the wall of the grand dining hall struck eight. The sound echoed through the high ceilings of the villa, feeling more like a funeral bell than a dinner invitation. Arura stood at the top of the stairs, her hand clutching the mahogany railing. She was wearing a deep emerald green silk saree that the maid had brought earlier. It was expensive, the fabric feeling like a second skin, but to her, it felt like a costume she was being forced to wear for a play she never auditioned for. Her hair was left open, falling in dark waves over her shoulders, and her face, though pale, carried a cold, sharp elegance born of suffering.

​Slowly, she began to descend the stairs. Every step felt like she was walking closer to a predator's den. At the foot of the table sat Zayan. He had showered and changed into a crisp white shirt, the top buttons undone, looking deceptively relaxed. But Arura knew better. The way his eyes tracked her every movement as she walked toward the table told her he was anything but relaxed. He was a hunter watching his prize.

​Zayan stood up as she reached the table, a gesture of mock chivalry that made Arura’s stomach churn. He pulled out the chair across from him.

​Zayan: "You look stunning, Arura. Green suits you. It’s the color of envy, but on you, it looks like power."

​Arura: (Sitting down stiffly) "Don't flatter yourself, Zayan. I only wore this because you threatened me. Your compliments mean nothing to me."

​Zayan’s lips quirked into a ghost of a smile as he sat back down. He signaled to the maid, who began serving a lavish spread of food—roasted lamb, saffron rice, and delicate appetizers. The aroma was mouth-watering, but for Arura, the food might as well have been ashes.

​Zayan: "Eat. You haven't touched a proper meal in two days. I don't want my wife looking like a ghost."

​Arura: "Your wife? You love saying that word, don't you? Does it make you feel powerful to know you bought a human being with a signature?"

​Zayan picked up his wine glass, the red liquid swirling like blood in the candlelight. He took a slow sip, his gaze never leaving her face. "I didn't buy you, Arura. I reclaimed what was meant to be mine. Everything in this world has a price, and your mother paid yours the moment she stepped into my father’s life. I am just the one collecting the debt."

​Arura: "And what about my life? What about my dreams? I wanted to study, I wanted to travel, I wanted to marry someone who actually loved me! You’ve taken all of that away just to satisfy a grudge from twelve years ago!"

​Zayan slammed his glass onto the table. The sharp sound made Arura flinch. The mask of calm he was wearing slipped for a second, revealing the raw, jagged anger underneath.

​Zayan: "Dreams? You talk about dreams? Do you know what my dreams were like at twelve? I dreamt of my mother coming back. I dreamt of my brothers. I dreamt of a home where I wasn't looked at like a mistake! But your mother took those dreams and burnt them to the ground. She whispered lies into my father's ears until he looked at me with disgust. So don't talk to me about dreams, Arura. You are living in luxury. I lived in an icy hell for a decade."

​Arura: "So this is it? We just spend the rest of our lives hurting each other? How long can you keep this up, Zayan? Eventually, you’ll get bored of me. Eventually, the revenge won't be enough."

​Zayan leaned forward, the candlelight casting long, flickering shadows across his face. He reached across the table, his fingers grazing the back of her hand. Arura tried to pull away, but he gripped her fingers, forcing her to stay still.

​Zayan: "I’ll never get bored of you, Arura. You are the only thing that makes me feel alive, even if that life is filled with hate. Every time you look at me with those defiant eyes, it reminds me that I won. You are the living proof of my victory."

​Arura: "You haven't won anything. You have a woman who despises you sitting at your table. You have a house filled with silence. You are the loneliest man I’ve ever met, Zayan."

​Zayan’s grip tightened for a moment before he abruptly let go. He stood up, his dinner half-finished. He walked around the table and stood behind her chair. Arura could feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of wood and expensive spice. He leaned down, his lips close to her ear, his voice a low, vibrating growl.

​Zayan: "Eat your dinner, Arura. Tomorrow, we are going back to the main mansion in Sylhet. Nilima and Ayan will be there. You will act like a happy bride. You will smile, you will hold my hand, and you will not say a single word about what happens behind closed doors."

​Arura: "And if I don't? If I tell them the truth?"

​Zayan: "Then Nilima will never be allowed to see you again. And Ayan? Well, I’m sure he wouldn't want his business ventures to fail overnight. I have the power to destroy them just as easily as I can help them. The choice is yours. Play the part, or watch your friends suffer."

​He straightened up and walked toward the door, leaving Arura alone in the vast, cold dining room. She looked at the feast in front of her and felt a wave of nausea. She was trapped in a nightmare where even her friends were being used as weapons against her.

​She looked at her reflection in the dark window. The woman staring back at her looked like Arura, but her eyes were different. They were becoming hard, guarded. She realized that to survive Zayan, she had to become like him. She had to learn how to hide her pain, how to play the game, and how to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

​That night, back in her locked room, Arura didn't cry. She sat on the bed and stared at the gold ring on her finger. It wasn't just a symbol of her capture anymore; it was a reminder of the war she was in. Zayan wanted a broken bride, but she would give him a queen who would eventually bring his empire to its knees.

​As the wind howled outside the villa, Arura made a silent vow. She would play his game. She would wear the sarees, she would attend the parties, and she would smile for his friends. But in the shadows, she would search for the truth. She would find out what really happened twelve years ago, and she would find the weakness in Zayan’s iron heart. Because every king has a fall, and she was going to be the one to push him.