Night Love

Chap:-13

Night Love

​By - Eva Talukder

​Chapter 13: The Golden Cage

​The days in the secluded villa began to blur into one long, agonizing nightmare for Arura. The room Zayan had locked her in was beautiful—it was filled with expensive paintings, velvet curtains, and a bed that felt like a cloud—but to Arura, it was nothing more than a golden cage. The windows offered a view of the lush green hills of Sylhet, but the heavy glass was reinforced. She was a bird with clipped wings, trapped in a paradise built by her captor.

​Every morning, a silent maid would bring her breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The woman never spoke, never looked her in the eye. It was as if Zayan had commanded even the walls to remain silent. Arura would sit by the window for hours, watching the clouds move, wondering if Nilima was looking for her. She missed the sound of laughter. She missed the simple freedom of walking down a street without feeling a pair of dark, predatory eyes watching her every move.

​Zayan didn't visit her during the day. He was busy at the office, handling the 60% of the empire he owned, but he made sure she knew he was there. Every evening, at exactly eight o'clock, the lock on her door would turn.

​On the fourth night, the door opened, and Zayan walked in. He looked tired, his tie loosened and his hair slightly mussed. He looked like a man who had been fighting wars all day, only to return to a different kind of war at night. He sat on the armchair across from the bed, watching Arura as she sat huddled on the floor.

​Zayan: "Why are you sitting on the floor? There is a perfectly comfortable bed right there."

​Arura: (Her voice cold) "I don't want anything that belongs to you. The floor is the only thing that feels real right now."

​Zayan let out a long, frustrated sigh. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Arura, don't be dramatic. You are my wife. Everything I own is yours. Whether you like it or not, this is your life now."

​Arura: "A wife? Is that what you call a woman you forced to sign papers? A woman you violated in the back of a car? You don't want a wife, Zayan. You want a doll that you can punish for your past."

​Zayan’s eyes flashed with a sudden, dangerous spark. He stood up and walked toward her, his shadow towering over her small frame. He knelt down so his face was level with hers.

​Zayan: "If I wanted a doll, I would have bought one. I wanted you. I wanted the daughter of the woman who destroyed me to be the one who heals me. Isn't that poetic, Arura? The poison and the cure, all in one person."

​Arura: "I will never heal you. I will only hate you."

​Zayan: "Then hate me. But do it while wearing the diamonds I bought for you. Do it while eating the food I provided. Your hatred doesn't hurt me anymore, Arura. It fuels me."

​He reached out and grabbed her hand, looking at the gold ring on her finger. He noticed the small scratches on her wrist from where her bangles had broken during their struggle in the car. His expression softened for a micro-second, a ghost of a memory flickering in his eyes—a memory of a 9-year-old girl putting a cold cloth on his forehead. But he quickly suppressed it.

​Zayan: "Nilima called today. She wants to see you."

​Arura’s heart leaped. "What did you tell her? Please, let me see her!"

​Zayan: "I told her you were busy. I told her we were enjoying our... honeymoon."

​Arura: "You liar! You're a disgusting liar!"

​She tried to slap him, but Zayan caught her wrist mid-air. He twisted it slightly, not enough to break it, but enough to make her gasp. He pulled her closer, his face inches from hers.

​Zayan: "Careful, Arura. I told you before, don't test my patience. I allowed Nilima and Ayan to see you at the mansion because I respected our friendship. But this villa is my sanctuary. No one comes here unless I want them to. And right now, I don't want anyone seeing my beautiful, broken bride."

​Arura: "They'll find out, Zayan. You can't keep me hidden forever."

​Zayan: "Watch me. I have enough power to make you disappear from the world's memory. To the world, you are Mrs. Zayan, living a life of luxury. No one will suspect that behind these doors, you are crying yourself to sleep."

​He let go of her hand and stood up, smoothing out his shirt. "I’ve told the maid to bring you a new set of clothes. We are having dinner together tonight. Downstairs. If you don't show up, I’ll come and get you myself. And trust me, you won't like the way I do it."

​He walked out, the sound of the lock clicking back into place echoing in the silent room.

​Arura leaned her head against the wall, her tears finally falling. She felt like she was being erased. Zayan wasn't just taking her freedom; he was rewriting her entire identity. She was becoming a shadow, a ghost haunting a beautiful house.

​But as she looked at the door, a small spark of defiance remained. He could lock her body, he could force her to sit at his table, but he couldn't control her mind. She would wait. She would watch. Every monster has a weakness, and she was determined to find Zayan’s, even if she had to walk through fire to do it.

​Downstairs, Zayan stood in the dining room, staring at the empty chair across from him. He gripped the edge of the table so hard his fingers hurt. He hated himself for wanting her to be there. He hated the way his heart skipped a beat when she looked at him, even if it was with hatred. He was the hunter, and she was the prey—but as the night grew darker, Zayan realized he was just as trapped in this cage as she was.