Hasrat

Hasrat 1

(Nafas)

I park the car and step out.

My nerves are a mess as I stare at the mansion’s front entrance. Mr. Ali walks over to me.

“Miss, aren’t you parking the car inside?”

I shake my head.

“No, Mr. Ali.”

I head toward the mansion, letting out a frustrated breath. As soon as I step inside, I see Nahal coming down the staircase. She leans against the banister, absentmindedly picking at her freshly manicured nails.

“Where the hell have you been?” she snaps. “He’s been driving us crazy for the last three hours!”

I let out another slow breath and walk right past her without saying a word. Her smug laugh follows me down the hallway.

I stop outside Grandfather’s study.

I straighten my brown coat, let out a slow breath, and clench my freezing hands into fists before knocking on the door.

“Come in.”

His voice is deep, rough, and commanding.

I turn the handle and step inside.

Just like always, he’s sitting behind his huge, intimidating desk.

His perfectly combed white hair is probably the only pleasant thing about his face. The deep lines carved into his skin show his age, but they haven’t taken away any of his strength.

He’s still solid.

Still powerful.

Still terrifying.

I clasp my hands behind my back and stand straight in front of his desk.

Silent.

Motionless.

My eyes stay lowered, fixed somewhere on the papers spread across his desk.

Even his calm voice sends a chill down my spine.

“I heard you turned down Mr. Zand’s lunch invitation yesterday.”

I swallow discreetly.

His voice stays calm.

“When I’m talking to you, look at me.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose and slowly raise my eyes.

His head is lowered, but his eyes are fixed on me.

My palms are damp.

I can hear my heartbeat picking up.

I know that look.

The little six-year-old girl buried somewhere inside me is terrified.

Maybe that’s why my hands won’t stop sweating.

He hates it when I hesitate, so I answer without missing a beat.

“I didn’t see any reason to have lunch with Him.”

He gives a slow nod.

Then he pushes his chair back and gets to his feet.

He starts walking toward me.

I already know what he’s about to do.

I’ve memorized every move.

He stops right in front of me.

I turn to face him, keeping my eyes away from his.

His hand comes up.

The slap lands hard across my face.

My head jerks to the side.

A few seconds.

Just a few.

Then I straighten up again, exactly where I was before.

The corner of my mouth almost curls into a smile, but I stop it.

“If you ever embarrass me again, you’ll find out exactly what happens.”

I lift my eyes and lock them on his.

Anger.

Pain.

Old wounds.

And I already know the words he’ll throw at me.

“I hate your eyes.”

The words come out through clenched teeth.

He points at the door.

“Get out.”

The corner of my lips twitches.

I walk out without a word.

By the time I make it downstairs, Nahal is sprawled in front of the TV, chewing gum. She’s wearing pink shorts that barely reach mid-thigh and a matching tank top. As if two grown men don’t live in this house.

I head for the front door.

“Hey, girl!”

Farzaneh’s voice stops me.

Girl.

She’s never called me by my name.

Not once.

I turn around and look at her freshly dyed burgundy hair.

When did she change this much?

The smooth skin around her eyes is a dead giveaway she’s had Botox again.

Just like Nahal, she’s wearing something equally ridiculous.

“Yes?”

Her gaze drifts over me with open contempt before settling on my reddened cheek.

She idly plays with her newly cropped hair.

“That slap wasn’t all that hard this time.”

I blink.

That’s all.

A smile creeps onto her lips.

“You look cuter when he uses his belt.”

I blink again.

She hates it when I don’t react.

I know that.

She glares at me.

“You haven’t forgotten about tomorrow night, have you? I don’t feel like listening to Grandfather complain. Be here on time.”

I let out a quiet breath and nod.

***********

And, just like always, it's the same routine.

Polite nods.

Small talk.

Endless conversations about work.

I hate these parties.

I glance over at Nahal. She's sitting off to one side with one leg crossed over the other, completely zoned out as she scrolls through her phone.

Why can't I live like she does?

Why does my life have to be so humiliating?

Aren't we both Grandfather's granddaughters?

Then why me...?

"Are you with us, Ms. Afaq?"

I turn my head and find Grandfather giving me a disapproving look.

My eyes drop to the blueprints spread out in front of me.

"It has the potential to be a very interesting project."

Mr. Imani smiles.

"So you agree?"

I nod.

He picks up where he left off.

I watch his lips move.

God...

This is so boring.

Grandfather made me study this field.

And I only agreed because I was afraid he'd cast me aside if I didn't.

My eyes drift toward the grand piano tucked away in the corner of the room.

I wish...

Mr. Imani's voice pulls my attention away from it.

"Mr. Zand should be here any minute now. I heard the two of you are having dinner together."

My eyebrows shoot up.

I glance at Grandfather.

Calm.

Unbothered.

Of course.

He'd already arranged everything.

Why do I keep thinking I can stand up to him?

I'm nothing compared to him.

Nothing.

"I think you should go get ready."

I slowly rise to my feet.

"Excuse me."

**********

His eyes stay on the menu, carefully reading every item.

Mine wander around the restaurant instead, moving from one expensive wall sconce to another.

The only thing keeping me from losing my appetite completely is the piano music echoing through the room.

Mr. Zand orders our food.

I eat quietly while he forces conversation on me.

What a painfully boring night.

God...

When is this day finally going to end?

"So, you speak French too?"

I give him a polite smile.

"A little."

He nods.

"That's truly impressive. You're talented in so many different fields."

"That's very kind of you."

He nods and gestures toward the pianist.

"Schubert's Fourth."

The corners of my lips lift slightly, and I immediately correct him.

"It's the Fifth."

His eyebrows rise.

"You know about piano too?"

I look outside the window.

"A little."

After dinner...

A dinner I barely ate...

He finally drives me home.

I walk slowly along the stone path through the garden, placing a hand over my stomach.

I'm not used to such expensive food.

A quiet laugh escapes me.

I climb the mansion stairs and quietly open Grandfather's bedroom door.

Just like always, he's lying on his back, asleep.

I place the medicine I picked up from the pharmacy on the bedside table.

I pull the blanket higher over him, turn off the bedside lamp, and quietly leave.

I walk out of the mansion and step into the garden.

The garden is terrifying at night.

Darkness has always frightened me.

I turn on my phone's flashlight.

I know the path by heart, but I can't handle walking through complete darkness without a light.

I walk around the mansion and reach the back entrance.

I go down the basement stairs and unlock my room.

I turn on the light, and the basement brightens.

I smile.

At least down here, I don't have to sit in the dark.

I grab my phone and choose one of my favorite traditional Persian songs.

Still wearing the same clothes, I collapse onto my bed.

I place my hands behind my head and let the music play.

Like every song on my playlist...

My life is always the same.

A little silly.

A little sad.

I smile again.

Slowly, my eyes close.