forbidden whispers

chapter 8

She saw him slide a small piece of paper under the door before everything went silent. Maasa picked it up and read it.

“Your reception exceeded my expectations. I’ll be waiting for you in the study… Don’t be late.”

She could feel the mockery dripping from his words—she could almost hear that arrogant, condescending laugh. That infuriating, self-important man… After all these years, he still never misses a chance to make fun of her. She reread the note, feeling the first sparks of anger flare in her chest.

“Don’t be late.”

Who did that i***t think he was to talk to her like that?

If she could just say one single word to him… she would wipe the floor with him.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Her anger was unreasonable… or maybe she was exaggerating a little.

No—why lie to herself? She genuinely wanted to strangle him at that very moment.

That fool… who does he think he is?!

A stubborn voice in her head answered sarcastically, “Your older brother, you idiot.”

She exhaled in defeat.

Right—her brother. Nothing more.

Holding on to that discouraging thought somehow gave her a bit of strength. She changed into a long-sleeved shirt that reached her knees, tied her silky hair into a tight ponytail, gathered her courage, and headed toward her father’s study—where Qasim was waiting.

She pushed the door open without knocking. He stood by the window, staring out at the garden bathed in moonlight. It was already evening; the moon cast a pale glow that wrapped the house in silver. Maasa frowned and glanced at the clock—it was eight. She had slept far longer than she intended.

Qasim turned toward her, and his eyes followed the movement of hers. His lips curled into a mocking smile.

“You wasted too much time sleeping. You can’t afford to slack off with your studies just because my mother is away.”

Her gaze lifted to meet his. He had changed so much… even the way he looked at her was different. In the past, she could feel his affection in every glance. Now… his eyes carried something strange—dark, weary, wounded.

But one thing hadn’t changed: his beauty.

Damn him. He had only grown more striking—unbearably handsome, impossibly masculine. It was no wonder he got engaged so quickly; no woman alive would let him slip away. He looked like a prince escaping from a fairytale—just without the horse.

Unfortunately, not her prince…

but the prince of that blonde Barbie doll who clung to his arm like a parasite.

For his part, Qasim stared at her. He noticed the more modest clothes, the harsh way she had tied her hair—he could almost hear her scalp crying for help.

That i***t… What was she thinking?

Maasa caught his stare and the ghost of that infuriating smirk. She sighed in annoyance and motioned with her hands, asking the question he wished she wouldn’t ask:

“Where is my mother? Didn’t she come back with you?”

He still didn’t know how he would tell her all the lies. He didn’t know if he could convince her of something he himself had barely accepted. His mother had died… and she had left him with an impossible task.

He exhaled and turned away so she wouldn’t see the truth in his eyes. The lies slipped from his lips smoothly—he had rehearsed them on the plane again and again, forcing himself to become comfortable enough to repeat them without hesitation. Not just for his parents… but for her.

He alone knew how deeply she loved his mother. The shock would destroy her, and he couldn’t risk her grades failing. Her entire future was at stake.

Maasa suddenly stepped in front of him, cutting him off. Her face was burning with anger. She gestured sharply:

“Are you making fun of me? Look at me when you talk.”

He looked at her—and wished he hadn’t.

He drowned instantly in the ocean of her eyes.

Words slipped from his tongue; thoughts scattered.

Stunning.

No other word seemed fitting.

How could she still stir so much in him with just a glance… even after years of being apart?

She raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue, her eyes drifting toward his lips, ready to catch every word he uttered. He swallowed hard, shook off the dangerous thoughts, and silently prayed she would believe him.

She was going to kill him one day.

Her eyebrow rose higher—her patience draining away.

“My parents had to travel to the United States,” he said finally.

“My fiancée’s father offered my dad a business project. It was too tempting to refuse.”

Maasa’s eyes widened in shock. Her mother had promised she would return soon. How could she leave without seeing her? Without telling her anything?

Qasim saw the hurt flooding her face. He couldn’t allow her time to think or question him—so he attacked, even if it meant wounding her:

“What? Are you a child? Did she have to take you with her?”

He let out a bitter laugh at her reaction, turning away and heading toward the desk. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, anchoring himself, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Maasa. When will you grow up? You’re not a child! My mother spent her whole life spoiling you. She even neglected me and my father because of you. How can you be this selfish?”

Her eyes clung to his lips—every word a knife slicing into her heart.

He ignored the tears burning in her eyes and pushed harder:

“Stop being self-centered. My mother has always wanted to travel alone with my father. She finally got her chance. You can’t cling to them forever. Let them breathe.”

Maasa’s mouth fell open.

Is that truly what she had been doing?

Had she suffocated her mother without realizing it?

Why did he have to be so brutally honest?

His words made her feel worthless—as if all the years she spent with them meant nothing.

She lowered her head, misery washing over her, and turned to leave.

But Qasim moved quickly, blocking her path.

She lifted her eyes to his, only to find anger twisting his features.

What more did he want? Hadn’t he hurt her enough?

Her eyes—two shattered pieces of a lost child—nearly broke him.

He cursed silently, pressed a sealed envelope into her palm labeled “To my beloved Maasa.”, then left the room without looking back.

He didn’t have a choice.

Maasa sat alone in her room, staring at her mother’s sealed letter. Fear wrapped around her fingers, keeping her from opening it. She no longer trusted herself, no longer trusted her own worth.

If only he had given her the letter without saying those cruel words… she would have flown with joy.

But now—now she was terrified of reading it.

She watched the envelope with trembling hesitation, as though she were about to uncover a ticking bomb.

A painful question echoed inside her:

Why had Qasim told her such hurtful things?

Had her mother grown tired of her presence?

Did they truly no longer want her?

Had she really been a burden to them all this time?

She had never—never—felt that way.

The love her parents showered upon her was enough to make her feel like a true member of the family, no different from Qasim himself.

But now… Qasim’s words had poisoned her heart with doubt and rejection.

Suddenly she felt as though she didn’t belong here at all—as if she had intruded on a home that was never meant to be hers, stealing their peace without knowing it.

Her tears slid down, falling onto the letter cradled in her hands.

There was no point in delaying what was coming.

She wiped her cheeks, took a shaky breath, and slowly began to open the letter—

as though she were turning the final page of her life.

Then she read:

---

My dearest Maasti,

I know I promised you I would return quickly, and I am so sorry… I couldn’t keep my promise.

Your father has been waiting for an opportunity like this project for a very long time, and we simply couldn’t refuse.

I know you will understand, my dear. I want you to know that I have always wished for a chance to take a small vacation with your father, to rest from all the work pressure, and this opportunity gives us both rest and work at once.

You cannot imagine how beautiful this island is, and the weather is absolutely wonderful. When you finish your classes, I will ask Qasim to bring you here to visit us.

I have asked him to return and take care of you while we’re away. Your aunt cannot leave her family for such a long period, so I want you and Qasim to get along and help each other. Do not hesitate to ask him for anything you need—he can take my place until we meet again.

And as for your father, don’t worry—he is happy and comfortable working here. And you know I can never leave him alone. This is our chance to renew our marriage and take a long, peaceful break together. I have neglected him so much lately, and I want to make up for the lost time.

I am sorry, my little one, if my absence has upset you. But I don’t want it to affect you at all. I want you to continue your studies and excel in them. When I return, I want to be proud of you and of your great achievements. So don’t disappoint me—work hard, persevere, and achieve your dreams and mine.

Don’t stop writing to me; I will always write back and never stop.

Take care of yourself—and of your brother. You will never find someone who loves and cherishes you more than he does. And promise me you will never fight with him. Listen to him, always. And if he bothers you… just tell me, and I will scold him for your sake.

I love you so much.

---

Maasa held the letter against her chest with love, longing, and tears.

Her mother had never hurt her—not even with a look.

Qasim’s cruelty had filled her with doubt, made her question the letter before she read it… but the message revealed the complete opposite of what he made her feel.

Her mother still loved her.

Her mother had never grown tired of her.

Her mother had even promised to return to her.

Should she write back now and complain about Qasim’s harsh behavior?

Of course not.

She would never let him spoil her feelings toward her parents.

That arrogant man.

He should have stayed with his perfect little “Barbie” and left her alone.

She didn’t need someone as selfish as him anywhere near her.

She exhaled sharply, slipped the letter into her secret box, locked it, then threw herself onto her bed.

Her eyes traced the hanging crystal on the ceiling, determination slowly tightening in her chest.

Qasim had declared war on her from the very first moment…

That i***t would find her waiting for him—

ready to fight back,

and she would be worse than anything he expected.

Maybe then he would finally grow tired of her and run back into the arms of his precious blonde doll.