the once crore Deal

chapter 10

Chapter 10: Shadows in the Snow

​Days melted into one another, blurring the lines of reality for Zartash and Esfand. Their connection had long since crossed the boundary of ordinary affection; it had mutated into a fierce, consuming intensity. In just a handful of fleeting moments, they had become each other's absolute anchor. To exist apart was no longer a mere inconvenience—it was a slow, agonizing suffocation.

​While Zartash still tried desperately to preserve fragments of her boundaries, Esfand’s obsession had become total, absolute, and utterly boundless. She rarely voiced the depths of her feelings aloud, keeping her emotions locked behind a quiet composure, but the truth burned fiercely in her eyes every time he looked at her.

​Winter arrived with a sudden, merciless chill, painting the isolated landscape in stark, freezing white.

​"Esfand, it is freezing today," Zartash murmured, stepping into the expansive lounge while wrapping a thick, heavy woolen shawl tightly around her shoulders.

​From across the room, tending to the rustic stone fireplace, Esfand didn't turn immediately. A faint, knowing smirk played on his lips. "That, my dear Madam, is because it is actively snowing outside."

​Zartash froze, her eyes widening in genuine astonishment. "What? Really?" She stared at him as if he had spoken of a mythical creature, her reaction so theatrical and wide-eyed that it felt as though she had never heard the word winter before in her life.

​"Yes, really. Go on, look for yourself if you don't believe me," he teased, standing up and dusting off his hands.

​"I've only ever heard tales of snowfall! I've always dreamed of seeing it with my own eyes!" Excitement bubbled up inside her, overriding her usual caution. She spun on her heel and hurried toward the front entrance, eager to rush outside.

​"Madam, stop right there!" Esfand’s sharp, commanding voice cut through her haste. He closed the distance between them in two long strides, his hands catching her shoulders to turn her back. "Do you want to freeze to death? Cover yourself properly before you go running out into a blizzard. You'll catch pneumonia within five minutes."

​Skilfully, he readjusted her shawl, wrapping it snugly around her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin with a familiar, electrifying warmth.

​Zartash tilted her chin up, a playful defiance dancing in her eyes. "I am not like you, Esfand. A mere breath of cold wind doesn't instantly make me sneeze—" With a graceful, theatrical swirl, she tried to slip past him.

​Outside, the evening was bleeding into a deep, velvety indigo. The twilight air was heavy and silent, save for the mesmerizing spectacle of countless tiny, white pearls drifting down from the darkened heavens. It was a breathtaking, almost ethereal sight.

​"Breathtaking, isn't it?" Esfand’s voice murmured softly right beside her ear.

​She hadn't even realized he had followed her so closely. Before she could answer, his hand reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cold cheek. His fingers lingered near the sensitive curve of her earlobe, his breath mingling with the frosty air, hot against the side of her neck. The sheer proximity of him sent a violent, breathless shiver straight down her spine—and it had nothing to do with the snow.

​Her pulse hammered against her ribs as she turned her head to look up at him. "What are you looking at?"

​His gaze tracked the contour of her face before locking onto her eyes. "I was thinking that you are beautiful... but not quite enough."

​Zartash blinked, a flicker of confusion and wounded pride flashing across her features. "What is that supposed to mean?"

​"It means," he whispered, a soft, intoxicating smile touching his lips as his thumb brushed over her rosy cheek, "that you aren't just a pretty girl. You are the most breathtaking creature in this entire world."

​For a heartbeat, the rest of the universe vanished. But then, the biting reality of the freezing wind snapped them back. Esfand’s expression shifted, his thumb dropping away as he glanced up at the darkening sky. "Come inside. It's getting late, and out here... dangerous things roam these woods after dark."

​Gently catching her hand, he led her back into the warmth of the cabin.

​Zartash settled down on the plush rug near the crackling fireplace, extending her numb hands toward the flames to coax the life back into them. Esfand disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with two steaming mugs.

​"Tea, Madam?" he asked, extending a cup toward her.

​She accepted it with a quiet nod, taking a small sip as the warmth spread through her chest. But an inquisitive shadow lingered in her mind, one she had buried for too long. She looked up through the curling tendrils of steam. "Esfand... you've never spoken about your family. Not once."

​The cup in Esfand’s hand stopped mid-air, inches from his mouth. The sudden stillness in his posture was absolute.

​Unaware of the landmine she had just stepped on, she pressed on, driven by a foolish curiosity. "Did they live far from here? Why do you never mention them?"

​"They died in a car crash," he replied, his voice dropping into a flat, deadpan monotone. Without another word, he set his teacup down on the wooden table with a sharp, echoing thud, turning his back to her.

​"You never talk about them, never share a memory..." she persisted softly, her voice probing where it had no business going.

​"I already told you once that they are dead! Why the hell are you repeating these garbage questions?!"

​His roar shattered the quiet intimacy of the room like a gunshot. Esfand spun around, his face dark with sudden, violent fury, his chest heaving.

​Zartash recoiled, a gasp escaping her lips as terror paralyzed her limbs. Never, in all the time she had known him, had he ever raised his voice at her like this. The raw aggression in his eyes felt like a physical blow. Without thinking, she scrambled to her feet, her whole body trembling as she backed away toward the hallway.

​"Zartash, wait—where are you going? I'm sorry!" Realizing what he had done, panic replaced his anger. He lunged forward, catching her arm as she tried to flee toward the bedroom. "Dammit, Zartash, listen to me—I'm sorry!"

​Hot tears spilled over her lashes, burning her cheeks. She struggled against his grip, desperate to pull away. "Let me go!"

​"No, I won't let you go," he pleaded, pulling her unresisting body against his chest.

​"Let me go, Esfand!" she sobbed, her voice breaking under the weight of her shock and humiliation.

​"Please, Zartash, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—please look at me!" Panic stripped away all his fierce dominance, turning him into a desperate, pleading soul. He cupped her face in his trembling hands, kissing away her tears with a frantic, obsessive desperation, begging for forgiveness like a terrified child.

​For a long, agonizing moment, Zartash stood rigid in his embrace. Then, slowly, the defensive wall cracked. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she buried her face against his shoulder, letting out a ragged sob.

​He held her tighter, as if trying to fuse her very soul into his. But after a few seconds, she pulled back, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

​"Are you alright? Do you need anything?" he asked, his voice thick with lingering guilt.

​"I'm fine," she whispered, her voice hollow. "I'm just... tired. I need to sleep."

​Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked away into the bedroom.

​She lay awake for hours, the howling wind outside matching the chaotic storm raging inside her head. When sleep finally claimed her, it was heavy, fractured, and far too brief.

​The next morning, the weak winter sun cast a pale, sickly light across the frost-bitten windows.

​"I need to run to the town edge and pick up a few essential supplies," Esfand said, handing her a hastily scribbled list before grabbing his heavy jacket. At the doorway, he turned back, his gaze intensely protective. "I might be delayed. Do not—under any circumstances—open this door for anyone until I return. Do you understand?"

​With that warning hanging heavily in the air, he stepped out into the freezing wilderness and vanished down the trail.

​Once he was gone, the cabin felt suffocatingly empty. Zartash tried to busy herself, cleaning the living room and turning on the television just to drown out the oppressive silence. But the hours dragged on with agonizing slowness. Afternoon bled into evening, and evening surrendered to a pitch-black night.

​Esfand was not back.

​Panic, cold and sharp, began to claw at the edges of her sanity. She checked the clock—it was past nine at night. He had never stayed out this late without warning. She snatched his phone from the table and dialed his number, only to hear the dreaded automated voice: The mobile number you are calling is currently switched off.

​"Pick up, please, just pick up..." she whispered to the empty room, her hands shaking. She rushed to the landline, frantically calling Roohi, her voice spilling out in a breathless, panicked rush. "Roohi! Listen to me, Esfand left early this morning and he hasn't returned! It's past nine, his phone is dead, and he never stays out this late—I'm terrified something has happened to him!"

​"Calm down, Zartash, calm down," Roohi's voice crackled through the receiver, trying to steady her. "Let me try calling him—"

​Ten o'clock struck like a death knell.

​Suddenly, a loud, fumbling rattle echoed from the front door. Hope surged in Zartash’s chest—he was back! She flew toward the entryway, flinging the door open, eager to scold him for worrying her to death.

​The words died instantly in her throat, replaced by a blood-curdling scream that tore through the cabin.

​Standing in the doorway was Esfand—but he was unrecognizable.

​His entire body was drenched in dark, glistening blood. It soaked his hair, smeared across his face, and saturated his shirt from shoulder to waist. He swayed on his feet, barely conscious, a horrific casualty of a violent war she knew nothing about.