PART TWO
Ryan, Israr, and Isar were born to a French mother and an Afghan father. It was as clear as sunlight that they lacked nothing in beauty, though among the three, Ryan was the purest blend of his father and mother.
Madam Helen passed away three years before I was born, during the birth of Isar, and departed toward eternity. This meant that Isar was three years older than me. Although I never met or saw Madam Helen, I am able to paint a picture of her radiant Western beauty in my mind. My mother always spoke of her exquisite beauty and her refined character.
Since the Madam passed away, the order of this palace has completely crumbled. According to my mother, she was a kind and compassionate woman—the polar opposite of Dawood Khan, who was legendary for his cruelty and aggression. In reality, his grim face itself was a testament to these truths. I harbor a strange fear of Dawood Khan in my heart, such that every time I see him, my legs grow weak and my head bows before him involuntarily.
Among his children, Ryan has inherited this trait the most. Although he is sociable and kind with me, he is cold and rebellious toward others, to the point that distant and close relatives consider him a duplicate version of Dawood Khan.
...
The Confrontation on the Stairs
I took my soiled clothes in my hands and headed toward the stairs. My head was down as I adjusted the clothes in my hands, not looking at the path ahead, when I suddenly collided with a heavy body and stopped in my tracks.
Lifting my eyes and seeing Ryan, my eyes grew wide with shock. He was standing exactly by the doorway, blocking my path. I swallowed hard and asked with a stutter:
"Sir... what... what are you doing here?"
Ryan descended the last step and closed the door with a gut-wrenching sound.
"Masih is a good boy, isn't he?"
I was chilled by his strange tone; I knew well that he was not one to be crossed.
"Wh... what do you mean?"
"What if he were to lose a limb?" Ryan asked.
I felt the blood dry in my veins and my face turned pale. Why was he speaking this way? I was terrified of this tone. Ryan laughed wildly and raised his hands in a sign of surrender.
"No... no, Yas. I meant by complete accident and coincidence, nothing else!"
"Sir..."
With a terrifying scream from Ryan, I froze in my spot, and once again found myself trapped between his hands. The pain from the pressure he applied to my arms rippled through my body. The pain overwhelmed me, but I did not stop staring at this nobleman. I watched him so I would remember; I watched to water the buried seeds of hatred.
Let it sprout, even at the cost of my decline and the destruction of my dreams!
I watched him as the color of his face turned red with rage. He broke the reigning silence and said through gritted teeth:
"One more time—just one more time—say that ridiculous word 'Sir,' and I will not be responsible for what happens, you stupid girl!!"
I was still in shock from Ryan's scream and assault, unable to do anything but stare.
"Look at me! Don't play games with me, for the price will be heavy. You know well that my cup of patience is very small... very small!!"
End of Part Two