CHAPTER EIGHT
I sat up quickly, looking at him with questioning eyes. Ryan ran a trembling hand through his hair and said anxiously, "Don't go, Yas..."
"You aren't well and you need rest. Sleep!"
"I can't!"
"Why?"
"What am I to you?" he asked suddenly.
Why was he questioning me like this? What answer was he looking for? "I don't know... a sister? A friend?"
Ryan took a deep breath, looking distraught. "Neither... neither!"
"The death of 'neither'!" I snapped. "Why are you talking like someone who's drunk? Speak clearly—are you unhappy about the marriage? Or do you love someone else?"
Ryan looked at me so deeply that my eyes lowered in an uncharacteristic bashfulness. Though "shame" didn't really exist with Ryan—I had grown up in his hands; he had shown me more affection than even my own mother.
"I wish I were drunk on wine," he whispered. "In truth, neither of those matters. I am under no one's command to have a marriage forced upon me. If I love someone, I will have them, one way or another. But I'm afraid... I'm afraid she doesn't want me. I fear I've left it too late. Far too late."
I laughed mockingly, adding a pinch of humor. "Oho! So our Mr. Ryan is in love? Congratulations! And don't worry—I don't think anyone could reject you. Look at all this beauty and grandeur. Our nobleman is a Koh-i-Noor diamond! Hahaha!"
"Do you... do you... love him?"
My eyes widened. "Who?"
Ryan went silent. Remembering the morning's disaster and Tuba's "revelation," I burst into a fit of laughter. I lost all control, eventually resting my head on Ryan's shoulder as I laughed uncontrollably.
When Ryan rested his chin on the top of my head, I paused for a second, but then the thought of me loving "The Polar Bear" (Masih) hit me again, and I doubled over.
"Hahaha! Oh God, me loving the Polar Bear? Heaven forbid! Hahaha!"
I snapped my head up, still grinning, and looked Ryan in the eye. "So that's why Tuba..."
I suddenly reached out and pinched Ryan's cheeks, pulling them apart to stop him from finishing his sentence. "My dear sir, Tuba is a child! But I am amazed that a man of your 'monster-like' size took her words as gospel. Besides, what does that have to do with your tragic love story, Ryan Khan?"
"So... you're still... Ryan's little Yas?"
"Ugh, you're driving me crazy with this 'Little Yas' talk!" I stood up on the bed mockingly. "Look, I'm grown up now. Tomorrow or the day after, I'll be off to my wedding house. You can say 'My Little Yas' then!"
Ryan grabbed my hand with sudden intensity and pulled me back down beside him. "Wedding house? It's not that easy, Lady. In my presence, there is no such thing as a wedding house for you."
"Oh, look at Mr. Ryan's streak of possessiveness! But my dear brother, a girl belongs to another house eventually. You can't ignore that."
"Your tongue has grown quite long, Yas. And for the record—I am not your brother. Understood?"
I stuck my tongue out at him playfully. "Nope, not understood! Besides, Isar is so mean to me. He's still as jealous as ever!"
Ryan laughed warmly, showing his pearl-white teeth. "Imagine if he found out you were playing with his big brother like this."
"First of all, how am I 'playing' with you? And second, you won't tell him, right? The other day, he didn't even say hello; he just asked for you in that annoying voice: 'Where is Khan Lala?' I wanted to tell him you were in hell, but I was afraid. Well, not afraid, just polite. Believe me, he is so rude. Even though he's older than me, he hasn't got a third of my brains."
Trying to stifle his laughter, Ryan managed to say, "So... you wanted to tell him I was in hell?"
I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, blushing. "Did I say that? Are you sure?"
He couldn't hold it back anymore; he roared with laughter. The brooding Ryan from moments ago was gone. I was glad I hadn't left him alone.
"Are you an old man, laughing like that? Have you no shame?"
Ryan caught his breath but remained joyful. "I'm an old man? Just a moment ago I was a 'Koh-i-Noor diamond,' Lady... but let's move on. Tell me about Israr. He's better than Isar, isn't he?"
At the mention of Israr, the bloody scene flashed before my eyes. "Yes... Ryan, can I ask you something?"
"Ask a thousand things!"
"Israr... how was he wounded? Who was behind that accident?"
The mood shifted. Ryan's expression clouded as he thought for a moment. "My father's rival," he said unpleasantly. "The feud began four years ago when that man's niece committed suicide on her wedding night, leaving a note."
My curiosity spiked. "What was in the note? And what does it have to do with you?"
"It had everything to do with me. My name was mentioned in that cursed letter. That was the end of Jamshid Khan's friendship with my father and the start of a new chapter of hostility. It was mostly business rivalry until now... but I don't know what reignited the grudge after four years to the point where they dragged Israr into it."
"Why your name? What did the letter say?"
"From what I heard," Ryan said, pacing, "they had engaged the girl to the son of a high-ranking official to boost their business. She protested, but no one took her seriously. So, she hanged herself on her wedding night."
"Ryan, speak like a human being! What did it have to do with you? Did you... did you assault her? Why would she hang herself because of you?"
"Is that the only thing your 'extra-terrestrial' brain can come up with? No! I only saw her once! Just once! I don't even remember her face. I don't know how or when she fell for a wretch like me, but by leaving that note, she made me even more wretched. She officially named me as her lover. Jamshid Khan held me responsible for her death and wounded Israr for revenge. We're lucky his intent wasn't murder, only to threaten me."
I couldn't believe a girl had killed herself over Ryan. Was it possible to fall that deep after one meeting?
"What a girl... But what happens now? What if they come for one of you again?"
"I don't think he'll dare again. If he had the guts, he would have done more in these last four years."
I never imagined the matter was this dark. "So, you said no one can reject you, right?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"Don't be too optimistic," he teased. "I only said that because you were looking pathetic and I felt sorry for you, you half-breed nobleman!"
"Hahaha! Oh Yas, don't tell me that. France has heavenly beauties, though they are nothing compared to you."
"Are you mocking me, Ryan? You aren't that handsome yourself. You can't even be compared to Afghan boys. Even your name is Western and not pretty at all. You 'Lightless' Frenchman!"
"Oh Yas, that's mean! I am Afghan; the French blood has practically left my veins, believe me. But I'd be lying if I denied my love for French culture—I love it because of my mother. As for the name, I didn't choose it. What matters is the Afghan blood in my veins."
Feeling a bit self-conscious, I asked, "Tell the truth... am I a 'Short Squirrel'? I'm not that short, am I?"
Ryan's face softened. "That's just the perspective of the person saying it. You are like a delicate, fragile work of art. You are never a 'Shorty,' my dear."
"Hahaha! Long live the Khan! Anyway, I have to go. And don't smoke anymore, or our relationship is over. Understood?"
"As you command, my Yas."
"You talk like you've got a wine glass in your hand in a tavern."
"Why do I need wine? Seeing you makes me drunk enough."
I narrowed my eyes. "Hey! Are you talking to your mistress? I didn't expect you to be so rude. Don't make me smash a wine glass over your head. Did you leave your modesty in France?"
"Perhaps... my dear, don't strain your small brain too much. I don't want you to be troubled."
"Ugh, Ryan, don't talk like that. It's totally off-putting. We are friends, so let's talk as equals, okay?"
Ryan smirked. "No, impossible. I'm comfortable this way."
I stuck my tongue out at him again. "Because you're rude! I truly feel sorry for you."
A beautiful smile graced his face. "I sacrifice myself for my Yas's 'politeness,' which I taught her myself!"
"Glad you admitted it, 'Grandma'! Anyway, save your sorrow for tomorrow—imagine all those girls lining up for Ryan Khan!"
I dashed for the door. "We'll talk tomorrow. Goodnight!"
I didn't wait for an answer. I closed the door and went to the basement. Everyone was asleep. I kissed Tuba's face and drifted off.
"Auntie! Why aren't you waking up? I want to see Ryan! Wake up!"
I rubbed my eyes, sleepy. "Tuba, it's bad manners. Why don't you call him 'Khan'? What has Tahmina taught you? Don't let me hear you call him just 'Ryan' again, understood?"
"But—"
"No buts. He is older than you. Now get up, let's eat breakfast."
I felt heavy and nauseous—a feeling that had been coming and going for a few years now. Sometimes I'd get short of breath or feel a burning in my chest when running or climbing stairs, but it wasn't constant. I figured it was just exhaustion or anemia. Cold water on my face helped my heart rate steady. I dressed and ran a comb through my short hair.
"Come, Tuba!"
We went to the kitchen. "Good morning!"
After breakfast, I began my task: cleaning the second-floor rooms—the noblemen's rooms. Tuba came with me.
"Where shall we start, Tuba?"
"Ryan's room..."
She quickly covered her mouth. "Sorry! I mean, Khan's room!"
"Better. But let that be the last time."
I knocked on Ryan's door and entered after he gave permission. He was an early riser because of his workouts.
"Welcome, dear ladies! Come, Tuba, give me a morning greeting."
Tuba ran to Ryan, who was sitting in a chair, and jumped into his lap. "Is Lady Tuba well?"
"No," she pouted.
"Oh? Why? Did someone hurt you?"
"Yes! Auntie is always bothering me. I think she... you..."
Oh God, bringing Tuba was a mistake!...
END OF CHAPTER EIGHT