CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Yas! Why are you just sitting there? I've lost count of how many times I called you. We have to prepare the evening meal!"
The evening meal? How long had I been sitting here in this absolute void? Oh, Ryan... oh.
"Yes, Mother, I'm coming." I left the window reluctantly and followed her. The kitchen was a cacophony of noise—the heavy clatter of pots and raised voices—which meant everyone had gathered there.
Masih, who was busy talking to Sophia, caught sight of me and said complainingly, "Some people have very short memories..."
I shot him a sharp look as I stood beside Sophia. "Meaning who, exactly?"
"Meaning my midget sister, for example."
"My brainless polar bear, why should I be counted among the forgetful?"
"Aren't you? You used to make time for us, but now you seem... preoccupied."
"Don't weave stories. I'm the same as I've always been; perhaps it's you who has forgotten."
Sophia, clearly bored by the bickering, said wearily, "Yas, sit down. Don't take Masih seriously; he's just joking."
I pulled out a chair next to her and sat down with a smirk. "Mr. Bear isn't taken seriously himself, let alone his words."
Sophia laughed softly, and Masih pulled a face. "See what she says, Sophia? This mischievous midget! Go ahead, take pride in ignoring me. God sits on the throne of justice; one day, my sighs will catch up to you."
At that, Sophia and I burst into laughter, the tension in the kitchen finally breaking.
"Masih, dear, were you always this oppressed and we just didn't know it?" I teased.
With a pouting lip and a fallen face, Masih delivered his ridiculous reply: "I am always the oppressed one when it comes to you two. You're both so ungrateful you don't know my value."
"Oh, is that so? Sophia, why don't we appreciate this 'prince'? Isn't it a crime?"
Masih, not expecting me to play along, looked at me with confusion.
"Masih dear, I'm truly sorry," I continued. "You're right. Sophia and I should be ashamed. Forgive us."
Masih whispered, stunned, "Yas... are you mocking me?"
"Heaven forbid! Why don't you understand the language of humanity, brother? Which part of my words sounded like mockery?"
"Those words are far from your nature, Midget Madam!"
With Sophia's help, we set the table. Masih wasn't idle either—he occupied himself with his usual hobby of annoying people—but I can't deny he helped carry half the dishes.
Almost everyone was at the table. I walked toward them with the last dish in hand. As I expected, Ryan sat there, grim and serious, as if he were at a funeral. I set the soup bowl down and turned to head back to the hallway.
I hadn't gone two steps when the firm, resonant voice of the Big Khan stopped me in my tracks. Despite his wrinkled face, there wasn't a hint of a tremor in his voice. It was the kind of voice that made a condemned person wither.
I was shocked. He never spoke to me. Perhaps he considered it a disgrace to acknowledge my existence. What magic had occurred to change that?
"Did I not tell you never to step foot in here except for essential duties?"
An ancient, visceral fear of the Khan always lived in my heart—so much so that I could never look him in the eye. Shaking slightly, a cold sweat breaking over my skin, I stammered, "The table... I set the table, Khan... Sahib."
"Are these two here for your amusement?" he asked, gesturing to the others.
My soul felt the sting of an invisible but jagged attack. I felt myself shriveling in front of Masih and Sophia; I wanted to melt into the floor. I wanted to turn into light and escape through a crack in the wall to find a safe, dark place to hide.
"Let this be the last time, or—"
"Father... shall we begin?"
Ryan's voice arrived like a savior in a moment of absolute darkness. But the Big Khan's words had already done their damage.
I bolted for the basement, my steps heavy and my throat tight with a sob. My eyes were ready to overflow, but my pride refused to break.
Pride? What pride? The one that had already been shattered into invisible pieces by these aristocrats?
The sob finally broke. Tears slid down my face one by one as the scene from moments ago played on a loop behind my eyes.
Why was I born into this palace with this identity? Why must he be the 'Aghazadeh' and I the 'Asirzadeh' (child of a captive)? Who set the rules for this world? What kind of test is this? Why don't our prayers reach God? Why are they constantly rejected? Why aren't we heard? Why!?
I pulled my knees to my chest and wept silently. At that moment, I believed in no one. I only knew that we were forced to live and condemned to accept humiliation from the powerful. With every passing second, I felt the weight of my own insignificance.
I don't know how long I sat there before the sound of footsteps announced a third person in my purgatory. I pulled myself into a tighter ball. Who would come here? Surely Sophia. Who else would care?
I kept my head on my knees, lacking even the will to wipe my tears. The steps drew closer, but I remained indifferent. The person stood just a step away. I didn't want to break my solitude. More accurately, I didn't want to see pity in anyone's eyes.
I cleared my throat, trying to hide the tremor in my voice. "Sophia, I'm not in the mood. Go away, we'll talk later."
I waited for her to leave, but instead, a hand was placed on my head.
But... this was a man's hand. Large and firm. It certainly wasn't Sophia's.
I snapped my head up. The moment I saw who was standing over me, my suppressed anger flared back into a blaze.
Do you know who I found before me?
Ryan Khan.
I targeted his eyes with a look of pure loathing and disgust. A sob caught in my throat—the warning bell of a breakdown.
"Yas."
That one word was enough. Like a wounded tigress, I lunged at him.
I shoved him back with all the strength I could muster and began raining weak, frantic fists against his chest.
"Don't speak my name! I hate all of you! I wish you'd die! I wish you'd all just die!"
"It's alright... be calm... calm down..."
The sobbing vanished, replaced by raw wailing. I continued to vent my rage on him. "Why are you even here? Didn't you hear your father? I wish you knew how much I hate you people!"
I screamed, and Ryan listened. He stood there like a statue. I grew exhausted from my own outburst. Why didn't he fight back? Why didn't he complain about the things I was saying?
As I realized what I was doing, I came back to my senses. He wasn't the type to leave such words unanswered. I expected him to explode any second and for the shrapnel to tear me apart.
Ryan sat down on the rug across from me. He stared at me without blinking. His face was impossible to read. Then, a smile—soft and creeping—appeared on his lips as he moved closer to me.
I swallowed hard and wiped my tears. To be honest, I was terrified. You could never predict Ryan's reactions. I had told him to die; I expected the worst.
The wall was at my back; there was no escape. There was no space left between Ryan and me. While I stared at him with wide, frightened eyes, he watched me with that smile—I couldn't tell if it was real or a mask. His hand crept slowly, uncertainly, toward my face.
Was he going to slap me?
I braced myself for the blow. But he... he couldn't raise a hand against me, could he?
When his fingers finally touched my skin, my thoughts vanished. He began to gently brush away the remaining tears with his fingertips. I watched him, confused.
"Are you finished?" he asked softly. "If you aren't feeling lighter yet, you can continue. I'm right here. Besides, you look very ugly when you cry like this. And... if you truly want my death, and if that would make you happy, I have no objection. My darling, whenever you wish for my death, don't just say it—take the trouble yourself and plunge the dagger into my heart."
He leaned forward and kissed my hair tenderly. A moment later, he stood up without a word and left the basement.
What did that mean? Why didn't he strike back? Why didn't he punish me?
How could I forget that he is Ryan? Curse my ungrateful soul! Why do I always repay his kindness with such bitterness?
No, no... I shouldn't have said those horrible things. If he died, would I even want to live? Why wasn't I struck dumb before I said it?
I... I love him more than myself. How could I break him like that? Was he not my Ryan?
I sat there, paralyzed. That hollow feeling that follows an explosion of rage settled over me. But it was too late. What good was regret now?...
END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN