The heavy oak doors of the Khan mansion groaned as Meher pushed them open, her silhouette framed against the dim hallway.
Every muscle in her body ached from a day spent navigating the high-stakes pressure of the corporate office. With a weary groan, she leaned against the wall to kick off her stifling heels, the cold marble floor a sharp, refreshing contrast against her feet.
She slid into her slippers, dropped her designer purse onto the side table without a second glance, and practically collapsed onto the velvet living room sofa.
She let out a long, shuddering sigh, closing her eyes for what she hoped would be a moment of peace.
"So… how was your date?"
The voice was cold and perfectly timed. Meher's eyes snapped open to find Asad walking toward her, his presence instantly tightening the air in the room.
She sat up straight, the exhaustion in her limbs replaced by a sudden, defensive spark.
"How do you always know the moment I get home?"
she demanded, her eyes narrowing. "Don't tell me you've installed cameras."
Asad didn't flinch. A small, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. "I'm talking about your date with Zayn."
Meher felt the weight of the evening return tenfold. She flopped back onto the cushions, rolling her eyes toward the ornate ceiling. "Not bad," she muttered, her voice dripping with indifference.
"So?" Asad pressed, standing over her like a shadow.
Meher looked up at him, her brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "So… what?"
"Should I talk about marriage now?"
The bluntness of the question hit her like a physical blow. Meher exhaled a long, shaky breath, trying to steady her nerves. "I never said it was good," she replied, her voice gaining a hard edge. "Besides, Zayn's not going to agree."
Asad's expression darkened as he moved to sit on the opposite sofa, his posture rigid and unforgiving. "He didn't like you?"
"I guess," she shrugged, the rejection stinging more because of her father's scrutiny than the date itself.
Asad's tone suddenly sharpened, cutting through the silence. "What can you even do properly?"
The words were a slap to her pride. Meher straightened her spine, her face flushing with a mix of hurt and offense. "I tried," she snapped back. "I can't do more than that."
"I don't care," Asad replied, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low frequency. "If he doesn't like you, make him like you."
A short, bitter laugh escaped Meher's throat. She looked at him with disbelief. "What do you think I am, a magician?"
"Did I raise you just so you could argue with me?" Asad finally snapped, his voice booming through the quiet mansion. "Can you do one thing right?"
The shouting echoed up the grand staircase, and a moment later, Zehra rushed out of her room, her face pale with concern.
Meher felt the anger boiling in her chest, a heat that threatened to spill over. She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady."I gave up my dream of starting my own company for you," Meher said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of frustration. "Isn't that enough?"
Asad's eyes flashed with cold conviction. "You didn't do it for me. You did it for your sister."
Meher's gaze flickered to Zehra before snapping back to her father. "My sister? Isn't she your daughter too?"
Seeing the storm escalating, Zehra hurried toward them, her hands raised in a silent plea for peace. "Let's go have dinner…
please,
" she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's getting cold."
Asad stood up and walked toward Zehra. His demeanor shifted instantly, transitioning from rage to a chilling, calculated calm. "Are you defending her?"
"No, it's not that," Zehra stammered, looking down. "But she always listens to you. Let her follow her own heart for once."
Asad didn't respond to the plea. He turned his head back toward Meher, his glare final and absolute. "I'm telling you in advance you're marrying Zayn. That's final."
Meher stood up, the fatigue gone, replaced by a cold, numb resolve. She began to walk toward the dining room, but as she reached Asad's side, she came to a halt.
She didn't look at him, but her voice was low and heavy with a warning.
"Then let's wait for Zayn's reply,"
she whispered, her words cutting through the tension. "You can force me… but you can't force him."