— "Rise and rise again until lambs become lions."

"You're my little fawn."

𝕷egend claims that once upon a time in a land far away, amongst the swinging branches of a forest so dense that the sun couldn't shine through lived a vigilante and his crony who raised the flag of justice and eradicated all evil. The arrow in his longbow was strung tight, its target invariably a man with pockets filled with gold and silver.

Men who reeked of power. Boasted of power. Violated their power.

On that land and in that forest amongst the shadows breathed a hero who ironically breached all the laws to champion the unfortunate.

➽───────────────❥

The sky was pure white cotton candy merged into large strings of light blue, streaks of gold enhancing the elaborate display of nature's art. The birds chirped and flew over the sparkling waters of the lake that sat beside the infamous forest of the little hidden town, the squirrels snuggled inside their homes in tree stumps while the rest of the animal kingdom sauntered about in their territory.

Raiya could be mistaken for a fairytale kingdom with the unseen and unheard-of treasures it possessed but unfortunately, no magical powers protected it from the worldly dangers which were why the roars and cries of protests wafted around amidst the endless silence and serenity of the woods.

"You can not build an empire on our land!"

"Raiya is not yours!"

"Give us our land back! Thieves! Robbers!"

They were young raffish-looking children to elderly males that were near dropping dead, and women that cried pitifully under the scorching sun with their little babes cradled to their chest. It was a tragic scene that pulled at the onlooker's heartstrings.

The Kingdom was theirs, and so were the dreams.

The man who was cloaked in the shadows of his mountain house witnessed the scene with eyes reddened with rage and anguish. One would have to read him closely to feel the waves of madness emanating from him. He stood there in all his glory, hands folded behind his back; a black shirt stretched taut against his shoulders. his lean torso highlighted the protruding sinews of his body, his head tilted up in calmness that hid an incoming storm. Black hair danced to the wind's song, and the chain that hung from his neck glittered under the sun's golden rays.

What dangled from the chain was a bow and in the arrow's stead lay an intricately carved wisteria twinkling in lush colors of violet.

He did not believe in vengeance.

He believed in justice.

➽───────────────❥

Mahrosh Khan paced back and forth in the kitchen barefoot with her yellow skirt swirling about her. The woman presented a picture of an earthly flower-child that one might find in an Earth Day Parade holding a "HIPPIE (noun) : one who embraces life to fullest and promotes love, peace, and happiness" sign. People called her "boho" and to some extent, it was true because she was indeed a free spirit, a lover of life's beauty, eccentric as well as unique in her own right. an artist who painted with her eyes closed and an adventurous wanderer who let the breeze decide her course.

But today, none of her crystals could soothe her frazzled nerves or restrain her anxiety from overtaking her mind. The small basket glinted under the chandelier: alone and sad. Lapis Lazuli, Pyrite, Amethyst, Onyx, Obsidian, and Opal were some of the few relaxants she kept at hand.

There was this constant cloud of doom and gloom that refused to leave the halo of her head this cursed day. Yes, she had anxiety and the doctors always had one thing to suggest: not to overthink and an array of sleeping pills when it got hyperactive. But this was different. She had a feeling something awful was conspiring against her or her loved ones.

Her poodle nipped at her feet, begging for crumbs of affection. But her mind was far too occupied with worst-case scenarios to pay the little mutt any heed.

Her father negated all her nightmares.

Of fire and a boy...

Her father might be stuck in one at this very moment.

She wore a violet peasant blouse with its top two buttons undone, her skirt fell on her shapely calves, leaving the silver Pandora anklet to twinkle with freedom.

The lustrous tresses of her chestnut hair were pulled back in a bandana with little fawns drawn on it. her lashes curved like a porcelain doll's on round hazel green eyes that changed color with her emotions; a smattering of freckles across her nose like pixie dust; A heart-shaped face was adorned with all that and a pair of red cupid's bow lips.

She was a wood-spirit, straight out of a fairytale book.

"Any news about Dad? He should've been here a long time ago." She plonked down on the sofa in a state of distress, eyeing her cousin Hamza who was busy cleaning his rifle. A heavily-muscled man in his early thirties, his olive complexion complemented his dark unruly hair. But the coldness in his eyes always sent chills down her spine.

There was a stale air of disuse in the room even though she'd been baking all morning and by now the house should have been smelling like pastries, pound cakes, and the pure simple scent of vanilla essence. But alas, they'd only been there for a few days and she needed to be more zealous if she wanted this Mediterranean structure to bear any resemblance of a place that thrived with human life.

"I think it's the rain, the roads are a mess. That reminds me, are you guys planning on renovating them any time soon?" Her best-friend Daniya asked wonderingly, munching on the dark chocolate cake placed before her.

She was a fire-cracker, droning on about fashion, her blog, and fussing over the engagement of her Instagram account. Mahrosh had insisted she accompany them to this little summer vacation that would span to five or six months, easily. Daniya distracted her with her jolly spirit and she needed that energy in her life.

"You do realize that building roads is no child's play, it requires effort as well as funds?" Hamza looked up from his current task to deliver a sarcastic remark. Sometimes, Mahrosh thought he liked goading other people into conversations where he'd come out a victorious know-it-all. The superiority complex raged.

"You have labor, and funds so vast even Manhattan's elite would be a little jelly so, yes, I'm aware." Daniya placed a hand on her head and nodded jauntily as if well aware of the opponent's tactics.

"Guys, stop. Faris, will you try dad's phone again? Maybe your network might catch a signal or two? Mine dropped dead as soon as the storm worsened." Mahrosh now addressed her other cousin who sat in the breakfast nook going through all the business files splayed on the table in front. His brows were steeped into a v and he looked perplexed.

Faris had a lean physique and homely face. Her brother Samar often said that he was a sixty-year-old man trapped in a thirty-year old's body.

"I've tried it a bunch of times, Mahrosh. There is no response. But please don't worry, Uncle has security and they know what to do in case of emergency," He replied absentmindedly, his attention riveted to the contents of the papers.

"Yes, I know but...I just have a bad feeling and I can't shrug it off." She mumbled helplessly, the anxiousness overwhelming her so much that she stood up in a bound before she started pacing back and forth.

"That's your anxiety speaking. Chill and enjoy the weather. The view from here is straight out of a Disney movie." Daniya called her by the french-windows that offered a magnificent view of the thundering storm.

Mahrosh walked over the wooden floor and sat on the velvet seats lined with intricate brocade work, the wooden table before embellished with carvings of vines and exquisite flowers. She gazed out at the endless forest, the realm of wondrous browns and kelly-greens. how could something make you forget about your waking nightmares by the mere sight of it?

"I'm more scared about the Robin Hood." Samar, her eighteen-year-old brother—who despite being seven years younger looked more like her older sibling—lounged on the spare seat having thrown them a bait to latch on.

"What did you say?" Daniya perked, her face lit up as if Christmas had arrived in the Monsoon season.

"The Robin Hood?" Samar leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially and eyeing them both for a reaction.

"Yeah, we heard you, smartass. I'm requesting an elaboration if you please," She said, leaning forward on her elbows.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as lightning jolted the sky, adding a theatrical drama to whatever conspiracy theory Samar was about to recite.

"Well, you didn't hear this from me but Faris and Hamza Bhai were conversing—"

"And you eavesdropped, of course."

"If you want to hear the rest of the story, you'll have to shut your trap."

"Samar. Behave," Mahrosh admonished softly, eyeing Daniya irritably. These two could never, not get, into a verbal sword-fight.

"Without further adieu, the short and simple of it is that there's a man out there who's trying to sabotage us and "help" the protesting villagers." He made finger quotes around the word "help", popped a Dorito into his mouth, and twisted around to see if his cousins could hear whatever blasphemy he was blathering.

"Wait a second. 'Protestors'? This is getting interesting."

Daniya and Mahrosh both were taken aback by the revelation. Sitting in the comfort of their house benefitted them with blissful ignorance. they knew nothing of the cozenage that was afoot outside in the rough terrains.

"There are people who think dad is doing them dirty and the land rightfully belongs to them so he can't construct a tourist destination there," He said with distaste as if appalled by their audacity.

Mahrosh was astonished, to say the least. her lips parted, the hair on her neck erect with the warning of foreboding disaster. Raiya was a bountiful land and her dad had promised to cherish, nurture it. Not pillage it.

"That's ridiculous. Uncle paid them all the rightful amount for the land sold. What's there to protest about? Economically, it's only going to benefit them. They should see it from that point of view." Daniya, the ever-wise, expressed her opinion like it was the only one that mattered.

Mahrosh willed a glance at the brothers sitting not too far from them, her mind a mush of doubts and suspicions. She felt guilty for harboring such ill thoughts for her kin but this wasn't the first time Hamza had landed into such a dispute

"But what if they don't want to be benefitted, my un-beloved? The people of Raiya are a weird bunch. How can a group of kids excel at archery? I almost lost my eye a few days back while I was on my Raiya Tour." He caressed the said eye reverently as if he couldn't believe it was still attached to its socket.

Daniya laughed, clutching her stomach, her pearly whites on display. She was a stunning woman who carried herself with effortless confidence and seldom wallowed in self-pity or depression.

"It's not funny, dumb ass." Samar snapped, sending her a dirty look.

"Your brother is insulting me here, a word?!" Daniya requested her intervention while pilfering through the bowl for an extra-coated spicy nacho.

"You both exhaust me." Mahrosh heaved a sigh, shaking her head in disappointment.

"What is she doing here, anyway? Wasn't this a family vacation?" He leaned towards Mahrosh, pretending to be secretive and quiet but he fully intended for the target to hear the words.

"Huh? The insults are getting too much." She feigned offense, stabbing Samar with deadly glares of mock outrage.

"Rain, rain go away, so Daniya can fly away. Yay!" Samar deconstructed the classic poem to use it as a tool to piss her off. the latter, as predicted, started throwing spicy, tangy Doritos on him.

The exchange would have been hilarious and entertaining if Mahrosh's mind hadn't been preoccupied with concocting dangerous, heartbreaking conclusions.

It was moments later when noises of a commotion outside reached their ears that they immediately knew who had arrived. Sighs of relief left them all slack as they rose.

Imad Khan opened the door to his house, his sopping wet frame instantly brightening the whole room with the power of his optimism.

"Look who's here!" He meant that announcement for himself but ironically, it suited the arrival of another being.

Mahrosh was half-way towards greeting her father when she saw him and went stock-still. The breath left her body in a whoosh: an impending panic attack or was it...nerves?

The stranger that appeared behind her father's back immediately demanded attention and appraisal from everyone in the room. His presence was overwhelmingly undeniable. He was taller than her father and cousins, towering over them intimidatingly.

His muscled, lean body was visible under the black leather jacket that was stretched along with the breadth of his wide shoulders. Wet sable hair was swept back from his creased forehead and his eyes...they reminded her of a lazy, silent, endless summer's midnight. A panther's gaze. Receptive and attentive, which did not miss a single action or movement.

He wore designer jeans that hung low on his hips and a black v-neck that was the smartest choice for his Adonis-like body. Hands with sharp-boned fingers, full lips, and a chiseled jawline cutting enough to slice through impressionable hearts. with every step he took, it seemed he left destruction in his wake. An unattainable, handsome man who might as well be as unreachable as the stars. You could look but never touch.

There was a mystery that surrounded him, as though some invisible jammers blocked her from unraveling the layers to his personality, how could you decipher a man who took great measures to stop you from probing too deep?

She shrugged the trance off with great difficulty, her eyes blinking like a newborn doe's. Who was he and...why did he look so familiar?

"Dad!" Mahrosh leaped forward to hug her father, forgetting all about his guest. "We've been worried sick, what took you so long?" She asked accusingly, her face a picture of ultimate distress.

"My heart, my little possum. It's a long tale so let's get some coffee to warm up. Then I can tell you all about it." Imad Khan patted his daughter's cheek with infinite tenderness, she had a special place in his heart and he was beyond overprotective of her.

"Introduce us to your guest, Uncle Imad." Daniya wiggled her eyebrows, the stranger the object of her attention even though the person in question beheld her best friend in his gaze raptly.

"God help us," Samar muttered under his breath, obviously attacking Daniya.

Mahrosh stood there idly, not wanting to look at him again lest she fell in the same whirlpool of emotions as she'd done previously. Such a weird, unexpected reaction. She mentally reprimanded herself.

"This gentleman here saved my life today, children. Mikail, these are my dutiful sons and my beautiful daughter." Her father smiled at the stranger fondly, sweeping a hand towards all of them.

Mikail's eyes surveyed everyone, soaking in the details for the foreseeable future when he'd need them. His aura paled everything around him. everyone who was guilty of something in their life would cower in fear.

"I'm Daniya—" she started but was rudely cut off by Samar.

"And I'm of no importance. I'm Samar though and apparently you saved my dad. Are you the Robin Hood the villagers speak of by any chance?"

Mikail shook Samar's extended hand, his grip strong and steady, like a man who cuts wood with an axe.

"Stop it, Samar." Faris came forward and nudged Samar aside, stopping him from droning on about his Robin Hood tirades. "Thank you for everything you've done. My curiosity is piqued though; what trouble did you run headfirst into this time, Uncle?" He queried curiously, intimidating by the man who oozed strength and power.

"Let them freshen up. they're soaked to the bone, they'll catch a cold. Samar, go show our guest to the powder room. -I'll go get him a change of clothes." Mahrosh hastened to change the subject, knowing very well her cousins would prod and poke until they had the whole tale written down.

"I'd love to avail myself to your hospitality but I'd hate to intrude," The man drawled softly, his voice deep and authoritative. It reminded her of obsidian nights, a throne of arrows, and the inhibited wild.

She looked at him then and immediately regretted it because she had a new view now: his side profile. His scruff was neatly trimmed, a thin silver chain peeking from the neck of his soaked shirt, half concealed by the collar of his leather jacket.

"You just helped my dad in a crisis when none of us were around him. this is the least we can do." She willed her tongue into action, speaking in a voice so polite it seemed as though canaries had nourished her.

She didn't know if he had set his eyes upon her because she had left his immediate vicinity to go bake vanilla cupcakes in the kitchen. Maybe the vanilla essence could drown the scent of aftershave, rain, and sweet gourmands.

Baking and anxiety shook hands and strolled off into the sunset.

"Mahrosh is right, give us a chance to show you our gratitude." This was Hamza, who'd finally come out of his cloak of rudeness.

"The rain isn't stopping anytime soon, looks like you're stuck here. Now tell us your tale of bravery, dark warrior." Daniya was shooting her chance, she always did.

"I'm sorry about her, man. She's not one of us. Our bloodline is untainted and pure."

You didn't have to work hard to guess who said that.

➽───────────────❥

The dining table was laden with dishes that ranged from baked goods; classic Italian cuisine recipes; steaks with mashed potatoes, sautéed veggies; South-Asian desi trademarks, and fresh grape juice that was made with the ripe fruit plucked from the garden.

Civil conversation echoed around the dining room along with the clanking of silver utensils, the room was bathed in spicy aromas and the distinctive scents of meat, vegetables, and cheese.

"It was on the road on the south-eastern bend, the tires got punctured by something in the slick mud. Mikail thinks it was because of the shards of glass used for window-making." Mr. Imad was narrating the whole accident, and he was curious about the foul-play but his voice did not betray that.

"That's hardly believable. What's the glass doing in Raiya? We don't have a glass factory here." Faris added his two cents peeking at the stranger from the corner of his eye. Everyone was curious about the enigmatic man with an attire that personified wilderness.

Mahrosh listened in keenly. There was a mystery to solve here. Her father had promised her that this business opportunity wouldn't harm the natural reserves of Raiya. He wasn't a profligate: she had to believe that.

"We don't. It's the same glass and material that was stolen from the construction site before the fire blazed rampant." Hamza hissed deadly waves of fury vibrating off him. His face was stretched tight with anger, crimson lines throbbing on his temple. A nerve ready to burst.

The pin-drop silence in the room ensued momentarily before Samar broke it, which was obvious to everyone now. Mahrosh risked a glance at the stranger and he looked to be contemplating something in deep concentration as well. An odd chill slithered down her spine.

"So, whoever did it went out of his way to steal and then sabotage dad's cars, scattering them on the route dad was bound to take to enter Raiya." He looked at his father, scared of his affirmative response.

"Precisely."

"This is straight out of Arrow. First, the fire—" Samar threw his hands up, his voice incredulous and a little shaky.

"Fire?" Imad sputtered, his eyes swung wildly between the sons of his deceased brother, also the people responsible for the construction of the resort.

Faris and Hamza exchanged looks that she wasn't able to decode but she had a feeling that someone in that room did. The flourite she was clutching gave her a burning sting, refusing to work its magic. she winced in pain, dropped it on the table; she was just glad no one noticed the peculiar mishap.

But someone's attentive perusal had taken in everything.

"We didn't want you to worry, Uncle, so I did not mention it. but it broke out in the east wing of the construction site, a setback of many weeks easily." He broke down the misconduct with details, his tone suggesting he was affronted.

"Who helped put out the fire?" The older man asked his nephew, his mind reeling from the developments. He wondered if his life was at stake even today and God had sent an angel in the form of Mikail.

"We used our own pipes. The men gathered and salvaged whatever supplies we could but there weren't many, to begin with. As I explained earlier, there was a robbery too." Faris folded his hands before his chin, a scene of sheer humiliated frustration.

"You're trying to say a vigilante is brewing trouble to upset your immaculately set plans? That's just ridiculous. This isn't a Disney movie. If it's mischief it's by fate itself. An accident, maybe?" Mahrosh finally joined the conversation but careened into safe waters, trying to dissipate the fear, horror, and hostility in the air

"What if it's really Robin Hood? How cool." Samar being Samar, as always, said something outrageously improper.

"Robin of Loxley was hanged by the King's Men in the real legend. Are we following the myth or the fairytale?" Daniya followed suit, lighting the air with her informative yet resourceful joke.

"If I have my way, I'll make a new classic tale for this bastard, one that mothers will tell their children to scare them to sleep." The words that tumbled from Hamza's mouth weren't suitable for dining table conversation and they poured a bucket of ice-cold water on their efforts to drop the depressing subject.

"Hamza, control your temper. We are not here to fight people, if someone thinks it's fun to do bodily harm, we'll let the police handle it, as per the law." Her father snubbed him at once, snapping at him when it was so unlikely of him.

"There is no dignity in fighting peasants, I was never worried about these little protests in the first place until today. We have to take immediate action. Whoever they are or he is, it's time they knew about our power too." He wasn't backing down either.

Mahrosh felt repulsion for the energy in the room, her eyes finding his again in an impulsive move so their stares clashed. His granite eyes bore straight into her warm hazels. She forgot how to breathe. She hung her head in shame and he masked his misstep by reaching for the water that was put in her direction.

"It's not a power struggle, Hamza."

Was it Faris who said that? Her mind was in a haze.

"From this point forward, for me, it is exactly that. Lambs don't go after lions." He vowed, looking like a caged animal.

"Lions inevitably depend on lambs for survival and if the latter becomes the one who roars, then it's the end of an era...an empire." The deep drawl had grave tones, and the words seemed to belong to a man who had all the knowledge of the world at his disposal.

She was mesmerized by the way his hands had handled all the cutlery with effortless elegance, his elbows were an inch away from being propped properly on the table as he cut through his steak. He was impeccable, and that dismantled her world.

"Are you trying... to scare us?" Hamza dropped his fork and knife, scoffing ludicrously, they clattered on the plate with a harsh sound and Mahrosh winced.

"That was not my intention," He said matter-of-factly as if least bothered by a child's temper tantrum.

"Tell us about your intentions, Mikail, who-appeared-out-of-nowhere." It seemed like Hamza wanted a fight, so he goaded and baited him into it.

"Hamza, he's our guest." Faris sent a pointed glance towards his brother, telling him to shut up.

"It's a fool's move to make enemies of people who'll determine the prosperity of your business, Mr. Khan." He was so calm, poised, and graceful. Respectful with his words all while putting the point across.

"There is an enemy out there already and I haven't even tooted the battle horn. Might as well fight, Mr—?"

"Mikail Durrani." His words were frosty.

Mikail Durrani. She mouthed the words inaudibly, trying to remember if she had ever seen him or heard of him before but for the life of her, she couldn't remember. And while she battled with her memories, a man looked at her expectantly.

"Wait for a second—? You own the Durrani Hill-Top House bordering on the far end of Raiya?" Samar almost squealed, his energy barely contained.

"I do."

Mahrosh wondered if he'd ever uttered a full sentence in that rough, manly voice of his.

"Holy shit, that architecture...who made that? I want the architect's number and name." Samar breathed out in awe, shaking his head in wonderment.

"I'm afraid I don't lend my services to others at the moment." He didn't look sorry but his words hinted at how humble he was in his refusal.

"Oh. My. God. So, it's you? The architect? I'm so blown away right now." He took in Mikail with a rapacious stare.

"Mikail, I must say I'm intrigued. Any chance you could show us your humble abode?" Mr. Imad was getting impressed by the second and the glint in his eyes conveyed that.

"Dad, you're inviting yourself over at this point." She smiled, butting inside the conversation in hopes he'd address her but....wait, what the hell was she thinking?

"Heck, I'm going to commit the same ill-mannered unpleasantry. Mikail, would you show us your house?" Daniya flirted with him, fluttering her eyes persuasively, smiling like a lunatic.

"I'd be happy to host you."

He was courteous but yet so impersonal, Mahrosh mused.

"I hope you find the delicacies worth your taste, Mikail." Faris put an end to the exchange with his edgy words as if he couldn't stand someone who was better at something than him.

"Thank you, it is splendid," Mikail said politely, giving away nothing of what conspired inside his mind.

"What do you do for a living? Where are your parents? You'd need a fortune to have built that monstrosity that's near suspended in the air. Are you a man of means?" The words rolled off his tongue bitterly. Hamza decided to rejoin the conversation but with rude questions. Everyone tensed at his words, sensing his ill-concealed dislike for their guest.

"Depends on your definition." Stoic.

"Are you rich, man?" Jealous.

"I survive." Chilling.

"That's not an answer." Challenge.

"Hamza." Mahrosh groaned in warning beside him, he was foregoing all table manners and etiquette in general.

She looked at Mikail then, who was simply unfazed by the questions and unwelcoming jabs of her cousins. He ignored everyone as if bored to death and only fulfilling a commitment. Was he eager to go back home?

Was he married? Did he have kids? Or maybe a girlfriend? A fiance?

She was lost in thoughts that disturbed her, making her heart pound with loss and sadness when darkness enveloped them. an icy gust of wind slammed open the windows. She hastened to go grab the candles, closing the windows on her way back to the table.

"Oh God, is this because of the rain?" Daniya wondered out loud.

"Has to be, this is the first power outage since we've arrived."

"Mahrosh?" Her father called out worryingly.

"Just a second, I'm coming."

She lit a candle and the scents immediately transported her into a new world. The soy wax had woodland notes with a subtle smokiness that reminded her of the historical romances she so dearly loved to read.

"My sister runs a super cool candle business. Her scents are out of this world. Which one is this again?" Samar boasted to the stranger, evidently proud of his sister.

"That's the Gate of Wisteria," Mahrosh informed, gliding around to the other side of the table where their guest sat and chanced a look at him. God, I've gone rogue.

His face was masked with a vulnerability, immersed in a long-forgotten memory for a fleeting moment. his eyes stared ahead into nothingness and Mahrosh found an open door to peer into, but much to her disappointment, he was back into his former freezing shell in no time.

When she leaned forward to light the candle, she caught a faint scent that was redolent with spice, reminding her of an English Gentleman's Club as well as the rough pine trees. Earthly divine, yet posh.

It described him perfectly.

"What's a Wisteria?" Hamza raised an eyebrow as if he caught them in the throes of something scandalous.

"It's a flower, my favorites. Actually, they used to grow in Raiya too but just a few bushes, they've multiplied now which is so amazing. They're almost everywhere. I remember when we came here as little kids, that's when my deep fascination with them took root." She remembered wistfully, a dreamy smile on her face. The candlelight added to her beauty.

"It smells heavenly." Daniya took a long whiff with her lips pursed and then she beamed.

Best friends were a blessing.

"My daughter is talented, I expect nothing less." Imad grinned, looking at Mahrosh fondly.

"I wish her talented traits helped her do some of that target archery she badly wants to. but she almost killed a real rabbit today instead of the prop."

"You really had to rub that in my face, Hamza?" Mahrosh masked her hurt behind an amiable facade, laughing the insult off like it did not hurt her innermost insecurity.

"I'm just pointing out that you're best at dainty and fragile feminine...things, and that's not a bad thing. You're going out of your way to prove yourself tough."

The unneeded opinion was so stingy, she outright ignored it and took her seat at the table. fingering the crystal basket and determining the injury, finding the balm.

"You can drown in your misconceptions, I don't owe you any explanations." She pretended to be fascinated with her food, so he'd finally leave her alone.

"Mikail, who owns the Archery Field near the forest?" The older man asked Mikail thoughtfully.

Mahrosh's head shot up, she looked at her father who was observing Mikail Durrani intently.

"It was actually my father's venture." The words seemed restrained.

No, no, no.

"And now it belongs to you—which solves it all—you can be the tutor. What do you think, Mahrosh?" Her father's joyous smile stopped her from cursing out loud. She swallowed nausea and smiled with fake cheerfulness.

"I..I'd love to. That is if Mr. Durrani is comfortable and not busy with other commitments or...family?" She ventured agreeably.

It was as if everyone on the table watched with bated breath for his response; some wishing for a positive one while some begged superior powers for him to say "No."

Please have a wife in your life. Please don't have a wife in your life.

She didn't know what she wanted.

"As luck would have it, I'm not." His tone was flat and you couldn't detect anything from it yet the straight-spined man's heart raced.

He'd sealed their fate.