The village evening was settling in. The scent of damp earth mingled with the faint thump of a dholak from somewhere far away. A cool breeze brushed past, carrying dust and the distant voices of children playing… but for Sardar Abbas Khan, none of it mattered tonight. In his head, only one line echoed — "Ada Bai is about to sell young girls."
His black eyes sharpened with anger. He had always despised women from brothels, yet today he would have to walk straight into that world. Adjusting the folds of his crisp white shalwar kameez, straightening the turban on his head, he took his horse and rode towards Ada's kotha.
The heavy wooden door creaked as he pushed it open — and for a moment, his breath paused.
Ada… barely twenty-two, yet sculpted as if carved from moonlight. Her maroon backless blouse clung to her curves, held together at the back by nothing but a single thread. Her creamy midriff was exposed, framed by a border of delicate black lace that only highlighted the smooth fairness of her waist. And there, just above her hip, sat a small beauty mark — a deliberate-looking secret placed by God himself. Her green eyes shimmered beneath thick kohl, her small nose perfectly straight, lips the shade of rose petals. She moved with an ease that made even the simple act of crossing the room feel like a performance.
Abbas's gaze lingered on the beauty mark for a heartbeat… then rose to meet hers. Ada's eyes locked onto him — and stayed there. Broad shoulders under the pristine white kurta, skin pale under the lamplight, jaw strong enough to hold authority without a word. He had the stance of a man who could command a room without lifting a finger.
Ada walked closer, her anklets chiming softly. Without hesitation, she placed her leg casually across his on the sofa. The milky smoothness of her thigh, the daring neckline revealing the deep curve of her chest — she let him see it all.
With a slow, teasing smile she whispered, "If you marry me… I'll release those girls. The choice is yours, Sardar… take me, or I'll sell them. Although, truth be told… I'm starting to feel wicked toward you. I almost want to… take you right here."
Abbas's jaw clenched. Without breaking eye contact, he took off his long white coat and handed it to her. "Wear this… or go put on something decent. Then we'll talk."
Ada tilted her head, lips curling, "Why? Is your self-control slipping?"
The next moment was pure instinct. Abbas grabbed her wrist, pinning her firmly against the wall. Her waist — with that infuriating little beauty mark — was inches from him. His breath came harder, but he held himself back. "You won't survive my intensity… you'll scream."
Ada's smile deepened. "I can take it."
He placed the coat around her shoulders, his voice like cold steel, "Put it on. And give me the location of those girls."
She slipped it on slowly, never breaking the smirk. "First the wedding, Sardar… then you'll have all your answers."
The air between them was thick — scented with sandalwood from his coat and the faint perfume from her skin. Outside, the village noises faded, as if the night itself paused to see what Abbas Khan would choose.