Claimed by the Brothers
2 sons
The air in the grand estate was thick with the scent of lilies and the heavy, suffocating silence of death. In the courtyard, the guests whispered in hushed tones, their eyes darting to the front row where the family should have been seated.
Four chairs were reserved for the men of the house. Only one was occupied.
Malik Khan, the patriarch, sat rigid. His hands gripped the silver head of his cane so tightly his knuckles were bone-white. His wife—the woman who had held this fractured family together with silk threads and sheer will—was in a casket ten feet away, and her own sons were nowhere to be found.
He beckoned a young woman standing near the pillars.
anahita(fl)
(Approaching with a bowed head) "Yes, Malik Sahib?"
ml dads
The ceremony begins in twenty minutes. The guests are staring. The mullah is waiting. And my sons… my blood… they disgrace her even now."
anahita(fl)
I will find them, Sahib. They are grieving in their own way."
ml dads
Grief is no excuse for cowardice! Go. Drag them here. If they do not come for their mother, tell them they will be dead to me before the sun sets. I only trust you to handle those animals. Go!"
Anahita didn't argue. She turned and hurried toward the east wing of the mansion, the heavy fabric of her traditional dress rustling against the marble floor.
Anahita reached the master suite. She didn't knock; there was no time for pleasantries. She pushed the door open just as the sound of running water stopped in the adjoining bathroom.
A moment later, Zabi stepped out. He was shirtless, a towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water glistening on his broad, scarred shoulders. His face was a mask of cold indifference.
anahita(fl)
Zabi Sahib. Your father is losing his patience. The funeral has started
zabi
Stopping in his tracks, his eyes dark) "The funeral started the moment she stopped breathing, Anahita. The rest is just a show for the neighbors."
anahita(fl)
It is a show you are required to attend. Please. Put on your suit."
Zabi walked toward her, his presence looming and predatory. Before she could react, he grabbed her forearm and shoved her back. Anahita stumbled, falling onto the plush velvet sofa.
anahita(fl)
(Towering over her) "You’re very bold today. Does my father’s favor make you think you own this house?"
He reached into a drawer, pulled out a stack of high-denomination bills, and tossed them carelessly onto her chest.
zabi
There. That’s for your 'troubles.' Now get out and tell the old man I’m busy."
Anahita looked at the money, then up at his arrogant face. Her hand moved like a flash of lightning.
SLAP.
The sound echoed in the room. Zabi’s head snapped to the side. Silence stretched between them, thick and dangerous.
anahita(fl)
Keep your money, Zabi Sahib. Today isn't about your ego or your father’s favor. It’s your mother’s funeral. If you have a soul left in that chest, you’ll be downstairs in five minutes."
Zabi touched his reddened cheek, a slow, terrifying smirk creeping onto his lips.
zabi
You’ve got fire, little maid. Careful it doesn't burn the house down."
Anahita didn't wait for his response. She hurried to the next room—the den of the middle son, Qais.
The smell of expensive Arak and stale smoke hit her before she even crossed the threshold. The bathroom door was ajar. Inside, the tub was overflowing, and Qais was slumped in the water, fully clothed in a white linen shirt, a half-empty bottle in his hand.
anahita(fl)
Qais Sahib! Wake up!"
qais
Slurring, eyes half-closed) "Ah… Anahita. The angel of the house. Come to join me? The water is… perfectly miserable."
anahita(fl)
You’re drunk. On today of all days? Get out of that tub right now."
qais
Why? So I can watch them put the only person who loved me into the dirt? No thanks. Come here, Anahita… give me a reason to stand up."
He reached out a wet hand to grab her dress, his expression shifting from playful to dark.
qais
"I don't have time for this
She saw a small, handheld electric milk frother sitting on a tray of coffee things near the door. It wasn't much, but it was plugged into the wall outlet by the vanity. She grabbed it, switched it on—the little coil buzzing violently—and stepped toward the tub.
anahita(fl)
Get out, or I drop this in the water."
qais
You wouldn't. You’d fry us both."
anahita(fl)
Try me. I’ve had a very long morning."
She lowered the buzzing metal tip toward the water’s surface.
qais
Wait! Wait! Are you crazy?!"
As the tip touched the water, a tiny spark flew. Qais let out a yelp of pure terror and scrambled out of the tub, slipping on the tile and crashing to the floor, soaking wet and suddenly very sober.
anahita(fl)
The black suit is on the bed. You have four minutes."
lap
The funeral service was a blur of black fabric and whispered prayers. Anahita felt the weight of Zabi’s gaze on her back like a physical heat, and the damp, alcohol-scented presence of Qais nearby made her skin crawl. She needed to get back to the kitchen to prepare for the Khatam (memorial meal), but the house was a labyrinth of tension today.
She was running down the hallway, her breath coming in short gasps, her mind racing with the tasks Malik Khan had set for her.
anahita(fl)
(Whispering to herself) "Bura, Anahita! Zud bura!" (Go, Anahita! Go fast!)
As she rounded a sharp corner near the private library, her foot caught on the edge of a heavy Persian rug.
anahita(fl)
Ya Allah!" (Oh God!)
She tumbled forward, unable to stop her momentum. She didn't hit the floor. Instead, she slammed into something metallic and leather, landing squarely on a pair of legs that felt as stiff as stone.
A cold, thin hand immediately gripped her shoulder, pushing her back with surprising force.
idris
Chi mekuni? Az pesham dur sho!" (What are you doing? Get away from me!)
Anahita looked up, her face flushing crimson. She was sitting on the lap of Idris, the third and youngest brother. He sat in a sleek, motorized wheelchair, his face pale and sharp, his eyes like chips of ice. Unlike his brothers, he hadn't been in the bathroom or the tub; he had been hiding in the shadows of the library, watching the world with bitterness.
anahita(fl)
Bubakhshen, Idris Sahib! Ma ghaltidom..." (Forgive me, Idris Sahib! I tripped...)
idris
Tu hamesha iqadar be-parwa asti?" (Are you always this careless?)
He glared at her, his jaw tight. He hated being touched, hated the reminder of his immobility. But before Anahita could scramble off his lap, heavy footsteps echoed in the hall.
zabi
Dasteta az bala-ish bardar." (Take your hands off him.)
Zabi stood at the end of the hall, his suit jacket off, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms. Behind him, Qais appeared, still looking slightly disheveled but leaning against the wall with a predatory grin.
zabi
Bia peshe ma, Anahita. Idris ba tu zarurat nadara." (Come to me, Anahita. Idris has no need for you.)
idris
(Hissing at his brothers) "U peshe hech kodam-tan namera." (She isn't going to either of you.)
The three brothers stared at each other. The air was thick with a rivalry that had existed long before Anahita arrived, but now she was the spark.
zabi
(Approaching with a dark look) "Ma goftom u-ra ba ma beti." (I said, give her to me.)
Zabi reached forward, but instead of helping Anahita up gently, he grabbed her arm and yanked her off Idris’s lap so hard she hit the marble floor with a painful thud.
idris
(Towering over her, his voice a low growl) "Tu ikhraji! Az peshe chashmom dur sho!" (You’re fired! Get out of my sight!)
anahita(fl)
(Looking up from the floor, trembling) "Sahib, ma mazerat mekhwayom..." (Sahib, I apologize...)
idris
Ba khatere tu ma na-waqt shodom. Tu yak moshkel asti." (Because of you, I became late. You are a trouble.)
ml dads
BAS KONIN!" (ENOUGH!)
The voice of the patriarch boomed through the hallway. Malik Khan stood there, his cane thumping against the floor. He looked at his three sons—the angry Zabi, the drunken Qais, and the bitter Idris—and then at the girl on the floor
ml dads
(To his sons) "Shuma mard astin ya koshok-ha?" (Are you men or children?)
ml dads
Ma mazerat mekhwayom, Anahita. In-ha naliq astin." (I apologize, Anahita. These ones are unworthy.)
He turned back to his sons, his face turning into a mask of cold calculation.
ml dads
Shuma sar-e i dukhtar jang mekunin? Khub ast. Ma ba shuma yak shart darom." (You fight over this girl? Fine. I have a bet for you.)
The brothers fell silent. Even Idris stopped trying to maneuver his chair.
ml dads
Anahita dukhtare khub ast. Pak-dil ast. Har kodame shuma ki betana u-ra ashiq-e khod burtana... u soheb-e tamame malkiyat mesha. Digar-ha az khana kashida meshan." (Anahita is a good girl. Pure-hearted. Whichever of you can make her fall for you... he will get the biggest share of the inheritance. The others will be kicked out of the house.)
The brothers gasped. This wasn't just about a maid anymore; it was about the Khan empire.
ml dads
Wa yak gap-e digar. Ta u waqt, shuma bayad ba yak-digar khub bashin. Hech jangi nabayad basha. Anahita, bura wa ghaza-re tayar ko." (And one more thing. Until then, you must be good to each other. No fighting. Anahita, go and prepare the food.)
As soon as their father turned the corner, the "peace" vanished. Zabi and Qais looked at each other, then at Idris in his wheelchair.
zabi
Bibakhsh, biradar..." (Sorry, brother...)
idris
Chi mekunin?" (What are you doing?)
Zabi stepped behind Idris’s wheelchair. With a swift, cruel motion, he engaged the manual locks on the wheels and reached underneath to pull a specific wire from the battery pack. The digital display on the armrest went dark.
idris
Zabi! In-ra pas badeh!" (Zabi! Give that back!)
qais
(Patting Idris’s shoulder coldly) "Tu dar i musabiqa nesti, Idris. Inja baman wa fakar ko." (You aren't in this race, Idris. Stay here and think.)
zabi
(Laughing as he followed Zabi) "Shab-e khosh, biradar-e kochak." (Goodnight, little brother.)
They walked away, leaving Idris stranded in the middle of the dark hallway, his hands clutching the useless armrests of his chair, his eyes burning with a new, vengeful fire.
bros winning
Anahita was in Qais’s room, trying to focus on her work. The middle brother’s suite was a chaotic testament to his lifestyle—silk shirts thrown over velvet chairs, empty crystal carafes, and the heavy scent of expensive sandalwood and tobacco.
anahita(fl)
To herself, scrubbing a table) "Faqat kar-e khoda khalas ko, Anahita. Bad az u bura." (Just finish your work, Anahita. Then leave.)
Suddenly, the heavy oak door clicked. The sound of a deadbolt sliding into place made her heart drop. She whirled around.
Zabi was standing there. He wasn't wearing his funeral suit anymore. He wore a dark, silk tunic, and his eyes were no longer cold—they were shimmering with a forced, terrifying sweetness.
anahita(fl)
(Voice trembling) "Zabi Sahib? Chura dar-ra basta kadi? Ma bayad buraum." (Zabi Sahib? Why did you lock the door? I have to go.)
zabi
(Smiling, holding a silver key) "Aram bash, Anahita. Ma faqat makhwayom hamra-it nan bokhorom." (Stay calm, Anahita. I just want to have dinner with you.)
zabi
He clapped his hands, and two younger servants—clearly bribed or threatened—entered through the servant’s passage, carrying a small table draped in white linen. They set it in the center of the room, lit two tall candles, and vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
anahita(fl)
In yak mazaq ast?" (Is this a joke?)
zabi
Nay. In yak ehtiram ast." (No. This is respect.)
He pulled out a chair for her. Anahita’s mind raced. If she screamed, Malik Khan might hear, but Zabi was his favorite. She realized she had to play along to find the key. She sat down, her eyes darting to his pockets.
zabi
Tu khub malum meshi, Anahita. Hata dar i lebas-e sadah." (You look good, Anahita. Even in these simple clothes.)
He poured two glasses of dark, expensive wine. Anahita took a sip, the liquid burning her throat. She needed to distract him.
anahita(fl)
(Acting shy) "Zabi Sahib... Shuma chura i kar-ra mekunin? Shuma hamisha az ma bad-tan miyamad." (Zabi Sahib... why are you doing this? You always hated me.)
zabi
Leaning in, the candlelight reflecting in his dark pupils) "Ma ishtebah mekadom." (I was wrong.)
He reached across the table, his fingers grazing her hand. Anahita felt a shiver, but not one of romance. She looked into his eyes. He had long, dark lashes and a gaze that felt like it could swallow someone whole.
anahita(fl)
No wonder girls fall for him. He has something in his eyes... a deepness. But it’s hollow. Why does he want me?"
anahita(fl)
Agar ma baraye shuma mohem astom... bogen nam-e ma chist?" (If I am important to you... tell me, what is my name?)
Zabi’s hand froze. His smile faltered. He opened his mouth, but only silence came out. He had called her "maid" or "girl" for so long, the actual name—Anahita—had slipped through his arrogant mind.
zabi
Nam-e tu... tu medani ki ma..." (Your name... you know that I...)
qais
(Voice booming from the servant’s entrance, laughing) "Nam-esh Anahita ast, Zabi! Tu hata nam-e 'ishq-e khoda' namadani?" (Her name is Anahita, Zabi! You don’t even know your 'love's' name?)
Qais stepped out from the shadows, leaning against the bedpost. Zabi stood up, his face turning a dark shade of purple.
zabi
Tu inja chi mekuni?" (What are you doing here?)
qais
In otaq-e ma ast, biradar. Wa i dukhtar... u ham dar otaq-e ma ast." (This is my room, brother. And this girl... she is in my room too.)
Zabi growled, grabbed the key from the table, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He had lost this round.
The room fell quiet again, but the tension didn't leave. Qais walked over to the table and poured himself a large glass of wine, then sat in the chair Zabi had occupied.
qais
Zabi mard-e khushk ast. U dil nadara." (Zabi is a dry man. He has no heart.)
anahita(fl)
Wa shuma? Shuma dil darin?" (And you? Do you have a heart?)
qais
Ma hama chiz darom! Bibin, Anahita. Otaq-e ma ra bibin. Inja buzurg-tarin 'bar' dar tamame Kabul ast. Wa i takht-e khob... tu hech-waqt iqadar narm-i ra nadidi." (I have everything! Look, Anahita. Look at my room. Here is the biggest bar in all of Kabul. And this bed... you’ve never seen something so soft.)
He was bragging like a child, trying to impress her with gold and alcohol. Anahita felt a surge of annoyance. She finished her wine in one gulp, the alcohol making her bold.
anahita(fl)
Ma ba i chiz-ha zarurat nadarom. Shuma fikr mekunin ki ma ba khatere yak takht-e narm ashiq meshom?" (I don't need these things. You think I’ll fall in love because of a soft bed?)
qais
Standing up, walking toward her) "Ma faqat mekhwayom ki tu razi bashi." (I just want you to be happy.)
anahita(fl)
Shuma dil nadarin, Qais Sahib. Shuma faqat nashi hastin." (You don’t have a heart, Qais Sahib. You’re just drunk.)
She turned to leave, but the wine had made her slightly dizzy. As she swung around to find the door, she tripped on her long skirt. Qais reached out to catch her.
He grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against his chest to stop her from falling. In the clumsy scramble, his face dipped down at the same moment she looked up to apologize.
Their lips met.
It wasn't a scripted, romantic kiss. It was accidental, messy, and shocking.
Anahita froze. Qais’s eyes widened. For a split second, the arrogant, drunken mask he wore shattered. His hands trembled on her waist. He looked... nervous. Human.
anahita(fl)
(Pulling away instantly, breathless) "Ma... ma bayad buraum." (I... I must go.)
qais
(Stuttering, his face pale) "Anahita... ma... bibakhsh..." (Anahita... I... sorry...)
Anahita didn't wait. She bolted for the door—which Zabi had left unlocked in his rage—and ran down the hall until she reached the safety of the dark kitchen.
She leaned against the cold stone wall, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She touched her lips, the taste of wine and Qais’s cologne lingering there.
anahita(fl)
(Whispering to herself) "Khob shod ki baraye yak daqiqa sharmidi, Qais. Khob shod ki nishan dadi ki tu ham mard asti." (I'm glad you felt ashamed for a minute, Qais. I'm glad you showed you are also a man.)
anahita(fl)
She closed her eyes, tears of frustration pricking them.
anahita(fl)
Lekin chura? Chura shuma biradar-ha az peshe ma dast namibardarin? Ma faqat yak khidmatgar astom." (But why? Why won't you brothers leave me alone? I am just a maid.)
She knew the answer. It wasn't love. It was a game. But that small moment of nervousness in Qais's eyes... that was the first real thing she had seen in this house since the funeral began.
And she still hadn't found Idris.
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