The hotel room in Cox’s Bazar was a snug little trap, the kind of place that felt like a hug you didn’t ask for. Rain hammered against the window with the persistence of a scorned lover, the stormy beach outside a gray blur of waves and wind. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood and old carpet, the peeling wallpaper curling at the edges like a secret waiting to spill.
Riyad sprawled across the bed, one leg dangling off the edge, flipping through a hotel magazine so outdated it might as well have been a relic. His dark eyes skimmed over ads for long-closed restaurants, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as the rain’s relentless drumming filled the silence. He looked utterly unbothered, a picture of idle youth.
Farida, on the other hand, was a storm of her own. She paced the cramped room like a caged panther, her crimson saree swishing with every sharp turn, the gold bangles on her wrists clinking in rhythm with her frustration. Her sharp features were set in a scowl, her full lips pursed as she muttered under her breath. “I didn’t drag myself all the way to the beach to stare at this godforsaken wallpaper. Honestly, Riyad, are we on vacation or in purgatory?”
Riyad didn’t look up from his magazine, though his smirk widened. “Relax, Ma. It’s just a little rain. You’re acting like the world’s ending.”
She stopped dead in her tracks, hands slamming onto her hips as she fixed him with a glare that could melt steel. “A little rain? It’s a bloody monsoon out there, and you’re just lying there like a lazy lump. Won’t even entertain your own mother on a boring day like this. What kind of son are you?”
He finally tossed the magazine aside, propping himself up on his elbows with a mock-offended look. “Oh, come on, you drama queen. If the rain doesn’t stop soon, you’ll probably start a hurricane in here yourself. I’m just trying to stay out of the blast zone.”
Farida’s glare cracked into a laugh, sharp and bright, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. She stepped closer to the bed, looming over him with a challenging tilt of her head. “Is that so? Well, if I’m a drama queen, you’re a court jester without a single trick up your sleeve. Come on, impress me. What’ve you got to kill this boredom before I start tearing down the walls?”
Riyad sat up fully now, rubbing the back of his neck with a playful grin. “Alright, alright, Your Majesty. How about a game of cards? I’ve got a deck in my bag. Unless you’re scared I’ll beat you, of course.”
She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, the movement accentuating the curve of her figure in a way that made the room feel a notch smaller. “Scared? Boy, I’ll wipe the floor with you before you even finish shuffling. Deal ‘em out, let’s see if you’ve got any game at all.”
They settled cross-legged on the bed, the deck of cards splayed between them, the mattress dipping slightly under their combined weight. Farida’s competitive streak roared to life as soon as the first hand was dealt. Her fingers moved with precision, snapping cards down with a flourish, her eyes glinting like a predator toying with prey. “You’re done for, Riyad. Might as well fold now and save yourself the embarrassment.”
Riyad groaned as she claimed yet another win, tossing his cards down with exaggerated despair. “This is rigged! You’re cheating, I know it. No one’s this lucky.”
She cackled, a wicked, throaty sound that filled the room, leaning back on her hands with a triumphant smirk. “Cheating? Oh, please. You’re just a sore loser with no game. Should’ve known better than to challenge me, darling. I play to win.”
Outside, the rain intensified, a deep rumble of thunder rolling through the air like a warning. The room seemed to shrink around them, the dim light casting soft shadows across Farida’s sharp cheekbones. Their banter crackled like static, charging the space with an electric heat that neither of them quite acknowledged.
As they started the next round, Farida leaned closer over the cards, her blouse slipping just enough to reveal a hint of smooth, bronzed skin at her collarbone. Riyad’s gaze flickered there for a split second before he caught himself, his throat tightening as he fumbled with his cards.
She noticed. Of course she did. Her eyebrow arched, a sly, knowing smirk curling her lips as she sat back, her posture all confidence. “What’s this? Blushing like a schoolboy who’s never seen a woman before? Come now, Riyad, I thought you were made of sterner stuff.”
He sputtered, a flush creeping up his neck as he tried to salvage his dignity. “I’m not blushing, okay? You’re just… an old tease, that’s all. Trying to distract me from your cheating ways.”
Her smirk widened, her voice dropping to a low, teasing purr. “Old tease, am I? Careful, boy, I’ve got more tricks than you can handle. And don’t think flattery will save you—I’m still going to crush you in this game.”
She leaned forward again, her presence commanding, her eyes locking with his in a way that made his pulse stutter. “Tell you what. Let’s up the stakes. If I win the next round, you’re mine for the rest of the day. Whatever I say, you do. Deal?”
Riyad laughed, though it came out a little shaky, his hands pausing over the cards as he met her gaze. “You’re on. But don’t cry when I turn the tables, Ma. I’ve got some tricks of my own.”
Her grin was pure mischief, a promise of trouble wrapped in a challenge. “Oh, I’d love to see you try. Deal the cards, darling. Let’s see who’s really in control here.”
As the next hand was played, the rain outside roared louder, the storm mirroring the undercurrent of tension building between them. Farida’s sly look as she laid down her first card told Riyad everything he needed to know—he was in way over his head, and she was loving every second of it.
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