[Under Editing]
*Ruthless Mafia x innocent girl*
Sheza Khan youngest daughter of Kabir Khan, a minor gangster. . She is eighteen years old. She is a calm and peaceful yet naive-minded girl. Not being treated well, she is an innocent and very shy typ...
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|Breakfast|
"Good morning, I am Sheza Kha-
"Sheza Saad Junaid Khan," ( I am feeling butterflies in my stomach, uwu)
The dark, feminine aura that surrounded Sheza's mother-in-law was palpable. It exuded an air of mystery and authority, casting a chilling and oppressive atmosphere in the kitchen. Her presence felt like an impending storm, with an unsettling coldness that sent shivers down Sheza's spine.
The calm, stoic expression on her face masked a hidden intensity, and her charcoal eyes held an unspoken threat that seemed to pierce through the very soul.
"Assalaamu 'Aleykum," her eyes momentarily diverted to the hoodie's paws and toes.
Her fingers traced the intricate patterns of the fabric, a subtle sign of distraction, perhaps. She circled the black glossy tile beneath her, lost in thought, a habit she couldn't help but fall into.
The quiet sound of her fingernails lightly brushing against the hoodie's surface was the only break in the silence.
"Hmm, "In the midst of that tense atmosphere, Sheza's mother-in-law broke her gaze, she let out the word and gestured the maids to go out from there and said a cold bone-chilling tone.
"Do not forget who you are; keep that in the small brain of yours, am I clear?"
Sheza's frequent nods were filled with a tangible sense of dread. Her anxiety was evident in the way her movements seemed almost mechanical as if she was trying to navigate a delicate and perilous situation, then she asked.
"What do I have to make for breakfast?"
"What do you usually make for breakfast at your house?" As she sipped her coffee, her intense gaze fixed firmly on Sheza, she finally spoke, her voice cutting through the silence like a sharp blade.
"I usually make Indian-style breakfast," she said, Maira, aka Mrs Junaid, nodded.
"Make what is 'your' favourite," cold smirk on her face, Sheza's mother-in-law placed her coffee mug on the table and gracefully rose from her seat. Her departure only added to the enigmatic atmosphere, leaving Sheza with a sense of unease and a multitude of unanswered questions. As she walked away, her departing figure seemed to embody an aura of mystery and power, leaving Sheza in the wake of her imposing presence.
Sheza stood there dumbfounded and began to make all her favourite dishes with less spice because, you know, Indians are known for their indigent and spiciness, and white people can't handle the spice that much (*smirk*).
Sheza's favourite food had been missing from her life for years. The memory of its taste and the longing for that familiar flavour must have been a constant ache, a reminder of the passage of time and the sacrifices she had made. The absence of something so cherished added another layer of melancholy to her already complex situation.
