Mellow man love

I kept asking myself—why had I never stopped thinking about Aamz? Why was he still there, haunting my thoughts despite everything?

I had suffered because of Dina, always serving her, always caught in the whirlwind of her decisions. But wasn't she, too, a victim of his influence? Everything she did, every choice she made, was shaped by him—by his ideals, his relentless pursuit of perfection, his extreme obsession with controlling every aspect of what he did and didn't do. It wasn't just love that had trapped her; it was the weight of his expectations, the way he made people orbit around him like he was the center of some unseen universe.

But wasn't a man like Farhad better? He was simple—straightforward. He had power, he had success, and most importantly, he knew how to enjoy them. No unnecessary complexity, no exhausting idealism. He didn't live in his head like Aamz did. He lived in the real world, taking what he wanted, shaping things to his advantage.

And yet, despite all that, my mind kept drifting back to Aamz.

I thought about his defiance, his casual rejections, the way he had dismissed me so effortlessly. Was it just my pride that couldn't accept being overlooked? Or was it something deeper?

I had convinced myself that revenge was my only path forward, that I needed to destroy what he had built just as he had dismissed everything I ever was. But as I sat there, lost in my own thoughts, a disturbing realization crept into my mind—what if this was never about revenge at all?

What if I just wanted him to look at me the way he had once looked at Dina?

I shook the thought away. It was ridiculous. I wasn't that naive girl anymore. I had made my choice, and now I had to see it through.

I picked up my phone and sent a message to Farhad:

"It's time to push harder. If he wants to leave, make sure every door is closed to him. Make him realize there's no escape except through us."

Farhad's reply came almost instantly:"Consider it done. But I need something from you, too. We're in this together, Dorsa."

I stared at his words, feeling the weight of what I had set in motion. Yes, we were in this together. And I was ready to go further than ever before.

Whatever it took, Aamz wouldn't just walk away.

I changed my mind suddenly. Something inside me shifted.

For the first time, I felt something different with Farhad—something real. Without warning, I went to him, surprising him. I stepped close, wrapped my arms around him, and held him tightly. That night, for the first time, I truly enjoyed being with him. It wasn't just about desire; it was about surrendering to the moment, letting go of everything else.

After, as we lay tangled together, I looked into his eyes and said, "Maybe you noticed that I wasn't always as intimate as I should have been. I was too caught up in things related to Aamz. But now, I know… I love you deeply."

My confession, my raw honesty, touched him. I could see it in the way his expression softened. He cupped my face and whispered, "Me too. And I want us to take steps forward…"

We made love again, over and over, as if trying to seal those words into reality.

Then, as the night stretched into dawn, he turned to me and said, "So… should I release him?"

I said, "Please, never let him complete his duties. I won't lie—I'll enjoy watching him struggle, seeing him fail again and again. A man who hates failure should drown in it."

Then I softened my voice, shifting closer to Farhad. "And us… Please understand, there's no space for us to show our love openly. Not yet. I'll spend more time with you, be yours completely, serve you in every way you like… but in secret."

He frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

I leaned in, tracing my fingers along his arm. "Think of it this way… Be my husband in secret. The king of my bed. But…" I paused, letting the words sink in. "Not Baran's stepfather. In private, I'll be more than just your wife. Completely yours. Do you accept?"

Farhad looked at me, his eyes narrowing as he processed my words. Then, slowly, a smirk formed on his lips.

"You're full of surprises," he said, pulling me closer. "But I like that."

I rested my head on his shoulder. "So, you accept?"

He ran his fingers through my hair, his touch possessive. "As long as you keep your word. I don't want any distractions—no more obsession over Aamz, no more revenge games. Just us."

I hesitated for a brief moment. Could I really let go of Aamz entirely? But I had Farhad now. He was powerful, devoted to me, and willing to play by my rules.

"Of course," I whispered. "Just us."

He kissed my forehead. "Then it's settled. And about Aamz—" he chuckled, "I'll make sure he never gets what he wants. You can enjoy watching him struggle for as long as you like."

I smiled, feeling a strange satisfaction. The game wasn't over. It was just beginning—on my terms.

I joked, "And our special marriage needs a huge gift!"

Farhad smirked, "Anything you want, my love."

I leaned in, my voice playful yet firm. "I want a thousand recordings of his misery."

He laughed, a deep, satisfied chuckle that sent a shiver through me. "That's a lot, but I love your taste."

We laughed together, the sound of it echoing in the dimly lit room. There was something intoxicating about this—about holding power over Aamz, about shaping his downfall piece by piece.

Farhad brushed a strand of hair from my face. "Consider it done."

I let out a slow breath. This was what I wanted—wasn't it? To watch Aamz fail, to ensure he never forgot what he owed me.