I hired a fast-moving taxi to head toward the market.
The busy city rushed past outside the window, but the storm inside my mind refused to settle.
The thought of going shopping with someone like Neel Chowdhury filled me with a strange mix of excitement and fear.
After getting down from the taxi, I stood in front of the grand entrance of Dhaka City Market.
My eyes scanned the crowd, searching only for that familiar figure.
But Neel Chowdhury was nowhere to be seen. Little did I know, this man had already planned everything for me in advance.
I couldn't have imagined that he would arrange the entire shopping before I even arrived.
Confused, I stepped inside and walked toward the reception desk. Just as I pulled out my phone to call Neel, a deep, commanding voice came from above.
"Sahana! Look up here."
I raised my head and saw him—standing on the first-floor railing, dressed in an expensive gray suit, with that same mysterious gaze in his eyes.
He gestured for me to come upstairs.
Though it sounded like an order, it sent a strange shiver through me. I hurried toward him, unaware of what was waiting.
As I rode the escalator upward, my heart pounded loudly. Step by step, Neel's tall, powerful figure became clearer.
But he wasn't alone. Beside him stood a massive man in a pitch-black suit, wearing dark glasses.
The man's cold, aggressive posture sent chills down my spine. For a moment, I didn't feel like Sahana—I felt like a criminal standing before a judge.
My fear intensified when I noticed what looked like a hidden gun beneath his coat.
Was he Neel's bodyguard? Or someone else?
As I approached, Neel didn't greet me.
Instead, he suddenly handed me four or five heavy shopping bags filled with expensive branded items.
The weight made my hand drop slightly.
"Take these and go home immediately. Be ready by 8 PM wearing these.
I'll come to pick you up myself," he said.
There was no request in his tone—only command.
His arrogant, controlling behavior kept hurting my self-respect again and again.
It felt like I was some kind of possession he owned. Yet, I didn't have the strength to protest. Holding the bags tightly, I turned and walked away.
After a few steps, curiosity forced me to look back.
Neel was still standing there, his cold gaze fixed on me.
From a distance, it seemed like a faint, crooked smile played on his lips—as if he was plotting something cruel.
I had no idea what this mysterious man had planned for me tonight.
As soon as I got out of the taxi, I rushed into the house.
The bags in my hands felt like a toxic burden, as if they were tearing my fingers apart.
I shut the door and threw them onto the bed.
I didn't even want to look at them, but Neel's command and his mysterious gaze made me curious.
I unzipped the largest bag and took out the first dress—and my heart almost stopped.
Was this even a dress? Or just a piece of cloth?
It was so short it ended far above the knees.
The upper part barely existed. I had never seen such revealing clothes in my life.
Wearing this would mean exposing myself completely in front of everyone.
I opened another bag and found a pair of expensive high heels—so tall that I doubted I could even take a single step in them.
But the biggest shock came when I opened the last bag.
Inside was something that looked like lingerie—but not something meant to be hidden.
It seemed like a modern outerwear piece that had to be worn visibly.
My cheeks flushed red with shame and humiliation.
Without realizing it, I muttered, "What is wrong with Neel Chowdhury? Such tiny clothes! Can any decent person wear this in public? This is just… indecent!"
I sat down on the bed, my whole body trembling.
Was Neel trying to humiliate me? Or was he planning to turn me into a showpiece in front of Rushda?
There wasn't much time left before 8 PM.
The thought of stepping out in these clothes made me feel suffocated.
With trembling hands, I tried to adjust those strange, revealing outfits onto my body.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt ashamed of my own reflection.
At that exact moment, my phone rang again.
Neel.
From the other side, his familiar deep, slightly relaxed voice came through—
"Sahana, are you ready? I've already left. I'll be there shortly to pick you up."
My heart skipped a beat.
The thought of standing in front of him in this outfit made my hands and feet go cold.
But there was no way out now.
I was trapped in a maze.