All Chapters of The King's Sinful Obsession: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Monday, half past eight in the morning. The sky over New York was clear; the rain of the past few days had stopped. Today, for the first time since his father's arrest, Arian was returning to class. Over the last several days, his name had appeared many times in the media—some called him a hero, others a monster. But he hadn't paid attention to any of it. Today, he simply wanted to be an ordinary student.Raisa walked beside him. "Feeling nervous?""A little. But I've promised myself—I won't intimidate anyone anymore. I've only come to study.""You can do this."Zarif and Mayra were behind them. Emilie had also joined them. The five of them entered through the campus gate. Some students stood at a distance, whispering; others looked away. But Arian didn't get angry like before. He looked at everyone and smiled. A girl came up to him and asked, "Are you Arian Khan? The one who sent his own father to prison?"Arian stopped. "Yes, that's me.""People say you used to be very cruel. Is tha

Aaryan gazed out the airplane window, his reflection ghostly against the glass. Below, the clouds parted to reveal the sprawling expanse of New York City. The concrete jungle reached upward with obsidian skyscrapers and bridges that looked like silver threads draped over the water. Beside him, Raisa's grip on his hand tightened. She, too, was mesmerized by the vastness below."This is our new home," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engines."Our new battlefield," Aaryan corrected, his voice devoid of emotion.As the aircraft began its descent, the sudden change in pressure made Aaryan's ears pop. He swallowed hard, but Raisa didn't let go of his hand. When the tires finally kissed the runway, a sharp jolt surged through the cabin before the plane groaned to a gradual halt."Welcome to New York," the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom.Aaryan took a deep, steadying breath. Behind them, Zarif and Mayra rose from their seats, securing their carry-on bags.

The penthouse in Dhaka where Arian once ruled now smelled of flowers. Red rose garlands hung on the balcony, colorful tissue paper adorned the doors, and the walls were decorated in vibrant hues. The sound of the shehnai drifted from Raisa's room, where Maya was dressing her. Emilie stood behind with a sewing needle, ready to stitch any loose thread.Zarif made Arian stand up straight. "Smile a little. A groom's face shouldn't be this tense."Arian tried to smile, but his eyes were still wet. Last night, he had gone to prison. For one last meeting with his father. He still could not forget that scene.---11:00 PM, Keraniganj Central PrisonWhen Arian stepped inside through the heavy iron gates of the prison, his knees felt weak. Not like a regular visitor—he had come with special permission. Because Nurul Islam Khan was being transferred to another prison tomorrow morning. Arian wanted to see his father one last time before the wedding.

Arian stood before the heavy iron gates of Gazipur Central Prison. Half past seven in the morning; the sun hadn't fully risen. Mist lingered all around. A few days ago, he had submitted a formal application for the naming ceremony. The prison authorities had finally agreed—Nurul Islam Khan would be released from prison for one hour, under guard, solely to attend the naming ceremony. Arian himself could hardly believe that permission had been granted so easily. Perhaps because of his father's good behavior, perhaps because of Arian's new image, perhaps out of sympathy—whatever the reason, today he would bring his father home for his child's naming ceremony.Behind him, Zarif waited with the car. Raisa was at home waiting; Mayra and Emilie were getting things ready. Arian went alone to the visitors' office. He showed the documents and signed. A few minutes later, the inner door opened. Handcuffed, ankles shackled, two guards behind him—Nurul Islam Khan walked out. He wore sun

The letter had arrived one week before Abrar's first birthday. The prison authorities had informed them that, under special consideration, Nurul Islam Khan would be granted twelve hours of leave. Guards would accompany him, but there would be no obstruction in performing his duties as a grandfather. Arian had started crying when he read the letter. Raisa was breastfeeding Abrar at the time; looking at her son's face, she told her husband, "Tell Abbu we're waiting. We'll have everything ready."That week, the small apartment—so much smaller than the penthouse—buzzed with even more activity than usual. Mayra came to decorate the house, Emilie placed an order for sweets, Zarif did the shopping. This time, Zarif was spending from his own earnings—not from Arian's money as before. His small business was doing well; he had found his own footing.In the center of the room, a cake was set on the table. Bouquets of flowers, balloons, colorful ribbons. A separate chair had b