Shadows of the Past
861 Words
Zuwena arrived at ZeniTech before the sun had fully risen. The city still yawned under the sleepy veil of dawn, but inside the towering building, everything pulsed with sterile energy. Her heels clicked on the shiny floors, echoing her presence in a place that still didn’t feel like hers.
She made her way to her desk and opened Ayaan’s itinerary, already color-coded from the night before. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to adjust a lunch meeting, when a folder fell from the edge of the table. Its contents spilled pages with stamps, signatures… and one photograph.
Her heart stopped.
The photo was old. A man in a brown jacket, smiling, holding a baby. She knew that jacket. She knew that smile.
It was her father.
Her throat tightened. Why was this file on her desk? And why did it have the Khalid Foundation seal?
She bent quickly to collect the documents. One page caught her attention:
“Nassor Juma: Suspected breach of internal protocol ZeniTech Nairobi Branch, 2004.”
She froze. Her father never talked about what ended his career. He just… stopped working one day and became a shadow in their home. She had always assumed he was laid off. But a breach? A scandal?
She tucked the file back in place just as Ayaan’s door opened.
“You’re early,” he said, glancing at his watch.
“So are you,” she replied softly, straightening.
He gave her a look she couldn’t read. “Come in. We have to discuss the investor reports.”
Zuwena followed him in, head spinning. The air in his office felt colder today or maybe it was just the weight of what she had seen.
An Unexpected Question
“Sit,” he said, tossing a tablet her way. “What do you know about East Africa’s new mobile banking policies?”
She caught the tablet mid-air, barely hiding her surprise. “They’re increasing digital tax rates. Smaller companies will suffer. Multinational platforms will benefit… unless they diversify.”
Ayaan raised an eyebrow. “You read reports at night?”
She shrugged. “Curiosity doesn’t sleep.”
He smiled faintly. “Neither do I.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Charged. Quiet.
Then he stood, walked to the cabinet behind his desk, and pulled out a box.
“Your desk has been updated. New access card, upgraded devices. Welcome officially.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He looked at her. “You can call me Ayaan.”
She blinked. “Really?”
His eyes softened, just slightly. “Not in meetings. But here… I’m just a man running on espresso and deadlines.”
She allowed herself a smile. “Okay… Ayaan.”
It felt strange on her tongue. Too personal.
He sat again. “There’s a gala tonight. You’re on the list. I want you there.”
Her smile vanished. “A gala?”
“It’s important. Investors, board members… They’ll expect my assistant.”
Zuwena hesitated. “I don’t have I mean, I don’t own anything suitable for
“Check with HR. Tell them to charge the company card. You’re representing ZeniTech. Dress like it.”
He said it so casually, but Zuwena felt her world shift. This was no longer a job. It was a stage.
That Evening – The Gala
The ballroom glowed with chandeliers and laughter. Champagne flutes danced between manicured fingers, and violins whispered in the corners.
Zuwena stood at the entrance, wrapped in a deep emerald gown that clung modestly to her curves. Her curls framed her face naturally. She looked nothing like the girl from Buguruni.
People stared. A few whispered. She felt them watching her like she didn’t belong and maybe she didn’t. But Ayaan’s voice at her back grounded her.
“You clean up well.”
She turned. He was in a midnight-blue tuxedo, eyes calm, mouth unreadable.
“You too,” she replied, trying not to choke.
They moved through the crowd together. He introduced her only when necessary, letting her observe. Learn. Absorb.
Then, she saw her.
Rehema Khalid.
Poised. Dressed in ivory. Smiling with a predator’s calm.
“And who’s this charming beauty beside you, Ayaan?” Rehema asked sweetly, her eyes never leaving Zuwena’s face.
“My new assistant,” he replied. “Zuwena Nassor.”
Rehema’s lips stiffened, almost imperceptibly. But her smile returned. “Lovely to meet you.”
Zuwena forced a polite smile. “An honor, ma’am.”
Rehema leaned in slightly, voice low. “Enjoy the night, my dear. But remember, some stories don’t end well for girls like us.”
Before Zuwena could respond, Rehema walked away, sipping her wine like nothing had happened.
Later That Night
Back in her small apartment, Zuwena removed her heels and sat silently.
The dress was on the chair. The makeup fading. But the storm in her chest wouldn’t rest.
She took out the old photo again. Her father. Ayaan’s family.
What if this job wasn’t just fate? What if her being there was connected to something deeper a buried truth waiting to resurface?
She didn’t know.
But she would find out.
Even if it broke her.
- Writer
