The Adopted Enemy

The night was deep. The house silent. All the lights inside were switched off, except for the faint flickering of a yellow bulb in the corridor. And in that corner room—someone was searching, focused on something intense, on the laptop screen. The glow of the screen lit up his face. Rapid typing, heavy breathing—it was the sign of restlessness, the signal of an incoming storm. What was happening there? Was this a room, or some kind of award factory? The shelves were filled with trophies, medals, certificates of every kind. All of them belonged to someone named Riyan. And this young man at the desk—yes, he must be Riyan. The picture on the table confirmed it. Glasses on his sharp eyes. A plain white night-shirt, blending with his pale skin like salt and sugar—different, yet almost identical. His shoulder-length hair clung to his face and ears. His forehead creased, his brows tight. Every sign of a man completely lost in concentration. He looked perfect. Too perfect. But his teeth kept biting into his nails. Yes… Riyan had a problem. Confidence. Slowly his typing speed began to fall. The rhythm broke into short, uneasy clicks. On the screen, pictures appeared, documents, emails… His eyes grew darker with every click. Then suddenly—his fingers stopped. His eyes widened. On the document, bold letters stared back at him: “Adoption Record – Confidential.” His lips went dry. A few seconds of silence. Then a whisper: “No… no, this has to be a lie. It can’t be true.” But it was. He scrolled again. More files. More truth. Transactions hidden under his brother’s name. A letter with his mother’s signature: “He doesn’t belong to us…” Riyan froze. His chest grew heavier, his perfect fingers trembling. His jaw clenched but his teeth shivered. His clear eyes blurred with tears. He stared at the reflection on the screen. A flawless face. Sharp eyes. Strong body. But inside—shattered. Riyan stood up slowly. His eyes red, his chest pounding. He closed the laptop with a trembling breath. “This… how is this even possible?” His footsteps on the floor were careful, yet the wooden boards creaked beneath him. As he walked down the corridor, he noticed a faint light at the far end. It was coming from the drawing room. The door was half open. Voices. Familiar. His brother. Brother (whispering): “He’s starting to suspect, Mother… If this goes on, he’ll know everything.” Mother (in a low tone): “Quiet. If he finds out, it’s over for us.” Brother (hesitant): “But Mother… can we really hide the truth forever? One day he’ll learn he’s not one of us… That he’s just an adopted son. And that we’ve planned to kill him.” Through the crack, Riyan saw his brother’s shadow, fingers moving sharply as he spoke. His mother’s face was hidden in darkness—only her eyes glowed with a cold, strange light. Mother (coldly): “He will know, yes… but by then it’ll be too late.” A small breath escaped Riyan’s chest. “Hhh…” Both of them fell silent. Brother (suddenly): “Who’s there?” Riyan stumbled back into the shadows, his chest pounding. Inside his mind, one question screamed: “My own mother and brother… want me dead?” Brother (whispering): “Don’t worry, Mother. He hasn’t figured it out yet. And even if he does— He’s not our blood anyway.” A second strike to Riyan’s chest. His legs weakened. The world seemed to stop. Mother: “One mistake, and our trap will collapse on us. So think carefully. Use him while you can. When the time comes—he’ll be the sacrifice.” Brother (laughing quietly): “Family, family, that’s all he talks about… And he doesn’t even know who he really is.” Riyan’s knees almost gave way. Tears welled in his eyes. His throat went dry. “Me? So I’m nothing but…” He pressed his chest, as if holding his heart together. The family he trusted… now stood revealed as his enemies. Tears fought to come out, but his pride fought harder. In his head, their words kept echoing: “Adopted son… We planned to kill him…” He walked back to his room, collapsed on the bed, and buried his face into the pillow. Riyan (to himself): “Don’t cry. Crying won’t change anything. If I break now, I lose. You are alone. Yes, I’m alone. There’s no one here to help you, Riyan. …Don’t cry…” “So what if I’m adopted? So what if they lied to me all my life? It only means… I was never theirs.” His teeth clenched. His eyes turned red. “My own blood—my so-called brother— he wants me dead. And my mother played along.” He breathed sharply. “Alright… it’s fine. They wanted me gone, right? They started this. Now I’ll end it. Not with tears. Not with weakness.” He stood up, fists clenched. “From this moment… I am not their son. I am not their brother. I am alone. I am their enemy. Their only enemy. And I will fight this game alone— until my last breath. With honor. With fire. With everything I have.” His chest burned with rage. His eyes flared. For the first time in his life— Riyan felt true anger. He slammed the door shut behind him. A glass on the table shattered against the wall. His fists tightened. “Enough!” He couldn’t stay in that house anymore. He grabbed the keys and stormed down to the garage. There it was— his car. A black Range Rover Defender. Heavy body. Thick tires. A beast built for war. He threw the door open and sat inside. The engine roared to life— “GRRRRRROOOOMMMM…” Riyan gripped the wheel, pressed the pedal. The tires screeched, burning rubber. The car leapt forward like a warhorse charging into battle. The night highway lights blurred behind him. He didn’t slow down. He pressed harder. The car swayed left, then right— as if his fury was shaking the machine itself. The windows half-open, wind rushing in, tossing his hair. Even the night air felt unbearable. He slammed the windows shut. But the storm inside him raged on. One word echoed in his head— “Murder. Adopted. Betrayal. Alone.” Suddenly—a red light ahead. But in his eyes, it wasn’t a signal. It was fire. The reflection of his own explosion inside. He didn’t brake. He pressed harder. The car roared into the darkness. Destination? No one knew. Wet road Wide and long Highway Vehicles coming on one side, going on the other, In the dark of night, the car lights and road lamps seem to be in conflict, as if competing to dominate the darkness. Different types of engine-driven vehicles are moving forward at the driver’s accelerator’s push… Each vehicle’s speed expresses its own attitude, some passengers perhaps heading home after work, Others maybe lost in drunken laughter and mobile parties on wheels. And today’s weather doesn’t feel right either. So quiet… Not a leaf moves, not a gust of wind stirs. Ah… such peaceful surroundings. But is this silence a sign of peace? Or something else? Who knows… They say extreme quiet is a sign of impending danger. Others say nature gives a brief pause of calm before disaster. Who knows what fate this night carries? And that car over there… It has been stopped for a while. The driver, a gentleman, has been cautiously standing there, even facing the police… Look at the scene. What’s happening there??? “Inside the scene” Driver: “Brother, why don’t you believe me?” Police: “Really, you aren’t even saying anything believable. How could I trust you? Look, sir, I’m on night duty… Don’t take my head, okay? Go there, on the right side, there’s a good BBQ restaurant… Go and eat whatever you want, but leave my head alone…” Driver: “Ah, please listen to me, sir… let me explain.” Police: “Oh sir! There’s nothing to explain… Don’t waste your nonsense and irritate me.” Driver: “What did you say? Nonsense?” Police: “Exactly.” Driver: “You mean… I’m crazy?” Police: “Without a shred of doubt.” Driver: “How dare you!” Police: “A person who stops an on-duty officer’s car at this hour, and says such ridiculous things… what else could I call him but insane?” Driver: “Mind your tongue!” Police: “I’m not a film director, telling nonsense as I please. I’m a police officer, and I’m on duty.” Driver: “I can see that… but look officer, you are calling me cra—” Oh… what the… What’s happening? Police: “Oh my God… The car seems to have flipped… The driver and the officer were still arguing, voices rising, gesturing hands, the tension sharp in the cold night air. The tires on the wet road hissed slightly with each movement of the car. Then— A loud metallic screech. A deafening shudder through the asphalt. Both the driver and the officer froze mid-sentence. The car tilted violently to the right, smoke curling from the wheels, glass quivering in the frames. The driver’s hands instinctively clutched the hood of the car. The officer stumbled back, heart pounding, eyes wide. “Whoa! Step back!” someone screamed instinctively. “Car… it’s flipping!” yelled another. Quickly call an ambulance, mister!” Police Officer: “Hello, Jack reporting, there’s been a serious accident… hurry…” For those who say “time doesn’t need time to change,” this is a real example—the driver and the police are witnesses. The continuous “sho sho” of the tire as it slides into a narrow patch, shattering the complete silence into pieces, and amidst the argument between the police and the driver, a car’s brakes fail with a screeching, terrifying sound. It drifts and tilts to the right, rolling completely at least four times in a row… Glass shatters, the rear wheels still spinning at full speed. Smoke begins to rise. Like a metal beast hissing its hot breath into the freezing night, people unknown to the vehicle begin to brake, some out of curiosity, some to help. The accident spot on the long highway doesn’t stay empty for long… Ambulance services, fire services, police services— all on their way, and the crowd’s chaos grows. Police Officer: “Please, nobody come near! The car could explode! Everyone step back!” Driver: “Sir, someone inside might be injured! Let’s get them out!” Bystander: “Didn’t you hear the officer? It could explode!” “I’ll stay out of it, I need to survive first…” Driver: “Unbelievable… no one listens.” Police Officer: “Do you understand what you’re doing?? It’s extremely dangerous!” “Can’t you see the smoke?” Driver: “You could carefully check without creating more danger, couldn’t you?” Police Officer: “Wait quietly for the ambulance at the right time.” Driver: “Leave your ambulance, I’ll check myself.” Police Officer: “Don’t move an inch! Stay where you are!” Driver: “You’re ridiculous, officer!” Dhak dhak dhak Crowd: “Hey, sounds from the front seat!” Someone: “Go check the driver seat!” Another: “Oh, the front seat is still intact… maybe he’s alive…” Sounds intensify The sound of glass being broken grows louder, harder, more violent, like a heartbeat trying to escape a trapped chest, a mix of metallic screech and breaking flesh. Finally, the hero—Ryan—breaks the window. He jumps onto the road, stepping slowly like a zombie, bloody eyes, bloody mouth, hands raised forward, whispering something. Crowd: “What is he saying?” “Maybe asking for help…?” Driver approaches: “Ambulance is coming, just five minutes, okay? Hold on… don’t close your eyes.” “Okay? A little more… no, no… don’t close your eyes!” Police Officer: “Stop the bleeding! Bring my jacket… tie it on his head! He mustn’t bleed more!” Driver: “Nothing will happen… just a little longer.” Police Officer: “What? What are you saying?” Driver: (Listening closely to Ryan) “Say it…” Police: “What did he say?” Driver: “Too low… I didn’t hear… what?” Police Officer: “Step aside, let me hear. Mister… tell me what you’re saying.” After hearing, the police officer rushes to the shattered car, checks the front and back seat— but finds nothing. Still, the tension doesn’t ease. Pe pu pe pu pe pu Ambulance arrives. Driver: “Officer! Come help us!” Police Officer: “Yeah… hold him tight… okay Go!” Ambulance leaves. Police officer searches the road. Driver: “What happened? You’re suddenly searching.” Police Officer: “Nothing… just searching…” Driver: “I can see you’re searching, but for what?” Police Officer: “Not something… someone. Someone else should have been in the car besides him.” Driver: “But that’s impossible…” Police Officer: “Why?” Driver: “Mmm… I saw him at the very start of the road before meeting you.” Police Officer: “Really?” Driver: “Yes.” Police Officer: “But according to the victim, no one else should have been in the car.” Driver: “Did the victim say something?” “Oh yes… he said something to you… but what?” Police Officer: “He said…” Driver: “Hmm, he said what?” Police Officer: “He said… I’m not alone.” Driver: “I’m not alone… did he say?” Police Officer: “Yes…” Driver: “How is that possible?” Police Officer: “Exactly… I’m not alone.” (Whispering) “I’m not alone….”