Chapter Two: Questions Without Mercy
835 Words
Sleep abandoned Zayn Al-Kareem that night.
London lay silent beyond the glass walls of his penthouse, the city lights blurred by a storm he could not quiet inside his chest. He stood by the window, hands clenched behind his back, replaying the same image over and over again.
The child’s eyes.
His eyes.
“You’re imagining things,” Zayn muttered to himself, though his voice lacked conviction.
Behind him, Omar watched carefully, arms crossed. He had known Zayn long enough to recognize denial when he saw it.
“You said the same thing five years ago,” Omar said calmly. “When you thought losing her wouldn’t matter.”
Zayn turned sharply. “This is different.”
“Yes,” Omar agreed. “Now there’s a child.”
The word struck like thunder.
Zayn exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair. “She would have told me.”
Omar met his gaze. “Would she?”
Silence answered.
Zayn remembered the final night with Aaliyah—the accusations, the anger, the way she had looked at him as if he were a stranger. He remembered choosing pride over patience.
“I need facts,” Zayn said finally. “Not memories.”
⸻
Across the city, Aaliyah sat on the edge of her bed, watching her son sleep.
Adam’s chest rose and fell peacefully, unaware that the world she had built so carefully was beginning to c***k. Moonlight traced his small face, softening the edges of her fear.
“I tried to protect you,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I still am.”
A knock echoed through the apartment, sharp and unexpected.
Her heart leaped.
She checked the clock—too late for visitors.
“Aaliyah,” a familiar voice called gently. “It’s Omar.”
Relief and dread tangled inside her.
She opened the door just enough to see him standing there, hands visible, expression sincere.
“I won’t stay long,” Omar said. “I promise.”
She hesitated, then stepped aside.
Omar’s eyes drifted to the bedroom doorway. He didn’t need confirmation. The truth was already breathing in the other room.
“He looks like him,” Omar said quietly.
Aaliyah’s shoulders stiffened. “Please don’t say his name.”
“He deserves to know.”
“So did I,” she replied, her voice steady but wounded.
Omar sighed. “Why didn’t you tell him, Aaliyah?”
She looked down, fingers twisting together. “Because he didn’t believe in me. And I couldn’t raise a child where love depended on doubt.”
“He was wrong,” Omar said softly. “But he’s not heartless.”
“That doesn’t undo the past.”
Omar nodded. “But it may change the future.”
⸻
The following morning, Zayn arrived at his office before sunrise.
Lina Vale was already there.
“You left the gala early,” she said smoothly, rising from her chair. “I was worried.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Zayn replied curtly.
She smiled, stepping closer. “Is this about her?”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you know about Aaliyah Noor?”
Lina paused—just a second too long.
“Only that she enjoys attention,” she said lightly. “And dramatic entrances.”
“There was a child,” Zayn said.
Lina laughed softly. “Lots of women have children, Zayn.”
Her tone sharpened his suspicion.
“Did you know her back then?” he pressed.
Lina’s smile tightened. “Why does it matter now?”
Zayn straightened. “Because if you lied to me before, Lina… everything changes.”
For the first time, uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
⸻
That evening, Zayn stood outside a modest apartment building, his pulse unsteady.
“This is a mistake,” Omar said beside him.
“Maybe,” Zayn replied. “But it’s one I have to make.”
He rang the bell.
Aaliyah opened the door, surprise flashing across her face before resolve settled in.
“I told you not here,” she said quietly.
“I won’t step inside,” Zayn replied. “Just answer one question.”
She crossed her arms. “You don’t get to demand anything.”
His voice softened. “How old is he?”
Her eyes glistened, but she did not look away.
“Four years and ten months.”
The truth settled between them like a verdict.
Zayn closed his eyes briefly, pain and awe colliding in his chest.
“He’s mine,” he whispered.
Aaliyah’s voice trembled. “He is my son.”
“And I am his father.”
For the first time, she did not deny it.
The silence that followed was heavy—not with anger, but with everything left unsaid.
Behind her, a small voice called, “Mama?”
Zayn’s heart fractured.
Aaliyah turned, wiping her tears. “Yes, Adam.”
Zayn froze.
Adam.
The name felt like a beginning and an ending all at once.
- Writer
