You Are My Heart

Some people carried their past on their faces. Zaden didn’t. At twenty-five, Zaden looked like a man who had been given every opportunity life could offer. He was handsome in a quiet, effortless way. Tall, well-built without being intimidating, with dark eyes that always seemed to be observing more than they revealed. His hair was usually neatly cut, his clothes carefully chosen, and there was almost always a calmness in his expression. People saw the expensive suits. They saw the polished shoes. They saw the sleek black car waiting outside the courthouse. They saw the young criminal attorney walking into court with a file tucked beneath his arm and confidence in every step. They saw the successful lawyer. The philanthropist. The founder of a growing children’s foundation. The man who had somehow managed to become one of the youngest criminal attorneys in the city to make a name for himself. What they didn’t see was the boy who had once slept wherever he could find shelter. They didn’t see the child who had learned early that hunger didn’t care whether you were tired. They didn’t see the boy who had waited for someone to come looking for him. No one ever did. Zaden had never really known his parents. His mother disappeared from his life so early that sometimes he wondered whether the memories he had of her were real or simply things his mind had created because every child wanted a mother. His father was even more distant—a name, a story, an absence. For a while, Zaden lived with relatives. It wasn’t exactly a home. It was simply somewhere to stay. And eventually, even that disappeared. By the time he was old enough to understand what abandonment meant, Zaden was already living on the streets. The streets taught him things no classroom ever could. They taught him how to read people. How to recognize danger. How to stay quiet. How to walk away from fights. How to survive without asking anyone for help. And most importantly, they taught him that kindness could come from the most unexpected places. That was where he met him. The person Zaden had carried in his heart for years. The person who had known him before the suits, before the university, before the courtroom, before the foundation. Before Zaden became Zaden. They had been children together. Two boys with nowhere to go. Two boys who understood hunger. Two boys who understood what it meant to sleep with one eye open. They had shared food when there wasn’t enough. Shared shelter when they found it. Shared silence when there was nothing to say. And somewhere along the way, Zaden’s feelings had changed. He had fallen in love. Quietly. Slowly. Completely. He had never confessed. Not because he was afraid of rejection. Zaden could handle rejection. He simply knew the person he loved. He knew that love wasn’t something that person wanted. Love was practically a forbidden word. Relationships were avoided. Romance was dismissed. Anything involving emotional attachment was met with the same cold response. Love isn’t for me. Zaden had heard those words more times than he could count. And yet, somehow, he stayed. Not because he believed he could change him. But because some people became part of you long before you realized you had allowed them in. ⸻ “Mr. Zaden.” Zaden lifted his eyes from the document in front of him. His secretary stood at the entrance of his office. “Yes?” “Your court appearance is in forty-five minutes.” “I know.” She smiled slightly. “You’ve been reading that same page for almost ten minutes.” Zaden glanced down at the document. He had. “Have I?” “Yes.” A faint smile appeared on his face. “Then perhaps I should read the next page.” His secretary laughed softly. “That might be a good idea.” She left. Zaden leaned back in his chair. His office was quiet. Large windows stretched across one side of the room, allowing sunlight to spill across the dark wooden floor. Bookshelves covered another wall, filled with legal books, case files, and journals. There were no unnecessary decorations. Zaden didn’t like clutter. Everything had its place. Just like his life. At least, that was what everyone believed. He picked up his pen again. Another criminal case. Another person accused of something. Another courtroom. Another battle. Zaden specialized in criminal law, but his heart had always been somewhere slightly different. Children. Especially children who had grown up the way he had. Children who were invisible. Children who slept on sidewalks. Children who were forced to steal because they hadn’t eaten. Children who were arrested for crimes they didn’t understand. Children who had nobody. Zaden understood them. Perhaps too well. That was why, years ago, he had created a foundation. It started small. A few children. School uniforms. Food. School fees. Then it grew. Now there were dozens of children receiving support through his foundation. Some attended schools. Some lived in safe homes. Some received medical care. And Zaden personally made sure the people responsible for caring for them were held accountable. He didn’t talk about it. He didn’t post pictures. He didn’t give interviews about it. He simply helped. Whenever someone thanked him, he always gave the same answer. “You don’t have to thank me.” Because in his mind, he wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. He was simply giving children what he wished someone had given him. A chance. ⸻ By nine-thirty, Zaden was standing inside the courtroom. The atmosphere was tense. His client sat beside him, nervous fingers tapping against the table. Zaden glanced at him. “Relax.” “I didn’t do it,” the young man whispered. “I know.” “You believe me?” Zaden turned toward him. “I wouldn’t be representing you if I didn’t believe there was a case worth fighting.” The young man swallowed. Zaden placed a hand briefly over the file. “Let me do my job.” And that was exactly what he did. For the next several hours, Zaden was different. Still calm. Still composed. But sharp. Precise. Every question had a purpose. Every objection was calculated. Every piece of evidence was examined carefully. He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. Zaden had learned that the loudest person in the room wasn’t necessarily the strongest. Sometimes strength looked like silence. Sometimes confidence sounded like a calm voice. And when the judge finally adjourned the case, Zaden gathered his documents. His client looked at him. “Thank you.” Zaden nodded. “Go home.” “I will.” “And stay out of trouble.” The young man smiled. “I’ll try.” “Don’t try.” Zaden looked at him seriously. “Do it.” The young man laughed. “Yes, sir.” Zaden watched him leave. Then he looked at his phone. There was one message. From him. The one person who could make Zaden’s carefully organized world feel slightly less organized. Where are you? Zaden stared at the message for several seconds. Then he smiled. A real smile. The kind very few people ever saw. He typed back. Leaving court. Why? The response came almost immediately. Come by. Two words. That’s all. Zaden stared at them. He should have asked why. He should have asked what was wrong. Instead, he simply typed: Okay. He slipped his phone into his pocket. His driver was waiting outside, but Zaden dismissed him. “I’ll drive myself.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” He got into his car. For a moment, he sat there without starting the engine. His fingers rested loosely against the steering wheel. Twenty-five years old. A successful criminal attorney. A foundation. A beautiful apartment. Money. Education. A career he loved. A life he had built entirely by himself. He had everything he once dreamed about. Almost everything. Because there was still one thing he had never managed to have. Him. Zaden started the car. And as he drove through the city, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering why that person had suddenly asked him to come over. He had known him for most of his life. He knew his moods. His habits. His silences. His anger. His stubbornness. He knew when something was wrong even when no words were spoken. But there was one thing Zaden had never been able to figure out. Whether there was even the smallest place in his heart for love. Zaden had stopped expecting an answer years ago. Still… Some feelings didn’t disappear just because you stopped hoping. And Zaden had loved him for far too long to pretend otherwise. He just hadn’t decided yet whether loving someone who didn’t believe in love was a blessing… or another kind of survival. To be continued…