As Faris entered his father's office, he knocked lightly on the door before stepping inside. His father, Mr. Faruqi, sat behind the grand mahogany desk, looking over some papers, his presence as commanding as ever.

"Ajao, Faris," his father's voice echoed, sharp and authoritative.

Faris hesitated for a moment, watching his father-no, his boss, as he reminded himself-and walked toward the desk. Though the question lingered in his mind, why does Baba come to the office so early every day?, he had no choice but to bury it and stick to the formalities that were expected here.

"Ji, Baba..." Faris began, but his father's cold glance cut him off.

"Baba nahi. Sir ya Mr. Faruqi," his father corrected in an uncompromising tone, reminding him of the boundaries that existed in this professional space.

"Ji, Mr. Faruqi." Faris quickly adjusted, swallowing any further hesitation. "Aapne bulaya?"

His father looked at him without a hint of softness. "Meeting ke liye preparations hui hain?" he asked, as if expecting nothing less than perfection.

"Ji, sab tayar hai, sir," Faris replied, forcing his voice to stay steady.

Mr. Faruqi nodded and gestured for Faris to sit down as he laid out the details of the upcoming meeting.

"Aaj ki meeting European clients ke saath hai. Tumhein pata hai humara kaam kis level pe hai-precision is everything." He paused, studying his son for a reaction.

"Our company deals in advanced technology solutions-AI integration, cybersecurity, and data infrastructure. We have a reputation for providing secure and scalable solutions to international firms. Tumhein in sab cheezon ki samajh honi chahiye by now."

Faris nodded, listening intently as his father continued.

"European market mein humari expansion crucial hai, especially with the new AI software we've developed. We'll be offering them customized solutions for their industry needs-logistics, automation, and security." Mr. Faruqi tapped the edge of the table.

"Everything hinges on this deal. Any mistake, aur tumhein pata hai consequences kya honge."

"Ji, Mr. Faruqi," Faris responded, trying to maintain composure, though he could feel the weight of the expectations settling heavily on his shoulders.

"Presentation ka har detail flawless hona chahiye. Graphs, analysis, technical specs-no room for errors. Tum sab dekh loge?"

"Ji, sab kuch ready hai. I've cross-checked everything twice," Faris replied, hoping he'd done enough to meet his father's high standards.

His father gave a curt nod, his face still unreadable. "Good. Remember, tum sirf mera beta nahi ho yahan-tum heir ho iss empire ke. Don't forget that."

With that, the conversation ended, leaving Faris to sit in the silence that followed, knowing that in his father's eyes, this wasn't just about business-it was about proving his worth.

As soon as I left Baba's cabin, his words kept bouncing around in my head:

"Tum sirf mera beta nahi ho yahan-tum heir ho iss empire ke." Heir. What an impossible word to carry.

"Shukr hai Allah ka... aur Imaad bhai ka," I thought, feeling a rush of gratitude.

"Warna AI technologies ka toh mujhe kuch samajh hi nahi aata."

Imaad bhai, my closest friend from the orphanage, had drilled these concepts into my brain, patiently teaching me everything about artificial intelligence. I'd always been more into books and stories, but Imaad had dragged me into the practical world, and today I was more thankful than ever for that.

"Kaash Imaad bhai yahaan hota... monster se bacha leta mujhe," I muttered under my breath, thinking about Baba-Mr. Faruqi, as he demanded to be called in the office.

"Heir ban gaya hoon, ab yeh sab kuch sambhalna hai. Aur Zara... usse dhundna hai... lekin yeh sab... uff." I sighed, trying to push away thoughts of Zara for now.

Work first.

As I sat down in my office, I quickly ran through the presentation notes again. AI solutions for European clients.

"Chalo, Imaad bhai, yeh sab tumhari wajah se samajh aa raha hai. Bas meeting handle ho jaaye theek se."

🐣

The moment the meeting started, I felt the pressure weighing on me. The clients were all seated, staring at me expectantly, and Baba... Baba was watching every move, every word, his eyes scanning me like a hawk. But I couldn't afford to mess this up.

I greeted the clients and dove into the presentation, explaining our AI solutions with the best confidence I could muster. As I spoke about logistics improvements and security enhancements, my mind kept flashing back to Imaad's explanations. His late-night lessons were the reason I wasn't fumbling right now.

"Allah ka shukr," I thought. The clients seemed interested, nodding along as I broke down the technical details. I answered their questions smoothly, feeling a bit more at ease with every answer. It was as if I was on autopilot, repeating everything Imaad had taught me, but it worked.

Every now and then, I glanced at Baba. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were locked onto me, assessing. Judging. "Yeh sab theek ho raha hai na?"

I wondered, half-expecting him to cut me off. But he didn't. Instead, his gaze softened-just a little-as if, for the first time, he was actually... impressed?

As I wrapped up the meeting, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The clients seemed satisfied, and more importantly, Baba hadn't torn me apart.

"Shukr hai, Allah ka shukr," I thought as I discreetly looked at Baba one last time. I could tell-he was pleased, or at least not disappointed.

"Par yeh sab kuch ab mere kandho pe hai," I reminded myself. Being an heir wasn't just a title-it was a burden.

"Zara...

unhe dhundna hai. Lekin pehle yeh monster ka kaam sambhalna padega."

As soon as Baba left with the person to finalize the deal in his office, I was left sitting alone in the meeting room.

Wait... what? Mr. Faruqi?

I froze for a second, replaying Baba's words in my head. "Mr. Faruqi," he had said. Not Dar, not the family name I'd grown up with, but Faruqi.

The echo of his words, "Mr. Faruqi," kept replaying in my mind like a broken record.

Why had he called us Faruqis? This question was gnawing at me, tearing at my sense of identity.

"Hum toh Dar hain... toh yeh Faruqi kya hai?" I couldn't stop thinking about it. It wasn't just a slip of the tongue; there was something deeper behind it.

Before I could dive too far into my thoughts, one of the workers snapped me out of it. "Sir, ye sab clear karna hai... I mean, room clear krna hai?" he asked, probably used to seeing me lost in my thoughts after meetings. I nodded, trying to mask my confusion.

"Yes, clear it. And don't forget to place all the files back where they belong. Hand them over to Baba," I instructed, my voice steady, though my mind was far from calm. He gave a quick nod and got to work, while I tried to collect my scattered thoughts.

As usual, after the meeting, I left the building for a meal-except this time, I hadn't even had breakfast. Or should I just call it lunch now? I thought with a slight smile, but my head was still spinning with questions.

The entire walk out of the building, my mind was replaying what had happened.

"Farooqis... Mr. Faruqi..." The pieces weren't fitting together.

"Baba ne yeh kab aur kyun badla? Aur yeh Faruqi surname kahan se aya?"

I couldn't solve it, no matter how many times I turned it over in my head.

◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

HER POV

Today was unlike any other day at my café. There was a rush of people, much more than usual, and it felt like a blessing-especially since it was my birthday. As I moved around the café, helping out where needed, my heart fluttered with happiness. What I saw next was something I'll never forget-everyone in the café, from the little kids to their teachers, began singing "Happy Birthday" to me, holding colorful balloons in their hands.

The kids had come to the café as part of a school trip, learning about Turkey and its beautiful history. Schools here organize such trips to help the children understand their surroundings and develop a sense of belonging to their city. Their wishes and happy faces made my day even more special. I wanted to do something for them, so I decided to provide them with chocolate dishes on the house. As they left the café, they all thanked me in unison, and I couldn't help but smile. It was the best birthday I had ever had.

I turned 30 today, and the joy I felt from those little ones was immeasurable. I followed them outside, waving goodbye as they boarded the bus, each still holding the balloons given to them by my two "pookie cookie" brothers, Imaad Bhai and Vikram Dada. Once the bus drove off, I headed back to the café, ready to finish the day's work.

We usually close the café by 6 or 7 PM since it's not meant for dinner service. As the workers finished up, cleaning and wishing me one last happy birthday, I sighed and sat down on a chair. Imaad Bhai brought me a glass of water, and I thanked him.

"Koi baat nahi, bacche," he said with his usual warm smile. Vikram Dada soon joined us and asked, "Aap kuch story sunane waale the, betu?"

"Haan Dada, bhaiyu, aao na," I said, and they both sat in front of me. As always, Vikram Dada went full dramatic, resting his head on his hands and elbows on the table. "Arey baccha, sunao toh aise accha lagta hai sunna," he joked, and Imaad Bhai copied him, teasing me.

"Haan princess, btao bhaiyon ki jaan, kya hua," Imaad added.

I got up dramatically and said, "Bhaiyu, aapko pata hai, main daily ek market se aati hoon, aaj bhi wahi se aa rahi thi." I began with my usual flair, using my hands to act out the scene, and they were listening closely.

"Fir? Fir?" they both asked in unison, leaning in.

"Haan, toh fir ek uncle ka cart fas gaya tha, toh main help karne gayi. Fir..." I trailed off, keeping them in suspense.

"Fir?" they asked, moving forward again.

"Wahaan ek car ja rahi thi-usually wahan se cars nahi jaati-but aaj gayi thi. Aur kyunki main cart remove kar rahi thi, toh usko rukna pada." I paused dramatically, then added with a grin, "Driver mujhe dekh kar dar gaya, pata nahi kyu, aur kaanp raha tha, saaf dikh raha tha uske chehre pe! Main ne use rukne ka ishara kiya, aur jaanbujh kar ghur ke kiya, hehe."

They exchanged glances, trying not to laugh, and asked again, "Uske baad?"

I folded my arms, getting angry for effect. "Uske baad kya, wo kutta itni kharab turn liya, girte girte bachi main!" I huffed, and they burst into laughter, seeing the drama unfold.

Both of them got up, patting my hand and laughing. "Paglu bacche," Vikram Dada said with a smile.

Then, looking at Imaad Bhai, Vikram Dada said, "Waise Imaad, main kuch gifts laya tha hamari princess ke liye."

"Dada, aap wahaan Imaad bhaiyu se kyun bol rahe, mujhse bole na!" I interrupted playfully.

He continued teasing, replying, "Imaad, isko bol ke ek condition hai." He smiled, looking at Imaad.

I pouted dramatically, holding his arm. "Dada, mujhse dekhe bole na! Accha, thik hai, bataiye kya condition hai?"

Vikram Dada replied seriously this time, "Sambhal ke rakhogi, hamesha."

"Okay!" I agreed instantly.

Suddenly, I had a hunch. "Dada! Aapne Zara ka locket laya hai!" I screamed with excitement, practically jumping up and down. "Dijiye, dijiye na, Dada!"

I tried to grab it, but he held it back, teasing me more by moving left and right. "Dada yaar, dijiye na, aise mat sataiye," I pleaded, almost ready to cry dramatically.

Imaad Bhai gestured with his eyes, telling Dada to give it to me. Finally, he handed me the locket. "Haww, my baby! Itna pyara locket hai! Bhaiyu, Dada, thank you so much!" I hugged them both tightly.

The locket was more than just a gift-it was special. When I saw it, I cried with happiness. Today, as it hung around my neck, it felt elegant and beautiful. I had never seen something so lovely, and that's why it remained close to my heart.

Zara... today is Amara's birthday, and also our Zara's. But even now, I can't accept that she's gone. It's been 5 years since that accident, and since then, Faris has distanced himself from us. I don't even know where he is or how he's doing. It's just Vikram and me, holding each other up, surviving one day at a time. But no matter how hard I try, I still can't forget my Zara, my princess.

Our Zara had a twin-Amara Amin. She was adopted a long time ago, and Sir trusted us with her protection because she looks exactly like Zara. They have the same face, but Amara is a bit different in her nature. Today, when Amara told us that story... the way she described how that driver was terrified, it felt off.

Such fear? I've only seen that kind of fear in people when they faced Zara. Could it really be...?

As I sat thinking about this, we were driving home. Vikram was at the wheel, and Amara was sitting in the passenger seat, chatting away with her "Dada." Her face always had that innocent smile, but inside my mind, memories of Zara kept spinning-her locket, the bracelet we never found.

Amara suddenly turned to me and asked, "Bhaiyu, khayalon mein kho gaye ho? Ghar pe dawat hai, hum seedha wahin chal rahe hain, thik hai?"

"Dawat?" I asked, surprised.

"Arey bhaiyu! Ammi ne special birthday dinner banaya hai!"She said with her usual dramatic flair, waving her hands in the air.

I chuckled and replied, "Accha, thik hai bacche. Hum neighbours hi toh hain, waise bhi Bhul gaye kya?"

Amara slapped her forehead playfully, "Oh shit! Kaise bhool gayi main!" She burst out laughing, and as I watched her laugh, my heart felt heavy again.

If Amara ever found out the truth about our dark past, could she handle it?

Would she be strong enough?

I couldn't let her suffer.

I can't let her lose her smile like Zara.

I made a promise to myself right then and there: No matter what happens, I will protect her at any cost. Even if it costs me my life, I won't let her face that darkness. I can't lose another sister.

Memories of Zara flashed in my mind-her locket, her bracelet, and the life we once had. We never found those pieces of her. They were like the memories that haunted me.

Amara's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, "Bhaiyu, pahunch gaye. Chale?"

We all got out and went inside to celebrate her birthday, just like we always do-filled with laughter, jokes, and love. Amara was as happy as ever, and every moment we spent together became a cherished memory for me. Today was another day I would hold onto-another day where, for a little while, we left the pain behind and only had smiles to remember.

After working hard all day, I left early as usual. Baba always comes home late, so I headed straight to my room, took a shower, and freshened up. Yes, I know it was my third shower of the day, but it's just a habit of mine. I threw on a casual tee and joggers just to relax before dinner.

As I went down for dinner, I shouted "Ammi Bhook lagi hai?"

I heard my Ammi's voice coming from room,

"Haan, beta. Table pe rakh diya hai, khana khalo, in dono ko sula du mein," she added.

"Ammii, bacche nahi hain wo, 17 saal ke hain!" I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Par beta, fir ladte hain. Ye aap khalo aur so jao," she insisted.

As usual, I served myself and ate alone. Our house never had a family meal together, not even once. Just as I was starting , I heard Baba's voice coming from the front door.

"Faris! Faris!" he yelled, throwing his jacket aside.

"Maine tumhe responsibilities di hain! Koi gudde-gudiyon ka khel nahi! Files kahan gayi aaj ke project se related?" His voice was loud and filled with frustration.

"Wo to maine worker se keh diya tha ki rakh de!" I shouted back, trying to stay calm.

"Itni important file tumhe khud rakhne ya le jane ki jagah tumne worker ko bol diya? Tumhe dimaag hai ki usi ashram mein chhod aaye?" His words were harsh, but I couldn't let them affect me. My blood boiled as I listened to him. I couldn't stand when he insulted the orphanage; it was my second home.

"Wo to theek hai, lekin agar assistant ne deka nhi hota, to aaj wo file bik jaati! Aur Croredon ka project hamare haath se aise hi chala jaata! Kal tumhe office aane ki zarurat nahi hai samjhe, kuch urgent kaam hai jo main handle karunga. Tumhare bharose kuch nahi kar sakta," he said, his tone full of anger.

With that, he stormed off to his room, leaving me standing there. I turned back to my own room, my food untouched, my blood still boiling. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him how wrong he was, but I couldn't say a single word.

I took out my rage on the boxing bag that hung in my room. As I hit it, I muttered to myself, "Kaam pe nahi bulaana to heir kyun banare ho?"

Drinking some water, I thought about the upcoming day. "Achha hai, kal mein Zara ko dhundhne jaunga," I decided.

I pulled out my phone and stared at her photo. "Ye tumne accha nahi kiya, Zara, mere saath. Ab tum iska anjam dekhna.... Aara hu mein...," I said to myself, frustration bubbling inside me.

"Kab tak chupogi tum?"

After a while, I finally gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep without eating anything, consumed by my thoughts.

◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

Chapter Aesthetics

◆ Kids bidding her bye.

◆ The locket That Vikram gifted her.

◆ Faris Taking his Rage out.

◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆

Hey, lovely readers! What did you think of the chapter? Did you enjoy it?

This update is dedicated to the two readers who have been eagerly waiting. I hope it brings more hope for this story to find its audience.

By the way, what are your thoughts on Zara? Do you think she's really there?

And how do you feel about Amara? Do you like her character?

Also, why do you think Faris's father referred to him as Mr. Faruqi? 

Was it just a slip of the tongue, or is there more to it?