"This is Zainab… my one and only sister."
Faisal blinked, shocked. "Sister?! Since when do you have a sister?" His eyes moved quickly from Zainab to Ibrahim, then back to Zainab again. He even stepped a little closer, staring at her from head to toe.
"Did she just… get born yesterday and grew up this big overnight?!" Faisal's face was full of disbelief.
Ibrahim's phone suddenly rang, breaking the moment. He sighed, looked at the screen, and said, "Long story… but I really have to receive this call." He excused himself and stepped a little far away.
Zainab sat on the green-painted bench, swinging her legs like a carefree kid. Every now and then she licked the lolipop slowly as if she had no worries in the world.
After watching her for a moment, Faisal then finally asked, "You're really Ibrahim's sister? I mean… seriously?!"
She took the lollipop out, twirled it in her fingers, and smiled like she was telling him a secret.
"Shhh… nobody knows. Not even my friends. I'm like… a hidden treasure."
Faisal frowned. He wasn't sure if she was being serious or just messing with him.
"A hidden treasure? And why exactly?"
Zainab leaned back against the bench, "Dad used to think I was a weakness. According to him, women in the underworld are only good for giving birth to men. Otherwise… useless. So he never wanted anyone to know about me. Said people would try to hurt me and my family if they knew. Get it?"
Faisal blinked, "Tell me honestly… do you enjoy making up fake stories? Because this one sounds like a full-on movie script."
Zainab rolled her eyes dramatically and sucked her lollipop again.
"Ohh, you're so boring. Why would I waste my time making fake stories? I'm too pretty to lie. Lies are for ugly people."
Faisal laughed. Zainab wasn't interested in his confusion. Her eyes suddenly drifted across the garden, where Ibrahim was on call. She pointed her lollipop stick in that direction.
"Tell me something, why isn't Ibi getting married? Look at him. He's getting old, and his face is always stuck on serious mode while working. He should at least get a wife to annoy him at home."
Faisal blinked at her bluntness, "Old? He's not old."
Zainab nodded like a wise philosopher.
"He is old. Mentally old. I swear, if you put him in a room with a bunch of grandpas, he'll fit right in. No fun, no romance, only work work work."
Faisal couldn't help but chuckle again. He finally sat down beside her, "Look, your brother doesn't even look at ladies. What do you expect? For him to suddenly fall in love like some movie hero?"
Zainab smirked, "Maybe. That would be entertaining. Imagine Ibi doing a slow dance in the rain with some girl. Ohh, the world would end."
Faisal laughed louder now.
"Honestly, I think he's planning to die single. That's just who he is."
Zainab sucked the lollipop again, and whispered mischievously, "Then maybe we should put his name on a matrimony site."
Faisal almost choked on his breath. He stared at her with wide eyes, "Are you out of your mind? Do you want me to die soon? If Ibrahim ever finds out I did something like that… he'll kill me without even thinking."
The way he said it, half serious and half dramatic, made Zainab burst into soft laughter. She liked Faisal's company. He was confused, funny.
Faisal shook his head, muttering curses under his breath, but her laughter only grew.
At that moment, a maid came walking with a tray. On it were two steaming mugs of coffee, a tall glass of milkshake. She handed one mug of coffee to Faisal, the chilled milkshake to Zainab, and another mug to Ibrahim, who had just ended his phone call and was now approaching them. One of his hands held the mug firmly, while the other slid into his pocket.
Zainab, already distracted by her new milkshake, was about to tuck her half-eaten lollipop into her pocket as if saving it for later. That was her habit — the moment she got new food, she forgot the old one, even if it was still in her hand.
Ibrahim's sharp eyes caught it immediately.
"What kind of manner is this? First finish the candy, then drink the milk. You'll stain your pocket, and then the maid will come to me with complaints."
Zainab squinted at him, frowning not because of his words, but because the sunlight made her eyes water. She raised her chin, "Then hold it until I finish the drink."
And he held it, silently. Sometimes, teaching Zainab manners meant accepting her little rebellions. This, too, was one of those times.
After that, Zainab began talking about the new Barbie movie she had watched last night. She explained every little detail, from the pink dresses to the happy ending. Two grown, serious men were listening to a teenage girl explain a cartoon. It was not strange for them to hear such things; both had sisters and were used to the innocence of young girls. But it was new in another way—because whenever these two men were together, they only spoke about work or another topic. This was the first time they shared something lighter, something almost normal.
When Zainab finished her story, she went inside. That day, Faisal came to know everything—the truth from the very beginning. Ibrahim told him from Zainab's birth to Zafar's death.
After Zafar passed away, Ibrahim had once discussed with Aliya about making Zainab's identity public. But if the truth came out, it would create rumors, bring scandal, and harm the family's name. So, Aliya chose silence so did Ibrahim. For the world, Zainab did not exist. For him, she was everything.
Ibrahim was still sitting on the same spot where Zainab had been earlier. Evening had come, and the whole garden was glowing with soft white lights, hanging from the trees and around the pathway.
Faisal leaned back, "Her friends don't doubt anything? One day someone might see her getting into these big cars… questions will rise."
Ibrahim gave a small smile, "She doesn't come directly here from school. In the middle, we change cars. First a simple one, something normal that looks like any other family car. Only then, after some distance, she shifts into mine. So if anyone from her school sees her, all they notice is a normal car picking her up. Nothing unusual."
Faisal nodded slowly, "And when she wants to invite her friends?"
Ibrahim continued, answering, "She never brings them here. I give her my guesthouse for that. It's far from this place, simple, nothing connected to me. Her friends believe she lives there with her 'parents.' To them, she is just a normal girl from a good family. Even the people they know as her 'parents' aren't real. I hired a man and woman from out of the city, people who know how to act. They play the role of her parents perfectly — attend school meetings, talk to teachers, show up at gatherings when needed. I paid them well, but also made it very clear that if they spoke too much, or asked questions, they'd regret it. So they follow my orders exactly. They play their parts without a single mistake. Nobody dares to doubt them. I made sure everything is believable. Zainab sometimes stays in that guesthouse for days at a time, just to make the story real. When her friends visit, they only see a quiet house, loving parents, and a shy girl who doesn't like attention. Nobody would imagine the truth. That's why she's safe. I don't take chances, Faisal. The moment anyone starts to ask too many questions, they're removed from her life. Quietly. No one gets close to her without my permission."
Faisal's eyes stayed on Ibrahim. "You've built an entire wall around her."
Ibrahim looked at the garden lights, "It was Zafar's wish. He wanted her hidden from the world. Even my own mother didn't want me to reveal her identity. So, to hide one truth, I had to create an entire world of lies. Stories within stories."
"Never once… Zainab asked for recognition? For people to know who she really is?"
Ibrahim pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened the gallery. His finger stopped on an old picture — Zainab at ten years old, taken just two years after Zafar's death. His eyes grew heavy as he showed it.
"She grew up too soon. So mature… so understanding, that she never asked anything. She just accepted life… maybe because she already knew what pain meant. Maybe because of how dad behaved with her. I don't even know if she remembers him with love or anger. I hardly about dad with her. But Faisal… I think about her a lot. Too much. Sometimes, I feel tired of this life—tired of the guns, the enemies, the shadows following me everywhere. I think… maybe I should leave it all. Go somewhere far, another country… live a simple life. But then…" He let out a bitter laugh, eyes still on the picture. "…then reality hits. I'm not a man who gets to choose peace. This life won't let me go."
Listening to Ibrahim, Faisal finally understood why Zainab had been talking about Ibrahim's marriage earlier. He realized something he never thought about before—life changes. Relationships with parents, with siblings… they're not forever. People leave, people die. Maybe if Ibrahim had his own life, his own family, things would be lighter on him.
Faisal placed a firm hand on Ibrahim's shoulder, squeezing gently, "If there's ever a day, any situation—where you need someone for Zainab, don't hesitate. Just one call, like you always do. You know I'll come. From today, she's not only your sister… she's mine too."
Neither of them knew then—just two months later, Ibrahim would make that call. And what happened next would shake even him in a way he never imagined.