Chapter — Echoes of a Forgotten Past
Zayen stood silently in front of the large window of his office, both hands tucked into the pockets of his dark-blue trousers. Through the enormous glass window, the magnificent view of the city stretched clearly before him.
The building was ten floors high, and Zayen was standing on the first floor. From behind the transparent glass, the vehicles moving along the road below appeared tiny, almost like little insects crawling across the streets.
He was dressed in a dark-blue suit that made him look as attractive and handsome as ever. His hair was styled in its usual neat fashion, yet there was something different about him today.
A strange seriousness was clearly visible in his eyes.
He stood there quietly, gazing through the window at the vast cityscape before him.
Countless buildings rose toward the sky, while endless streams of vehicles moved along the roads below. Beside them, a bullet train raced along the railway tracks, creating a striking contrast against the magnificent urban landscape.
Yet Zayen wasn't truly paying attention to the beauty of the city.
His deep eyes seemed to be looking far beyond the buildings and streets.
Perhaps, somewhere behind that calm expression, memories he had buried long ago were slowly resurfacing.
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door of his office.
Without turning around, Zayen spoke in his deep, composed voice.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Waqar Malik stepped inside.
He was wearing a long black coat over a pair of brown trousers. In his hand was a dark-green walking cane, its handle adorned with a terrifying golden lion sculpture.
He looked to be around forty-five years old. His hair was a mixture of black and white, and the same subtle traces of gray could be seen in his beard. His brown eyes carried a natural sharpness, while an unmistakable aura of authority surrounded his face.
He was the kind of man whose presence alone could make a room feel more serious.
As soon as Waqar entered the office, he spoke in a gentle tone.
"How are you, Zayen?"
The moment Zayen heard his voice, he immediately recognized him.
His serious expression remained unchanged as he slowly turned around.
The man standing before him was not merely someone he respected.
He was the man who had taken the place of a father in his life—the very person who had raised him.
Waqar Malik.
A slight hint of surprise appeared in Zayen's eyes.
"Oh… you."
Waqar laughed softly at his reaction.
"What? Am I not allowed to visit your office?"
Zayen shook his head slightly.
"No. I didn't say that."
With a faint smile, Waqar walked over and comfortably sat down on the sofa positioned on the right side of the office. He rested his cane beside him and looked toward Zayen.
"The news about the orphanages you took from Arshad Zaman has spread through the media like wildfire."
His expression became slightly more serious.
"But I made sure Arshad Zaman's death was reported as a heart attack. That's why no one is paying much attention to the circumstances surrounding his death."
Waqar paused briefly before continuing.
"Instead, the attention is on you. Your name has been all over social media. People are talking about you everywhere."
A subtle smile appeared on his face.
"And because of all this attention, our company's shares have also been rising rapidly."
Zayen listened without interrupting. His expression remained calm and unreadable.
Finally, he spoke in his usual composed manner.
"This is only the beginning for us."
Waqar looked at him for a moment before giving a small nod.
"Yes. You're right."
He then leaned back slightly and turned his full attention toward Zayen.
"Anyway, all of this will continue on its own. Tell me something—how long are you planning to stay in Dubai this time?"
Zayen remained silent for a moment.
He had been listening carefully to every word Waqar said, but his mind seemed to be somewhere else.
"I'm flying to Europe next week."
A trace of surprise appeared in Waqar's eyes.
"What? You came here for such a short time this month?"
Zayen's expression remained serious.
"I came here to deal with the Red Gang matter and put an end to it."
He slowly turned his gaze toward the enormous window again.
The countless buildings, busy streets, moving vehicles, and the bullet train were still visible beyond the glass.
For a few seconds, he simply stared at them.
Then his voice became slightly quieter.
"But whenever I look at these streets and buildings…"
He paused.
Something changed subtly in his eyes.
The cold seriousness in them was replaced by a distant, almost nostalgic look.
"…memories of my past come rushing back to me."
The office fell silent.
And for a moment, Zayen stood there without saying another word, staring at the city as if the world outside the window had somehow opened a door to a past he had tried to leave behind.