C—lick.
Zayn closed the door with a low click. He remembered to check the door to make sure it was in perfect condition and he hadn't damaged it in any way because he was certain if anything were to happen to the door, assistant Ayra would have his head in an instant. He chuckled as he thought of the ferocious expression on the assistant earlier and he turned to leave. Just as he turned around, his curious eyes caught sight of the door opposite Dahlia's office. The door was ajar. Huh, why didn't he notice this door earlier? His eyes darted upwards and he spelt out the name written on the sign board on the door -'Director Ahmed.' "Director Ahmed?" He said again, quietly. "Why do I feel like I have heard this name before?" Nope. It's not the similarity in their last names. Zayn just thought the name sounded— familiar? He thought of something, looked at the sign board again and nodded,"Now I remember. He's the same man that's been trending in the news lately." The name seemed familiar because lately, for some reason, the man has been trending in the news with Dahlia. Just this morning, while working at the restaurant, Zayn had overheard an ongoing talk show on the radio involving his wife and this director Ahmed. Out of mere curiosity, he stepped into the office. Naturally, y'all should expect the man to want to know what's so special about this man that's been trending with his wife. You know— that little jealous spirit... If that's what it is. Zayn took a quick glance at the tidy office. He suddenly thought of something. Is director Ahmed a neat freak, perhaps an OCD? Because there's not even a speck of dirt in sight.Zayn tried to check if he could fix the bike but the problem was more complex than he thought. The bike has been in that restaurant for years but that old grumpy boss of his wouldn't spare some dirhams to buy a new one. He knew what was wrong with the bike but there was no way he could repair it without a toolbox... Is there? He was left with no other option than to walk back, all the way to the restaurant while pushing the old bike. No way was he leaving it at the damned entertainment agency and having it towed away, worse still, facing the wrath of that senile boss. Just a few meters away from the entertainment agency, his phone began to ring. He unconsciously hastened his steps. "Is it my boss or perhaps my mother -in-law?" He tried to figure out the person that was calling him. "No... That's not right. Mother in-law won't call me not after I spoiled her mood. Then who could it be? Father-in-law? Nah... He's never called me once. I don't even think he has my contact info."
S—sultan?Zayn couldn't deny his fingers moved, more like shook. A feeling of nostalgia washed over him. How many years has it been since he heard that word... or this voice?Three years? Four years?"Sultan," The voice called again, breaking through the troubled train of thoughts in his head. A swoosh of breath escaped his mouth as he breathed out before answering,"Father." His eyes cautiously looked around the nearly deserted road like he was searching for someone.He heard that familiar low happy laughter from the phone before the caller spoke again,"Zayn, you unfilial child. Do you even have any ounce of love in you for my wife? You didn't even contact her once. I really misunderstood your stubbornness."A smile, a genuine one finally appeared on Zayn's face. "Father remember, you forbade me from contacting anyone in the family. Besides, your wife is my mother. She'll understand."There was another low laughter at his sharp reply, briefly followed by a question. "How have you bee
Thrown in the limelight, Zayn had no other choice but to walk forward. With a low bow, he apologized,"Sir, it's my fault this time. Don't blame Mike. I'm sorry." Mr Mikhail laughed sarcastically. "Of course, it's your fault. That's what you said the last time too. Say, do you earn more cash secretly from these deliveries? The job I employed you for is the post of a cook not a delivery boy!" No one said a word. There was a pleased smile on Noor's face. He's always hated Zayn's pretentious self-righteous behavior. Everytime the latter gets into trouble, Mike is always there to rescue him. The funniest thing is that he is Mike's new roommate not Zayn so why does Mike insist on showing more compassion to Zayn than to him!? What's so good about Zayn anyway that even Mr Mikhail who's usually grumpy isn't too strict with him? Let's see how he'll get out of this mess this time. "I remember the last time this happened, I said something," Mr Mikhail looked at them. The staff exchang
"Yes. Friends are supposed to help each other not destroy one another. Why didn't he own up earlier when the boss asked?" Another chimed in. Zayn snickered quietly. Were they deaf when Mike claimed to be responsible for the offense earlier? To think of it, it was Mike that spoke first earlier. No one forced him to speak. Why does it suddenly feel like this Mike in person is a hypocrite!? "It's only fair for Zayn to give his own share of the monthly salary to Mike as compensation," Someone suggested. Others including Noor nodded in agreement. Zayn couldn't help chuckling. Such counterfeit sympathetic comments from his colleagues really makes his stomach churn in disgust. He was about to refute their words when Mike suddenly came to the little circle they formed round him. "Stop blaming Zayn okay? It was my choice to make and I was indeed at fault. I do not appreciate people poking their noses in my business, especially those that speak without filter." His words stunned the s
Just then, a loud crashing sound resounded from the office and the hallway became silent. The employees exchanged a look. What just happened? The door flew open and a heavily dressed lady came out. Her face was smudged with an awful amount of makeup, simply too much make-up. She appeared to be wearing a dress that stopped just above her knee-length. Her face was red, displaying her anger. But as she walked out, she crashed into Zayn who was about to knock on the door. "Oww," She winced in pain. She had bumped into his chest and hit her head really hard so that it hurt. She looked up at Zayn. "You wretched fellow. Are you blind? Get out of my way," She pushed him with her small handbag and left. Zayn looked around when he heard some of his colleagues snickering. Mr Mikhail walked out then. He paused to see them standing in front of his office. He seemed a bit embarrassed to see that they were there and chanced to witness the little quarrel between him and his daughter... Not li
"I'm leaving."These two words hung heavily in the air. The deathly pale figure on the bed remained motionless. Zayn ended up gripping the bony hands tightly in his hands.If it were before, Omar would have been quick to give him a befitting reply. How did that hyperactive, sharp and stern old man end up in this miserable position?A frosty look appeared on Zayn's face as he thought of the reports the doctor had given him when the illness began. The doctor mentioned that Omar had been slowly poisoned...Poisoned to the extent that it was now buried deep in his veins and was extremely difficult to cure.The doctor suggested that if he ever wanted to go further for the treatment which isn't a hundred percent reassurance, Omar would have to be flown out of the country.To do that, Zayn needed a huge sum of dirhams. His hands reached out to stroke what was left of Omar's white hair as his eyes fell on the bags of medicines on the bedside drawer.He'd worked hard at the restaurant everyda
"Mister." Zayn turned to the counter when he heard the receptionist's voice. A strange look appeared on his face as he looked at her. She had this kind of creepy smile like she was planning something— sinister. Her words confirmed his thoughts. "I could clear out a space for you to spend this night but it cost just a thousand dirhams." Zayn almost laughed when he heard her voice. Did she really believe him when he said one thousand dirhams earlier? He discreetly touched his pants pocket. He could say it boldly that the money in his pocket isn't up to half a thousand dirhams. Looking at the receptionist's expectant smile, he hesitated to burst her happy bubble but in the end, he said it. It's worth confessing more than spending the night homeless. "Actually... I only have three hundred dirhams with me." Just as he expected, the receptionist's smile was gone in a second. She gave him a look of disbelief and then shrieked,"You... With such a miserable amount, you dared
It was midday when the convoy of cars arrived at Sultan's estate. The first notable appearance in front of the main entrance of the largest villa on the land was an elegantly dressed old couple seemingly waiting for someone. The eyes of the woman whose physical appearance is concealed due to the niqāb attire she was wearing lit up happily at the arrival of the cars. She would have rushed to the cars if she wasn't held back by her husband who was similarly dressed in an expensive bisht outfit. The cars came to a stop and the doors opened one after the other. A guard came out of one particular car that looked completely different from the rest. No, it's not the color that differentiates it. It's the conspicuous sultan crest vested in front of the car. The guard opened the door of the back seat and Zayn walked out. The woman teared up at this sight. Her husband had to hold her. Zayn walked forward to them with a smile on his face. The guards followed closely behind him. One