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5 years later.

The morning sun streamed through the white curtains of the apartment, casting a soft golden glow across the marble floors. The scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air as soft laughter echoed from the living room.

"No no no! I'm gonna find you!" Zayn called out, crouching low behind the couch, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

From behind the kitchen counter, a giggle erupted, followed by the tiny pitter-patter of bare feet. "You can't catch me! I'm super fast!"

Zayn jumped up playfully. "Aha! Gotcha now!"

A small, energetic five-year-old boy popped out from hiding, beaming. His messy brown curls bounced as he raced into the living room. "Mommy! I won!"

Zayn turned, putting his hands on his hips in mock defeat. "Yeah yeah, you won. Come here, you little monkey."

He scooped the boy up and tickled his belly, making him squeal with laughter. "You're getting naughtier every single day, you know that?"

"I'm not naughty! I'm just clever!" the boy grinned.

Zayn rolled his eyes affectionately. "Oh really? Mr. Clever-pants, huh?"

The boy nodded proudly.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Saved by the bell," Zayn teased, setting the boy down and heading toward the door. "Go wash your hands. And don’t touch the cookies!"

"I won't!" he called back.

Zayn opened the door, only to find Rhys standing there, holding a coffee cup in one hand, a smug smile on his lips and a very visible hickey on his neck.

Zayn raised an eyebrow. "Oh wow... Looks like someone had a very wild night."

Rhys groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up please."

Then Zayn said ."Didn’t your husband shut you up last night? Because you sure weren’t quiet."

"You both brother's are the same" he said.

As Rhys stepped in, another familiar voice followed from behind.

"Hey, Zayn!"

Zayn watched his brother Adric stepping inside with a warm smile, holding a small gift bag. "Brother!" Zayn said with a grin and pulled him into a hug.

"How are you?" Adric asked, hugging him back tightly.

"I'm fine," Zayn replied, pulling away. "How are you and where's my little champion?"

"Inside," Zayn motioned. "And your champion is giving me gray hairs already."

Just then, the little boy ran toward the hallway. "Uncle Rhys! Uncle Adric!"

Rhys bent down with a grin, scooping the boy into his arms. "Hey, there’s my favorite little tornado."

"I’m not a tornado, I’m a superhero!"

"That too," Rhys said, chuckling.

Adric knelt down next to them. "I brought you something," he said, handing the small bag to the boy. Inside was a tiny model airplane.

"Whoa! This is so cool! Thank you, Uncle Adric!"

Zayn stood by, arms folded, watching the sweet chaos in his living room with a small smile on his lips. This... this was his peace. His family. Not the one he was born into but the one he built with love, struggle, and patience.

They all sat down together soon after, the boy snuggled in Adric’s lap as Rhys handed Zayn a coffee mug.

"You look good," Rhys said softly.

Zayn looked up. "So do you."

Then Zayn raised an eyebrow. "Except for the love bite, huh?"

Rhys hit him with the cushion.

They all laughed.

Adric looked around the apartment the warmth of the place, the sunlight on the plants, the family photo near the kitchen Zayn holding his child in his arms with a proud smile.

"You did good, Zayn," Adric said softly.

Zayn looked at him, his eyes a little glossy. "I think so."

There was a beat of silence before the child looked around and asked innocently, "Is Daddy coming home today?"

Zayn smiled gently. "No, baby. Remember? Daddy lives in the other country now. But he’s always watching you."

The boy looked up, then turned toward the window with curiosity.

"I think he saw my airplane!"

Zayn held him close. "I think he did, baby. I think he did."

---

Ari Zayn the boy who gave Zayn a reason to keep living.

His everything. His anchor.

Zayn had just tucked Ari into bed, softly brushing his fingers through the boy’s curls until he drifted off. The room was quiet now, filled only with the sound of gentle breathing and the rain tapping against the window. Zayn bent forward, kissed Ari’s forehead, and whispered, “Sleep well, my little world.”

Then, he stepped out quietly into the living room where Adric was waiting.

“Is Ari asleep?” Adric asked, his voice low and calm.

“Yeah,” Zayn nodded, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired physically, yes but more than that, he carried a weight in his eyes that never quite left.

“You look exhausted,” Adric added. “Is he... asking again?”

Zayn nodded again. His voice cracked a little when he replied, “He always does. Every time I drop him off at school, or when I read him stories before bed, he looks at me and asks 'Mommy, where is my dad? My friends all have one… where’s mine?’”

Adric’s heart ached for him, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I just tell him the same thing every time,” Zayn whispered. “That his dad is away in another country for business. But I don’t know... how long can I keep this lie up?”

Adric stepped closer and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. One day, he’ll find out. But not today. Not until you’re ready... not until he’s ready.”

Zayn gave a silent nod, trying to believe that. But the storm inside him never really stopped.

---

After Adric and Rhys left, the apartment fell quiet again. The only sound was the rain pouring down outside, and the occasional rumble of thunder.

Zayn stood by the massive window of his apartment, arms folded tightly, watching the city lights blur behind the glass. His reflection stared back at him older, wearier, sadder... yet stronger than ever before.

The rain created little rivers down the glass, and for a moment, it felt like tears running down his reflection's face.

He wasn’t the same Zayn anymore.

This Zayn he was different.

His body bore scars. His heart bore more.

But he had survived. Not just for himself but for Ari.

Ari was his light in the darkest hours. The little alpha who hugged him tight after nightmares. Who kissed his cheeks when he cried. Who didn’t know the world’s cruel truths, but still loved his mommy without a condition.

Zayn’s eyes softened.

He placed a hand on the glass on the reflection of his chest.

And whispered to himself:

“You have to keep going.”

Zayn wasn’t standing alone anymore.

Because in the next room, his little boy was sleeping soundly dreaming of superheroes and dinosaurs and someday… maybe his dad is coming home.

---

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