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Elior stood frozen as Zayn tried to get up from the couch. His movements were slow and unsteady.

Elior stepped forward instinctively and helped him sit up. He didn’t speak at first he just handed Zayn a glass of water.

Zayn took it, sipped silently, and placed it aside.

“Th… thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. Then, without looking at Elior, he stood up and started walking toward the door.

“Zayn,” Elior’s voice was low but firm. “Is that… my son?”

Zayn froze.

He didn’t move, didn’t turn. His hand clutched the doorknob like it was the only thing holding him up.

Elior stepped closer, his voice softer this time. “Is that little boy… mine?”

Zayn’s throat tightened.

“You went through my phone?” he asked coldly.

“No I mean, yes but it wasn’t on purpose.”

“Oh, so now you go through someone’s phone without permission?” Zayn snapped, turning around. “Didn’t anyone teach you basic manners?”

“Zayn,” Elior’s eyes searched his, “just answer me.”

Zayn stared at him for a long moment. The silence stretched. And then.

“No,” he said flatly. “He’s not your son.”

It was a lie.

A sharp, painful, necessary lie.

“He’s not yours,” Zayn repeated, more firmly now. “Now please move aside.”

Elior didn’t say anything. He simply stepped aside, stunned.

Zayn walked out of the room, out of the office, out into the pouring rain. He reached his car and tried to start it, but the engine sputtered and failed.

“Seriously? Now?” he cursed, hitting the steering wheel. “Why now?”

He was soaking wet.

As frustration began to boil over, a shadow suddenly fell over him.

Zayn looked up.

An umbrella.

Held over him.

He turned and saw Elior, standing beside him silently.

“Come. I’ll drop you,” Elior said gently.

Zayn shook his head. “No need.”

“Zayn, it’s late, and you’re soaking wet. Just come.”

“I said no.” Zayn turned and began walking quickly.

The rain got heavier.

As he took a quiet turn down a narrow street, he suddenly heard voices behind him.

“Hey, hey… looks like we found something nice tonight…”

Zayn’s heart started pounding.

He quickened his pace.

The footsteps behind him got faster.

Suddenly a hand grabbed his wrist.

He spun around in fear but stopped when he saw Elior.

Zayn’s breath caught in his chest. The fear shifted into something strange… like safety.

Elior didn’t say a word. He just held Zayn’s wrist tightly and pulled him toward the road, opening the car door.

“You’re getting in.”

Zayn didn’t resist this time.

They were both drenched. Elior climbed in from the other side and started the engine.

As they sat in silence, Elior reached into the backseat and handed Zayn his own jacket.

“You’ll fall sick. Wear it.”

Zayn looked at him, then took the jacket and pulled it over his shivering body.

They didn’t speak the whole ride.

About thirty minutes later, they reached Zayn’s apartment.

Zayn stepped out. But before he could take another step, a familiar voice called out.

“Mommy!”

Zayn turned to see Ari running toward him from another car.

Zayn immediately smiled, kneeling to scoop his son into his arms. “Missed me, champ?”

“They didn’t want to let me go!” Ari pouted.

Behind him, Adric emerged from the car, chuckling. “Caused a storm inside, didn’t he?”

Zayn laughed gently. “Always.”

Elior watched everything from inside the car.

He couldn’t hear their voices, but he saw the warmth. The love.

Then he saw Zayn say something to Adric. He couldn’t hear it, but he read the words on Zayn’s lips:

“He’s my boyfriend.”

Something inside Elior snapped.

His hand clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

His jaw locked.

Zayn had smiled. Adric had smiled back. Ari giggled as they went inside.

And Elior sat alone in the car, staring through the rain-soaked windshield.

That boy…

That little boy…

Ari.

Zayn’s son.

His son?

He looked again hair dark brown, eyes shaped like his own, even that little smile…

He looked so much like him.

And yet Zayn had said no.

Zayn had denied him.

Lied to him.

And worst of all…

Moved on.

With someone else.

But deep in his chest, Elior’s heart whispered: If you’ve really moved on, Zayn… then why did your hands shake when you saw me?

And for the first time in six years…

Elior realized…

He was chasing something he lost.

Someone.

---

“I need to do something... I have to do something,” Elior muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth in his office like a storm ready to break loose.

Without wasting a second, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Hey,” he said, voice low but urgent. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Sure, sir. What is it?”

“I need a DNA test... discreetly. Use any strand, hair, cup whatever you can get. Just... just get me the truth. And please, make it fast. I need to know this.”

“Understood. You’ll have your results as soon as possible.”

Elior hung up and tossed his phone on the desk, exhaling sharply. The silence in the room was deafening.

---

Two Days Later...

His phone rang.

Unknown number.

He grabbed it instantly.

“Yes?”

“Sir, the results came in.”

Elior’s heart skipped a beat.

“Tell me.”

“Yes, your suspicion was correct. The DNA it's a perfect match. The child... he’s yours, sir. There’s no doubt.”

Time stopped.

Elior didn’t speak.

He just sat down on the edge of his bed, as if every bone in his body suddenly became too heavy to carry.

His hand went to his forehead. He gripped his hair tightly, trying to keep himself from breaking down right there.

Ari…

That little boy…

His son.

Zayn’s words echoed in his head.

"Elior, I’m pregnant."

And then his own voice.

“Was it even mine, Zayn?”

The memory slammed into his chest like a bullet.

He remembered how Zayn’s eyes had filled with pain when he said that. How his lips trembled, but he still didn’t speak back.

He knew.

He knew it back then, deep down… and he chose to ignore it.

“Shit!” Elior growled, grabbing his phone and hurling it across the room. It smashed against the wall, breaking into pieces.

He stood up.

His fists clenched.

He punched the wall.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

His knuckles started bleeding, but he didn’t stop.

“Why?! Why do I always ruin everything?!” he shouted at the air.

He paced the room like a man possessed, pain and guilt crashing over him like waves in a storm.

“That boy... he’s mine.”

“And I... I left him. I left Zayn. I destroyed him. I humiliated him. And I left my child behind…”

His knees gave out, and he sank to the floor.

His chest was heaving.

His face was wet he didn’t even realize when he started crying.

“I have to fix this,” he whispered, brokenly. “I have to do something.”

He looked at his bleeding hand, his cracked phone on the floor, and the photo frame of his youth with Aseal staring back at him on the nightstand.

“This is not about revenge anymore. This is not about pain. This is about my son.”

He picked himself up slowly.

His eyes were red. His jaw was clenched. And his mind was made up.

---

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