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Zayn pushed open the door to his apartment, the quiet click of the lock echoing in the stillness of the room. It was late evening, and the golden hue of the setting sun spilled through the sheer curtains, painting everything in soft orange light. He sighed, exhausted not from work or physical strain, but from the emotional weight he had been carrying for far too long.

“Ari?” he called gently, slipping off his shoes.

“In the living room,” came the small voice.

Zayn's heart softened immediately. He turned the corner and saw Ari sitting on the couch, his small legs curled under him, arms wrapped tightly around a plush elephant. The child looked up and as soon as he saw Zayn, his face lit up.

“Mommy!” Ari cried out, jumping off the couch and running toward him.

Zayn dropped to his knees, opening his arms as Ari crashed into him, hugging him tightly. Zayn held him close, breathing in the scent of his hair, feeling that familiar warmth that always managed to ground him, no matter how chaotic life became.

“I missed you,” Ari mumbled into his neck.

“I missed you too, baby,” Zayn replied, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

After a long moment, Zayn pulled back slightly. “Did you eat something, sweetheart?”

Ari shook his head. “No.”

Zayn stood up, holding his hand. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll cook something for us.”

They both walked to the small but cozy kitchen. Zayn tied an apron around himself and pulled out a few ingredients from the fridge. Ari climbed up on a stool near the counter, watching him with curious eyes.

“Mommy,” Ari said suddenly, his voice a little softer than before.

“Yes, love?”

“Where is my dad?”

Zayn froze.

The knife in his hand paused mid-chop, his fingers tightening around the handle. For a few seconds, his mind went completely blank. He didn't even look up. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to think of the right words, the right lie because the truth was far too complicated for a child to understand. A truth that carried pain, betrayal, and more regrets than Zayn could count.

He slowly set the knife down.

Ari looked at him with wide, expectant eyes. “Mommy… everyone at school has a dad. But I don’t. They keep asking me why. They say maybe I don’t have one. Do I?”

Zayn turned around, resting his hands on the counter behind him. His chest ached. Of all the questions he had prepared himself for as a parent this one always haunted him. He had rehearsed answers, thought of explanations, imagined how to speak the truth someday. But today was not that day. Not yet.

He crouched down in front of Ari, gently placing a hand on his small knee.

“Baby,” Zayn began softly, “your dad… is in another city. He’s working right now. That’s why he isn’t here with us.”

Ari’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Zayn nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, really. He’s working very hard. But don’t worry, he’ll come back soon, okay?”

Ari smiled, small dimples forming on his chubby cheeks. “Promise?”

Zayn hesitated for the briefest moment then nodded again. “Promise.”

That one word almost broke him.

Ari beamed, finally satisfied. “Okay! I’ll tell them my daddy’s just working far away!”

Zayn ruffled his hair. “That’s right. Now, let’s get you some food, little man.”

He turned back to the counter, but his hands shook slightly as he picked up the knife again. His heart felt heavy, his eyes burning. The truth clawed at his throat, threatening to rise.

Where is my dad?

Why don’t I have one?

Do I?

The innocence in Ari’s voice kept replaying in his head like a cruel loop. Zayn tried to distract himself by cooking sautéing vegetables, boiling pasta but his mind was spiraling.

He wanted to scream.

Wanted to break.

Zayn stirred the pot harder than necessary, biting his lip.

Ari continued to chat from his stool, swinging his legs back and forth, talking about school and his friends, his words like a soft lullaby that tried to mask the ache in Zayn’s chest.

“…and then Ms. Rachel said I was very smart at reading,” Ari said proudly.

Zayn forced a grin. “That’s amazing, baby. Mommy is so proud of you.”

Ari giggled. “Do you think Daddy will be proud of me too?”

Zayn stopped again.

This time, he closed his eyes, willing the tears not to fall. He doesn’t even know you, baby. He doesn’t deserve to be proud. But those words never made it past his lips.

He turned around and walked over, crouching again so he was eye level with Ari.

“Baby, your daddy… wherever he is, I’m sure if he saw you today, he’d be very, very proud.”

Ari smiled and leaned forward to hug him. “I love you, mommy.”

Zayn held him tightly. “I love you more.”

They had dinner together at the small dining table just the two of them, like always. Ari talked and giggled while eating, messy but happy. Zayn mostly listened, nodding and smiling, all while his thoughts were consumed with Elior.

Did he ever think about Ari? Did he ever regret it? Did he know what kind of pain he left behind?

After dinner, Zayn gave Ari a warm bath, helped him into his pajamas, and read him two bedtime stories before tucking him into bed. Ari fell asleep quickly, fingers curled around his stuffed elephant, his breathing soft and even.

Zayn stood by the door, watching him for a moment. The peaceful look on his face the innocence was both comforting and heartbreaking.

He closed the door quietly behind him and walked back into the living room, slumping onto the couch. His hand covered his face, finally allowing the tears to fall silent, burning, unforgiving.

Everything he had buried inside the betrayal, the single-parent struggles, the constant lying for the sake of protecting his son it all rose like a tidal wave.

He wanted to be strong. He had no choice but to be.

But tonight… he allowed himself this moment of weakness. Just tonight.

Because tomorrow, he’d have to lie again.

Smile again.

Cook breakfast, get Ari dressed, drop him to school play the role of both mother and father.

Zayn looked at the ceiling, whispering into the quiet apartment, “Why, Elior Why?”

No answer came. Just the sound of the ceiling fan and the weight of his silence.

And still, like every night, he whispered the same promise:

“I’ll protect him, even if it’s just me.”

---

Zayn lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, his heart heavy and his mind lost in a storm of thoughts. No matter how much he tried to distract himself, his mind kept going back to Elior. The conversation from earlier kept replaying in his head  Elior's voice, his pain, his accusations.

The ache in his chest grew heavier. Maybe Elior truly believed that he had pushed Aseal to his death. Maybe he needed someone to blame to survive his own grief.

But as Zayn blinked away the tears building in his eyes, another thought pierced his heart Ari. What had Ari done to deserve all this?

He sat up slightly, the moonlight spilling through the window casting soft shadows across the floor. His hand clutched the bedsheet as guilt consumed him. In this whole storm between me and Elior, why is Ari suffering?

Ari was innocent. A sweet little soul who knew nothing of betrayals, heartbreak, or revenge. All he wanted was love, attention, and a safe home. But instead, Zayn had dragged him unknowingly into this mess. He could still hear Ari’s tiny voice from earlier in the kitchen  “Mommy, where’s my dad?” Zayn's heart cracked all over again.

He leaned back, his body trembling. A silent tear rolled down his cheek. I just wanted to protect him. I wanted him to have at least one parent who never lied. But I couldn’t even give him a complete answer. I lied. Again.

And yet, what else could he have done? Tell Ari the truth? That his father possibly hated Zayn? That his birth was part of a painful past neither Zayn nor Elior had ever healed from?

He’s just a child. He doesn’t deserve this. He never did.

The room was quiet, the silence pressing against Zayn’s ears like waves. He turned to look at the little bed next to his. Ari was fast asleep, his small hand clutching his blanket, peaceful and unaware of the storm raging in Zayn’s heart.

Zayn’s lips quivered as he whispered, “I’m sorry, baby… I’m so, so sorry.”

He turned on his side, facing the wall, and tried to hold back his sobs. But his body betrayed him. The tears came, silent and endless, like rain falling in the dark.

And somewhere between the guilt and grief, between the fear of the past and the pain of the present  Zayn drifted into sleep, the tears still wet on his cheeks, holding on to just one hope:

That someday, Ari would forgive him.

That someday… he’d find peace.

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