AmarBail

Zavyar's past (chapter 2)

Zaviyar had gradually learned to endure Alia Sahiba's wrath, growing accustomed to a life shaped by the consequences of his parents' love. At school, he was an outcast, never treated with the same regard as Hassan.

His routine became a solitary one, though his uncle and aunts showed him kindness. Whenever they visited, Rumysa, the only friend he had, would play with him in his confined world. The two family homes were connected by a gate within the house, and from his window, Zavyar could often glimpse his uncle's residence.

One day, as Zavyar was studying, Rumysa burst into his room, tears brimming in her eyes. She was the source of his happiness, and seeing her in distress troubled him deeply. It was his birthday, but instead of joy, he felt a heavy emptiness. He had turned seven, while Hassan and Rumysa were now five and a half.

Rumysa rushed to him, wrapping her small arms around his waist. "Zavy, they're leaving without me," she whispered, her voice trembling. Zavyar gently led her to the bed, trying to soothe her fears. "Rumy, they're just going for Hajj. They'll be back soon," he reassured her. She would stay with her taya during their absence, a blessing for Zavyar, who had no friends other than her.

Seeing her upset pained him, but his own sadness weighed heavily on his heart. "What's bothering you today?" Rumysa asked, sensing his unease. Zavyar pretended to be absorbed in his studies, trying to avoid the conversation. "Don't bother me, Rumysa," he said gruffly. Tears welled up in her eyes once more. Hearing her soft sobs, Zavyar immediately regretted his harsh words. "Yar, why are you crying?" he asked, his voice softening. "Zavy, you scolded me," she replied, her voice quivering. Zavyar sighed, feeling guilty. "I didn't mean to, Rumy. I just need to study," he explained, before lying down beside her.

Rumysa's tears soon dried up. "But who will play with me now? Hassan doesn't want to, and Mehrunisa has gone to her village with her parents," she lamented, her voice full of disappointment.

Just then, Mustafa Shah entered the room with a bright smile. "Zavyar!" he called out warmly. Both children turned towards him, and Rumysa ran to him, hugging him tightly. "Uncle!" she exclaimed, her earlier sadness forgotten. "Why is this little doll crying?" he asked, gently wiping her tears.

"Zavy isn't talking to me, and he scolded me," she complained, while Zavyar kept his eyes on his books.

Mustafa Shah chuckled softly. "It's because he thought his father forgot his birthday," he teased, his eyes twinkling. Rumysa's face lit up with surprise. "Zavy, it's your birthday?" she asked excitedly. Mustafa nodded. "I'm sorry, Zavy. Happy birthday! Let's celebrate now!"

But Zavyar couldn't shake the feeling of being his father's secret, an embarrassment hidden from the world. Unlike Hassan and his sister, his birthday was never something to be openly celebrated.

To his surprise, Hassan and his little sister waddled into the room, carrying a cake. The servants had already set up the table, and the floor was decorated with festive flair. This was how Zavyar Shah celebrated his birthday—in secret, away from prying eyes, so the world wouldn't see him as the offspring of Mustafa Sahab and a scandalous actress.

"I want this part of the cake," Rumysa declared, pointing to a section. Hassan stuck out his tongue, "I'm taking this side," he countered. Rumysa's face flushed with anger. "No, Zavy, tell him I get this piece," she demanded, her eyes pleading with him. Mustafa Shah watched the scene unfold, knowing that Zavyar would avoid choosing sides by handing the knife to Yasmin instead.

Hassan looked at Zavyar with hope in his eyes. "No, he'll give me this side," he insisted. Zavyar sighed

It became increasingly difficult for him. Rumysa glanced at Hassan, who, in turn, shot a look at Zavyar. "Zavyar," Hassan called out, his tone demanding. Zavyar found himself caught between the two, uncertain of what to do. "Zavyar," Hassan repeated, this time more insistently.