Besabriyan

30|THIRTY

He had planned to not have thoughts to bet on his father's call for a meeting. Zaviyar had managed to look as normal as possible when he turned around and found his wife sitting in her chair and fidgeting with a coaster- lost in her thoughts. He knew what she was already feeling about Noorul Ain and she was caught off-guard when he told her about not meeting the other woman until later next month. She tried not to display much of her inner turmoil but she wasn't hiding her concerns.

Zaviyar pushed himself off the elevator wall when it dinged at his floor, waiting for the door to open. The bustling and the chattering that he usually walked into was nonexistent, instead of which he was welcomed by an utter silence. His brows furrowed as he gave a curt nod to those who greeted him. He didn't mind much about the commotion in the morning since they tended to fall silent once they got completely busy with their work later on. There was a sharp tension in the air as if it strangled them to speak a word about it to him.

He caught a sight of Taimoor moping around the floor who then ran away to his desk upon seeing Zaviyar before the he could walk up to Taimoor. His eyes then looked around for his assistant and Maha wasn't on her desk. It was his company but it didn't feel like it. It was as though he relapsed to the period when Meraki was under his father. The employees preferred silence because they valued their places in the company and feared Yahya Ali Dawar to death. It took a minute to strike as his brain was still hazy from all of what he witnessed but it was possible. It was possible that his father was in Meraki. It was possible because he was already seeking out to meet his son for a talk.

Filling his lungs with air and tilting his head at Taimoor for one last time before taking off to his father's office which was unused and untouched after he walked down from his position. The adjacent one to his office that they used to meet clients who worked with his father. It was comfortable to talk business in a familiar air, they said although he didn't catch on much of it except that they were assertive about their places in the company's growth. He cared less but he had to cater.

He flung the door open only to find it rather emptier than ever. He had asked his employees to clean it and take everything of no use out. With only the empty desk and a chair sitting in its place, the feeling of familiarity faded away. It was the place where twelve years Zaviyar used to sit with his knees drawn up, listening to how his father dealt with business. He got older and the training got severe. Initially it was only the weekends which gradually crept into weekdays evening, mostly after school. He was trained like a slave and not like someone who they called a heir.

His mood sour as he loosened his tie and opened a button on the top striding into his office but the moment he did, his feet halted a few steps away from the doorway upon seeing Maha standing with a folder and hugging it to her chest- her eyes rolling to eye him something. There sat his father on his chair in his complete glory, examining the papers that he examined a day before.

The man adjusted his glass on his nose as he looked above from the papers, dropping them back on the desk and standing up. He beckoned Maya to leave and she left, muttering sorry to him on her way out. He wasn't expecting her to stay there and he would have sent her out had it not been for her father. His life was already made enough fun of in front of the people, he wanted nothing more of it and he would do anything to make sure of it.

"Is that how you dress up for your work, Zaviyar?" Ali Dawar sahb asked, eyeing his opened button- his tone stern.

Subconsciously, he looked ambushed before he realized that the old man was baiting him, "Why, I used to show up in cartoon t-shirts and shorts, remember?" He fired back. The last thing he wanted was to cave in. His day ruined as it already was.

"I didn't come here to listen to your nonsense. Let me get to my point." He said, walking over to the couch and giving his son his seat.

"Gladly." He took his seat, a feeling of being at home washed over him. It had been days since he felt like it. The days until yesterday and until he decided to sort it out with his wife were like the period of time spent in prison.