shattered souls By Afsheen k.

moment of regret

Zayyan muniz

"I don’t care what you have to do—just get me results by next week!" My voice echoes through the office as I glare at my personal assistant, who’s trembling at the door.

Profits are down by 2%, and it’s all because of my assistant’s incompetence. I don’t tolerate mistakes—I can’t afford to. I’m always one step ahead, always prepared, but there’s one mistake that haunts me, one I can’t shake. It happened two weeks ago, right in front of my son, Arhan. I’ve done everything to make it up to him, but he’s still scared, still asking if I’ll be a ghost again. The memory stings, and I can’t forget how I lashed out at that woman, even though her words were harsh but true. Yet, I don’t take orders from anyone, especially not from someone trying to play boss with me.

"Y-yes, boss," my assistant stammers, scrambling out of the office as if his life depends on it.

It’s 6 AM, and I promised Arhan we’d play today. But promises are fragile in my world. Plans change. Now, I have a crucial meeting with my Japanese investors. I’ll make it up to him later. First, I need to find a nanny. I pull up the Nannys.in website and quickly appoint someone for the next eight hours. Arhan refuses to stay with the cooks—they’re too old and boring for him. Nannys.in is my only option, and at least it’s reputable.

The nanny will arrive at one. That gives me just enough time to finish my paperwork. My life has always revolved around work—it used to be my only priority. Then Arhan came along, and everything shifted. But now, I feel the old version of me creeping back—the one who’s drunk and reckless, the one who let his demons slip out two weeks ago.

It’s ironic, really. You can have everything and still feel like you have nothing. But I won’t endanger my son because of my own mess. I’ll never make that mistake again. Loneliness has always been my closest companion. Even surrounded by people, there’s this emptiness, like a piece of me is missing. Work is the only thing that fills that void, the only thing that keeps me from drowning in it. The people at this company—they work for me, they respect me, but they’re not my family. Family is supposed to stand by you when you fall, and they won’t. If I lose this company, they’ll all disappear, not that it matters. I have to carry my father’s legacy, even though he’s gone. That’s why this meeting is so critical. Failure is not an option.

I leave the office at noon, making a point to stop by and pick up chocolates and ice cream for Arhan. After a 45-minute drive, I pull up to my house. It’s an old Victorian mansion, a relic of my father’s wealth and power. It’s too big, too empty for just the two of us. Even with the cooks and gardeners, it feels hollow.

As I step out of the car and start walking toward the front door, I hear a voice call from behind me.

"Excuse me, sir! Are you the one who hired a nanny for today?"

I turn, and my eyes lock onto hers—black, intense, and all too familiar. It’s her. The same woman who helped Arhan that day. She’s dressed modestly, with a scarf wrapped around her head and elegant, understated clothing that somehow makes her presence even more striking. Her features are soft yet commanding, like a tulip garden in full bloom, but with the strength of a storm brewing beneath the surface. She’s smiling, but there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes, and the smile quickly fades.

"You?" she says, her voice laced with disbelief and a hint of disdain.

I let out a long, weary sigh. "Here we go again."