Broken

Chapter 9: Shadows return

The early morning light filtered through the large windows of Fatima's foyer as she zipped up her baby pink Miu workout jacket. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the city waking up outside. She turned to Jose, who was dressed in his workout attire, looking ready and determined.

"Ready to go, Ms. Wilson?" Jose asked, his voice steady.

"I am. You look nice," Fatima replied, taking in his outfit with a hint of a smile.

"I'm prepared this time," Jose said with a grin. "Last time, you ran too fast, and I almost lost you."

Fatima chuckled, adjusting her jacket. "I hope you can keep up today."

"I hope so too," Jose said, opening the door for her.

Fatima stepped outside, taking a few moments to do some light stretches while waiting for him. Jose followed suit, stretching his arms as Fatima began jogging on the spot.

"Ready?" she asked, glancing back at him.

"After you," he replied, pointing ahead.

Fatima nodded and took off, her pace steady and determined. Running was her escape, a way to clear her mind when stress became overwhelming. With a busy schedule and no vacation in sight, the morning run was the closest thing she could get to a break.

As she glanced back, she saw Jose a few feet behind her, struggling to keep up. She chuckled softly, appreciating his dedication. Despite not enjoying the runs, he always accompanied her, a silent testament to his commitment and loyalty. Fatima admired his effort, knowing that his support was invaluable, even if he could never quite match her pace.
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A sharp knock on Zac's door pierced through the silence, pulling him from the remnants of sleep. Groggily, he reached over to shut off his alarm, the knocking growing more persistent. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and yelled, "I'm coming!"

"Zachary!" his mother's voice called out, unmistakable and slightly impatient.

Zac sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up, running a hand through his tousled hair, and made his way to the door. As he opened it, he found his mother, Tia, standing there with a warm smile and a plate of food in her hands.

"I made you breakfast," she said, holding out the plate.

Zac smiled gratefully, taking the plate from her. "Thanks, Ma."

Tia raised an eyebrow, eyeing him carefully. "Drunk night?" she asked, a knowing tone in her voice.

Zac sighed, running his hand down his face as if to wipe away the remnants of the night before. "Not exactly a drunk night. I did have a few too many tequila shots, that's all," he said with a shrug, trying to downplay the situation.

Tia nodded, her expression softening with concern. "Is this case against Fatima Wilson that intense?" she asked, her eyes searching his.

Zac hesitated for a moment, not wanting to worry her. "No. A little..." he trailed off, unsure of how to articulate the complexity of the situation. The case, Fatima, and everything surrounding it were tangled in a web of emotions and uncertainties he hadn't anticipated.

"Don't overwork yourself," Tia gently reminded him, pecking his cheek before turning to leave. Zac watched her go, closing the door behind her. He walked into the kitchen, placing the plate down on the counter. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, and he knew he needed to clear it. The gym was always his sanctuary for such moments.

After warming up his breakfast, Zac ate quickly, then got dressed in his workout gear. Grabbing his gym bag, he headed out, determined to sweat out the stress. As he stepped off the elevator into the lobby, he was greeted by a familiar face—Diana, dressed in a sleek black matching workout set.