Chapter 162 : Ibrahim's childhood - Part Eight

Ibrahim met his father's gaze head-on. He had grown considerably in the past year, and at his current height, he nearly reached Zafar's eye level. In a few years, he might even surpass Zafar.

"Don't play games with me, Ibrahim," Zafar growled. "I am your father. Don't think for a second that I can't see through your. I know when something is wrong. We both know what I'm talking about. The principal. Why did you kill him?"

"Don't insult my intelligence," Ibrahim said, "If you truly know everything, as you claim, then you already know why the principal ended up like that."

There was a hint of accusation in his tone, "Didn't you teach me the golden rule? Never confess to a crime, not even to your own shadow. Why are you asking me like some child who needs a scolding?"

Zafar asked, "You think this is some schoolyard brawl, Ibrahim? Killing the principal without a shred of planning? Without a single thought for the consequences! Do you have any idea what happens if the wrong people find out about this?

Ibrahim raised an eyebrow, "Prison, I presume? I'll get caught and go to prison. Is that what you're worried about? Me going to some fancy lock-up?"

Zafar stared at his son, "Prison? You think a luxury resort awaits you behind bars? Those places are breeding grounds for violence, disease, corruption. You'd be lucky to survive a week, let alone years." He jabbed a finger at Ibrahim's chest. "You think you're a tough guy now? Wait until you're sharing a cell with hardened criminals who wouldn't hesitate to break you in half for a single cigarette. You wouldn't last a week. There's a time and a place for everything, and you, my son, have much to learn about how this world works."

"Don't tell me about prisons, father," Ibrahim said, "This entire house feels like one already. High walls, locked doors, guards patrolling the grounds... what's the difference between that and a prison cell?"

Zafar's face hardened in disbelief, "What?" 

"You heard me," Ibrahim continued, "I'm tired of this life, tired of the constant scheming and violence. I want out. I want a life where I can breathe, where I can choose my own path. Just... a simple life. Enough of the violence, the fear, the constant feeling that one wrong move could bring the whole house crashing down. I'm suffocating here, Dad. I want to dream of a future that doesn't involve bloodshed."

Zafar threw his head back and let out a harsh laugh, "A simple life? You think you can just walk away from this, Ibrahim? Do you have any idea what a 'simple life' entails? Long hours, meager pay, barely scraping by to put food on the table. Have you ever seen the desperation in the eyes of those who struggle to make ends meet?" 

He leaned closer, "This life, the life we have, it comes with privileges, a certain level of comfort. But it also comes with responsibilities. You don't get to choose just the parts you like, my son. You're in this now, whether you like it or not."

Frustration bubbled up in Ibrahim. He wanted to argue, to tell his father that the luxurious life he offered wasn't what he craved. He yearned for a life where peace mattered more than power, where honesty wasn't a liability. He dreamt of a life filled with peace.

 But before Ibrahim could voice a single thought, Zafar cut him off, his voice rising in a tirade. "Think about it this way," he boomed. "After 10 years, let's say you're working some simple job in a company. That kind of salary wouldn't even keep a roof over your head, let alone support your family. What about your mother and siblings? They're used to a certain lifestyle, nice designer clothes, comfortable homes. You gonna provide that on a basic salary?"

"And what about when you get married? Your wife wants a fancy necklace for your anniversary, a little something special. You gonna be able to afford that on a shoestring budget? It's easy to dream about a simple life in your air-conditioned room, Ibrahim. But the real world, it ain't so simple. Reality bites."

Zafar's words hit Ibrahim like a bucket of cold water. Each harsh sentence chipped away at Ibrahim's dream of a simple life. Living a simple life seemed more like a fantasy than ever. He had everything money could buy, yet nothing truly belonged to him. He was forced to play a role he didn't understand.

His eyes ached to release the pain that had become too heavy to bear. Ibrahim wanted to cry badly like a baby that night. 

On the other side of the coin, Zafar was trapped too. He couldn't allow his son to be weak. The mafia world was a ruthless game, and its leader needed to be strong, decisive, and willing to do whatever it took to maintain power. Zafar saw Ibrahim as his heir, the one to carry on his legacy. But the son he was grooming was turning out to be the opposite – soft, hesitant, yearning for a life Zafar couldn't offer.

The boy who could kill a principal just to admit his sister in school – that boy had the ruthlessness needed in this world. Zafar knew Ibrahim was capable of great darkness. Afterall he was Ibrahim's teacher. And no one understood a student better than their teacher.

"Speaking of school, I've been thinking about Zainab's admission. I've reconsidered. She can go to the same school as you and Samir." This unexpected announcement of Zainab caught Ibrahim completely off guard. He tore his gaze away from the moonlit sky and stared at his father, "You're serious?" This was more than he could have expected.

"Yes," Zafar nodded, "but there are conditions. One, Zainab's name will be changed. From Zainab Rahman to Zainab Khan. I can't have anyone suspecting I have a third child, especially a girl. It would attract unwanted attention. But after her admission, there will be no contact between you and Samir with Zainab at school. You make sure no one figures out she's your sister. You are strangers. Understood?"

Ibrahim clenched his fists, the moonlight glinting off his tight knuckles.

Zafar continued, "The second condition is this: you forget about this fantasy of a simple life. No more talk of it. If you agree to these terms, I will allow Zainab to attend your school."

The silence was too silent. The gentle breeze that had been rustling the leaves moments ago seemed to hold its breath.

Ibrahim couldn't deny his father's conditions. For Zainab he would sacrifice anything. The constant fighting between his parents over her education had become unbearable. Though he hated the thought of erasing a part of her with a name change. Every fiber of his being rebelled against changing his sister's name, against pretending she was a stranger, the love for his sister outweighed everything else. But he just wanted peace, a desperate hope that sacrificing his own desires might bring some semblance of calm to their fractured home. Ibrahim would rather swallow his dreams, than see his sister's dreams crushed.

Peace begins when expectations end, so expect nothing from no one. He couldn't expect his life to be different, couldn't expect his father to change. The only thing he could control was his own choices, and in this moment, he chose Zainab.

Ibrahim's pain was visible under the full moon. It felt like the moon was speaking to him, telling him that things would get better. He often spent nights gazing at the stars, dreaming of studying astronomy, of unraveling the mysteries of the universe. The moon was like a friend to him. 

However, Ibrahim didn't realize that he would have to give up his dream of studying astronomy in the future. The bond he shared with the moon would soon be overshadowed by the sacrifices he would have to make in his life.

Ibrahim agreed, "As you wish, Dad."

Zafar saw his victory and seized the moment. He placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Ibrahim's shoulder, "That's my son. That's my lion."

Ibrahim offered a strained smile in return. As he turned to leave towards the mansion, Zafar's voice stopped him. 

"Hold on. Starting tommorow I'll begin your new training about how to handle the aftermath .... how to make things disappear, how to turn a murder into a natural death."

Little did Zafar know, the student would soon become the teacher. In four years, in the year 2006, the tables would turn. Ibrahim would kill his own father and make it appear in natural. 

 THE SUN WATCHES WHAT HE DOES. 

 BUT THE MOON KNOWS ALL HIS SECRETS.....

(Back to the present time.)

(Year 2023, 13th December.) 

(Time 17:47)

A insistent rapping on the door made Ibrahim awake. He lurched forward, his back screaming in protest after hours slumped against the bed frame. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, clinging to his skin in clammy patches. Even the cool tiles beneath his bare feet felt damp. He hadn't bothered with the air conditioner or the fan earlier before sleeping.

How long had he been asleep? Had he truly fallen asleep? How could he have drifted off when Ava was missing? Two hours, at least. Two precious hours wasted when he should have been searching.

He glanced down at Tasha who curled up peacefully in his lap. Her food bowl lay empty – finally she ate.

Another knock on the door. Ibrahim ran a hand through Tasha's fur one last time before pushing himself to his feet. With a deep breath, he opened the door.

Standing in the doorway was Yasmeen, "Sir, Ava ma'am's friends are here to see you."

"Who?"

"Farah and Mahi, sir," Yasmeen replied.

"Is Samir home?" Ibrahim asked. 

Yasmeen nodded, "Yes, sir."

Ibrahim gave a curt nod. "Tell Samir to see to them," he instructed. "I'll be there later."

Yasmeen inclined her head in a polite nod and Ibrahim closed the door. There were so many works for him to do today. He had to meet the villager who claimed to have seen Ava, a lead he couldn't afford to ignore. But first, he needed a shower.