One Shiney Day

Growing up in isolation, Zeyn knew the bitter taste of loneliness intimately. He had no one to talk to but himself and a family that was not blood-related. Every day, he watched other kids get picked up from school by their parents while he walked the long, eight-kilometer trek back to the orphanage. The young boy deserved none of it, but life unfolded as it did. It taught him resilience, how to stand strong on his own, and how to be independent. It also instilled in him a deep sympathy for others in similar situations. Yet, life never taught him how to crack a joke, how to love correctly, or how to communicate his feelings. To him, opening up was like handing someone a knife to stab him in the back. Distrust became his shield.

Despite growing up among wealthy folks, Zeyn was often the dusty outcast. But today, he had surpassed them all, with many of them now working as his employees.

Layla's upbringing mirrored Zeyn's in some ways but differed significantly in others. Unlike Zeyn, Layla had a place to call home. She had a mother to soothe her broken heart and a father who gave her hope. Because of this, Layla knew how to crack a joke, how to laugh, and how to love correctly. She had been loved and prioritized. Even though she grew up without gold or silver, her heart was pure gold.

On a beautiful spring day, with birds singing and flowers blooming along the Roin River, Zeyn's life seemed brighter now that Layla was a part of it. Feeling unusually light-hearted, Zeyn decided to call her.

"My lady, would you like to go out?" he asked.

Layla laughed. "Mr. That's not a way to ask a lady out!"

Embarrassed, Zeyn stammered, "Are there procedures to this? Okay, enough with formalities. Send your location. I will pick you up at 6 pm."

"Okay, I'll email it."

Time moved swiftly, and at 6 pm sharp, Zeyn arrived in his black Mercedes Benz G-Wagon, dressed in all black with dark glasses. He stood in front of a rusty gate, feeling out of place. Dogs barked noisily, as if they could sense a distinct presence. After a few minutes, Layla appeared, her hair flowing down, red lips shining, and wearing a pure white strapless dress. The scene transformed into one of romantic allure. Zeyn forgot about the ghetto surroundings. When his eyes met Layla's, he was captivated. He moved closer, held her hand, opened the car door for her, and they drove off.

Their destination was Shan, the best restaurant in Beliz. Their entrance was marked by a hush of admiration as they headed to the VIP section.

"The weather is cool today, and you look beautiful," Zeyn remarked.

"Thank you, you smell nice," Layla responded, smiling.

As they settled in, the unexpected happened. Their server was Daine. In a city full of hundreds, if not thousands, of restaurants, Layla and Zeyn found themselves served by Daine.

Daine, though embarrassed, maintained her composure. "Good evening, Mr. Zeyn, Madam. What would you like to order?"

Zeyn smirked. "So, you went eye for an eye?"

Daine smiled tightly. "A lady has to do what needs to be done to survive."

Zeyn leaned back. "One conversation with the manager, and you could be fired here too."

Daine's expression softened slightly. "I served you for five full years, and a thank you would be nice."

Zeyn sighed. "You were quick to act. I had proper remunerations in place for you. I knew you wanted to study further, to relocate to Acra. I was planning to help with all of that. Your actions haven't stopped me from saying thank you, but the remuneration... dream on."

Just then, Zeyn's phone rang. He excused himself to take the call outside. Daine stood there, feeling exposed.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Andrew: Tong Si?" a strange voice asked.

"What?"

"Mrs. Andrew: You speak the language of Earth?"

"Excuse me, I think this is a wrong number."

"Wait, are you the man trending on the news recently with a red eye?"

Zeyn's blood ran cold. "Yes, but those were lies."

The voice grew insistent. "I knew it. Next time, be more careful. Nothing distinct is truly distinct."

"Who are you?" Zeyn demanded.

"My earth name is Mrs. Andrew."

The temperature seemed to plummet, and Zeyn's hands shook as he ended the call. Memories of Akira's warning flooded his mind.

"They have been looking for you, my lord. The Andrews are after your life."

The world around Zeyn darkened, and he felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare, the city burning around him. He struggled to breathe, his vision blurring, until Layla's voice cut through the haze.

"Zeyn, Zeyn..."

Her voice was a beacon, pulling him back from the edge. He blinked, the world coming back into focus. Layla was beside him, her expression concerned.

"Let's go back inside," he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

They returned to their table, but the evening had lost its luster. Zeyn's thoughts were consumed by the ominous phone call and the memories it had stirred. They finished their meal, and he escorted Layla home, his mind elsewhere.

Back at his house, Zeyn took a long shower, trying to wash away the day's events. Exhausted, he collapsed into bed, teetering on the edge of sleep when a familiar figure appeared.

"Akira," he whispered, recognizing the spectral presence.

Akira's face was somber. "You had contact with one of the Andrews? Keep them distracted. Lie if you must. Tell them you have a family on Earth. If they know you're alone, they will dethrone you. And be wary of your guardian. In the end, you do not belong here... Shhh, my time is running out..."

The vision faded, leaving Zeyn alone in the darkness, the weight of Akira's words pressing heavily on his chest. He lay there, staring into the void, knowing that his life had just become infinitely more complicated.