Zian And Sarah

Zain stood frozen, his body trembling as he stared at his mother—the woman he had longed to see for what felt like an eternity. The sight of her, so young and full of life, shattered whatever composure he had left.

Tears welled up in his eyes before spilling over, running down his face in silent sobs. He cried like a lost child, just as he used to when he couldn't find her back when he was little.

But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he screamed inside his head, his voice couldn't reach her.

The violet cocoon around him, pulsing softly, muffled his every sound, isolating him from the world he so desperately wanted to return to.

"Please, just one minute just let me talk to her," he begged, turning to Mr. Oberoy, his voice thick with desperation. "Just a minute… That's all I need."

Oberoy, standing beside him with his arms crossed, sighed. "Zain, you know I can't do that. It's dangerous not just for you, but for her too."

Zain clenched his fists. "I don't care about danger! I just want to see her… just once more."

But Oberoy remained unmoved. "If you interfere, it could change everything, and not necessarily for the better."

Zain gritted his teeth, his emotions spiraling out of control.

How was he supposed to just stand here and watch, powerless, when the very person he lost was right in front of him?

How was he supposed to ignore the pain clawing at his chest?

But before he could protest further, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled his attention away.

The wooden door creaked open, and a towering figure stepped inside.

A man wearing a white shirt and black pants that appeared slightly old and worn out, suggesting they were either quite old or made from low-quality fabric.

Broad shoulders, thick muscles stretching against a simple linen shirt, and brown hair reaching his shoulders. He was so tall—at least 6'2" that he had to duck slightly to enter through the 6-foot doorway. His hands, rough and strong, bore the marks of a blacksmith, a craftsman who had spent his life forging weapons and armor for the colonial government.

Zain's breath caught in his throat.

He knew exactly who this was.

Zian Miller.

His father.

A younger, livelier version of the man he had once known.

"Sarah, what are you looking for?" Zian asked, smiling as he shut the door behind him.

His voice was deep, warm, carrying a natural authority. And yet, despite his intimidating build, there was a gentleness in his eyes a kindness that most wouldn't expect from a man his size.

"Nothing, honey," Sarah replied, glancing at the open window. "I just thought someone was here… Maybe it was just a cat."

Zian chuckled. "Oh dear, you're always so sensitive to sounds."

He stepped forward and, before Zain could even react, wrapped his strong arms around Sarah's waist from behind.

Zain's face burned.

Oberoy, of course, chose this exact moment to burst into laughter.

"Oh ho! Your father was quite the romantic!" Oberoy teased, nudging Zain with his elbow.

Zain groaned, looking anywhere but at his overly affectionate parents.

"Can we not do this right now?" he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Oberoy only laughed harder.

But before Zain could recover from his embarrassment, his father spoke again.

"So, Sarah," Zian said, voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper, "it's been six months since our wedding…"

Zain's stomach twisted.

No.

No, no, no...

"Do you think it's time we had a baby?"

Zain nearly choked on his own spit.

What.

WHAT?!

Zian, completely oblivious to the crisis his words had just caused in his time-traveling son, leaned down, whispering sweetly into Sarah's ear. "How many do you think we should have? Three? Five? What do you say, my love?"

Zain blanched.

Oberoy howled in laughter.

"Your father is quite hardworking, huh?" he teased, wiping fake tears from his eyes.

Zain, now redder than a ripe tomato.

"Shut Up!" He shouted.

But Oberoy was relentless. "I mean, really, this man is planning a whole football team."

Zain wanted to disappear. Or die. Either option seemed preferable to this.

Meanwhile, Sarah, equally flustered, ducked her head shyly. "N-no, we'll have just two, a boy and a girl."

Her voice was so soft it was barely above a whisper, but in the silence of the night, both men heard her clearly.

Zian grinned. "Only two? So, should we start making one now?"

Before Sarah could react, Zian swept her off her feet, carrying her in bridal-style towards the bedroom.

Zain's soul left his body.

He wasn't just witnessing his parents being affectionate—he was witnessing the potential beginning of his own existence.

This was officially the worst moment of his entire life.

"THIS IS ILLEGAL!" Zain whisper-yelled, clutching his head in horror.

Oberoy, now practically rolling on the floor, wheezed between laughs. "At least try to give them some privacy, you pervert! Spying on your own conception? Tsk, tsk, Zain!"

"I AM NOT WATCHING THIS!"

Zain scrambled to turn around, but his father's next words stopped him dead.

"Sarah, I'll make sure our child is strong and capable. He will be the best thing I've ever created."

"We will raise our child into a great person." Zain looked into his wife's eyes, which sparkled like stars, before walking toward the other room.

Zain froze.

He wasn't sure why, but something about those words… felt warm.

A lump formed in his throat.

For all the embarrassment, for all the awkwardness of this situation, there was one undeniable truth,

His father had loved him. Even before he existed.

A smile tugged at Zain's lips.

Maybe this wasn't entirely the worst moment of his life.

As he sees his father carrying his mother in other room, But, Before Zian could close the bedroom door, something outrageous happened that Zain has never expected...