Chapter 9 - The Maze of Shadows

Flashback

The sound of breaking glass shattered the silence.

Twelve-year-old Zayan flinched, his small hands gripping the bedsheet as he sat curled in the corner of his room. Another crash echoed through the house, followed by the sharp, furious voice of his father.

"You think you can humiliate me in front of them?"

His mother's voice was quieter, trembling. "I wasn't trying to—"

SLAP.

The sound of skin meeting skin rang in the air.

Zayan pressed his hands against his ears. He knew what would come next. It had happened before.

His mother would fall silent. His father would keep yelling, throwing things, reminding them both of their place in his world.

"You're raising a coward!"

Zayan's breath caught. This time, it was about him.

"That boy—he's weak. I see it in his eyes. I see it in the way he flinches. He'll never be a man."

The words sliced through him like glass.

His mother didn't defend him.

She never did.

She never could.

Zayan bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. He wanted to disappear. To run. To escape.

But there was nowhere to go.

Not in this house.

Not in this life.

A sharp thud. A door slamming. Silence.

Zayan curled up tighter, his nails digging into his arms.

And in that moment, he made a promise to himself.

One day, he would never be weak again.

One day, he would become Strong.

The storm outside raged on.

Just as the one inside him had begun.

•The Mysterious Invitation 

The warehouse was empty. The silence felt unnatural, like a vacuum had sucked the air out of the room. Haider's pulse pounded in his ears as he stepped forward, his shoes crunching against the dust-covered floor.

Abrish was gone. The old man had vanished.

And he was alone.

The only sound was the distant echo of the storm outside, thunder rumbling like a beast growling in the dark.

Then—a single overhead light flickered to life.

A chair sat in the center of the room. On it, a brown envelope.

Haider hesitated before picking it up. The paper felt aged, fragile in his hands. He tore it open, heart hammering.

Inside was a photograph.

His father.

Standing next to the old man.

And behind them—a young Abrish, barely fourteen, her eyes hollow, her face pale.

Haider's breath caught. The past was bleeding into the present, and he didn't even know why.

•A Ghost from the Past

The envelope also contained a note.

"You want answers? Follow the map."

A small, roughly drawn map was sketched beneath the words. It led to an address near the docks.

Haider clenched his jaw. This was a game. Someone was pulling the strings, and he was just another piece on their board.

But he wasn't going to sit back and watch.

He stormed out of the warehouse and into the rain, his coat whipping in the wind as he got into his car. The city blurred past him, neon lights reflecting off the wet roads.

His mind raced.

What did his father have to do with Abrish's past?

Why was he being dragged into this now, after all these years?

And why had Abrish not told him before?

The questions burned in his mind as he reached the docks.

Flashback – When It All Began

The university courtyard buzzed with life. Groups of students sat scattered across the benches and grass, some buried in books, others lost in laughter. The autumn air carried the faint scent of rain, crisp and fresh.

Zayan wasn't paying attention to any of it.

He sat alone on the steps outside the library, flipping a pen between his fingers, eyes lost in the distance. The usual smirk he wore was absent. Today, he wasn't in the mood for games.

"You're going to break that pen if you keep doing that."

He looked up, startled.

Abrish.

She stood a few steps away, tilting her head slightly, watching him with those sharp, knowing eyes.

Zayan arched a brow. "And if I do?"

She shrugged. "Then I suppose you'll have one less thing to pretend you're in control of."

That made him pause.

Few people dared to talk to him like that. Fewer still could see through him so easily.

He let out a small chuckle. "Deep words for someone I barely know."

Abrish sat down beside him without invitation. "I've seen you around. You talk a lot, but you say very little."

"And you listen a lot but assume too much," he shot back.

A small smile played at her lips. "Am I wrong?"

Zayan didn't answer.

Because she wasn't.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Not the awkward kind. The kind that felt like something unspoken had settled between them.

"I get it, you know," she said finally. "The whole 'stay distant, act untouchable' thing. Makes life easier."

Zayan studied her, intrigued. "And how would you know?"

Her fingers traced invisible patterns on the stone steps. "Let's just say... I've learned a few things about walls."

A breeze ruffled her hair, and for the first time, Zayan noticed the weight in her gaze. Like she was carrying something too heavy for words.

He didn't push.

Maybe that was the moment it started.

Not a friendship. Not yet.

Just a quiet understanding between two people who knew what it was like to hide.

To build walls.

To pretend.

And neither of them realized, in that fleeting moment, how much they would come to mean to each other—or how much they would one day break each other.

•The Meeting at the Docks

The docks were deserted. The air smelled of salt and rusted metal. Old shipping containers loomed in the darkness, their shadows stretching long under the dim streetlights.

Haider stepped forward cautiously.

A voice cut through the night.

"You came."

Haider turned sharply.

Abrish stood near the edge of the dock, her hair damp from the mist, her arms wrapped around herself.

"You disappeared," Haider said, his voice sharp. "What the hell is going on?"

She looked down. "I had to."

"Had to what?" His patience was wearing thin. "Leave me in the dark? Let me think you were in danger?"

She sighed, meeting his gaze. "I needed to know if you would come."

Haider exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Abrish, stop playing games. That man—he said my father ruined your family. Is it true?"

Her expression tightened.

A moment of silence stretched between them.

Then, softly, she said, "Yes."

Haider felt the ground shift beneath him.

"My father was a businessman," Abrish continued, her voice steady but filled with old pain. "And he made a deal with your father. A deal that cost him everything."

Haider's fists clenched. "What kind of deal?"

Abrish took a deep breath. "Your father… he betrayed mine. Stole from him. Left him drowning in debt. And when my father tried to fight back, he disappeared."

Haider stared at her. "Disappeared?"

She swallowed hard. "They never found his body."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Haider took a step back, his mind reeling. This wasn't just about business. It was about something darker, something buried deep in the past.

And now, it was resurfacing.

•The Hunt for the Truth

"I don't know what really happened," Abrish admitted. "But that man—the one in the warehouse—he does."

Haider's jaw tightened. "Who is he?"

She hesitated. "His name is Kamran Malik. He was once your father's closest friend."

Haider shook his head. "I've never heard of him."

"You wouldn't have." She gave a bitter smile. "Because your father made sure to erase him."

Haider's stomach twisted. "And now he's back?"

Abrish nodded. "And he's looking for revenge."

The wind howled through the docks, waves crashing against the wooden pillars beneath them.

Haider exhaled. "Where do we find him?"

Abrish pulled out a small piece of paper and placed it in his hand.

"Here," she whispered.

A location.

Haider looked at her, something unreadable in his gaze.

"Are you with me in this?" he asked.

Abrish met his eyes. "I always was."

The storm raged on.

And as they left the docks, Haider knew—there was no turning back now.

•Flashback – Darkest Night

The house was dark, the air thick with tension. Fourteen-year-old Abrish sat curled in the corner of her bedroom, listening to the muffled voices downstairs.

She knew something was wrong.

Her father had been acting strange for weeks—whispering on the phone, locking his study door, pacing restlessly. And tonight, there was a new voice. A man's voice. Cold, sharp, dangerous.

Abrish pressed her ear against the wooden door.

"...You think you can just walk away from this?"

Her father's voice trembled. "I didn't steal from him. I swear, I didn't."

A cruel laugh followed. "Then why is the money missing? Why is your business collapsing overnight?"

Silence.

Then—her father's broken whisper.

"Because Mr. Khan made sure of it."

Abrish's heart clenched. Haider's father.

The man's voice dropped lower. "You have one week to pay up, or you and your family will disappear. Like the others."

A chair scraped against the floor.

Her father's voice rose, desperate. "Please, I have a daughter—"

A loud bang.

Abrish flinched.

Footsteps. A door slamming.

Silence.

Terror gripped her. She ran downstairs, but her father was gone.

Her mother stood frozen in the living room, eyes wide, hands shaking.

Abrish grabbed her arm. "Where is Baba?"

Her mother didn't answer.

That was the night her world fell apart.

And now, after all these years, the past was coming for them again.

To Be Continued…