Chapter 42: Facing the Past

It had been two weeks since Zafar and Zoha had begun working on their plans for the shelter. The idea had been born out of Zoha's deep love for children and her desire to help those in need, and Zafar had supported her wholeheartedly. He had even begun looking into potential spaces, business proposals, and legal requirements. For the first time in a long while, Zafar felt a sense of hope. Hope for the future. Hope for a family. Hope for love.

But as they ventured further into making their dreams a reality, the past wasn't willing to let them go so easily.

The Meeting That Changed Everything

Zafar had insisted on meeting a potential partner who could help fund the shelter, someone who had once been part of his inner circle—a business associate who was well-connected, wealthy, and influential. Zoha, while hesitant, agreed to the meeting, trusting Zafar's judgment.

They arrived at a sleek office building in the heart of the city, a stark contrast to the warmth of their home. Zafar's demeanor had shifted from relaxed to tense as they entered the building. Zoha noticed the change immediately, but said nothing. She was used to his quiet confidence, but this was different.

They were escorted into a large, cold conference room, where a man with sharp features and a calculating gaze sat waiting for them.

"Zafar, Zoha," the man greeted, his voice smooth. "It's been a long time."

Zafar's jaw clenched, but he didn't respond right away. Instead, his eyes narrowed. "You're still involved in business, I see."

The man—Nashir Malik—smiled, though there was little warmth in it. "Some things never change. So, what brings you here today?" His gaze shifted to Zoha, sizing her up.

Zoha, despite herself, felt a shiver run down her spine. There was something unsettling about the way Nashir looked at her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, glancing at Zafar.

Zafar's grip on his chair tightened. He knew Nashir well, and the man's reputation was not a good one. Nashir had been part of the dark side of Zafar's business dealings, a man who never hesitated to do whatever it took to get ahead—whether that meant bending the law or hurting others.

"We're planning to build a shelter for women and children," Zafar said, his voice firm. "I'm looking for someone who can help with the funding. You're someone who can make that happen."

Nashir's smile deepened, but there was an underlying edge to it. "A shelter, huh? For women and children. Noble cause, Zafar. But why do I feel like there's more to it?"

Zafar didn't flinch. "There's nothing more to it. I'm doing this for Zoha. For us. And I want to make sure we can provide the resources and support to those who need it."

Zoha watched the exchange, her heart racing. Nashir's gaze was still fixed on her, his eyes cold. "And why should I help you?" he asked, his voice low, almost mocking. "What's in it for me?"

Zafar's fists clenched under the table. He knew this man all too well. Nashir wasn't interested in helping anyone unless there was something in it for him. And Zafar had no intention of giving him anything.

"You don't need to worry about that," Zafar replied, his voice hard. "I don't owe you anything, Nashir. And I'm not asking for your charity. I'm asking for your partnership. You know what kind of man I am. And you know the kind of man I was. But I'm not that person anymore."

Nashir leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "Interesting. So you've gone soft, Zafar. Is that what this is about? I knew you had a weakness, but I didn't realize it was her." He nodded toward Zoha.

Zoha's breath caught in her throat. She could feel Zafar's anger radiating through the room, and it made her uneasy. She had never seen him like this before. He had always been calm, in control. But this man? This man was a reminder of the darkness Zafar had left behind.

"I'm warning you, Nashir," Zafar said, his voice like ice. "Stay away from Zoha. Don't even think about making this personal. I came here to talk business, not to discuss my life."

The room fell silent, the tension thick. Zoha could feel it in the pit of her stomach. There was something dangerous in the air, something she couldn't ignore.

Nashir chuckled darkly. "Fine. We'll see how long your little fairy tale lasts, Zafar. But remember, the past always catches up with you. And when it does, it'll tear you apart. You can't escape it."

The Aftermath

As soon as they left the building, Zafar's calm exterior shattered. His fists slammed into the steering wheel as he drove, the car lurching forward with each motion. Zoha sat beside him, her hand gripping the armrest, but she didn't speak.

She knew that Zafar was battling something deep inside himself, something tied to his past, something that would never fully let him go. But Zoha also knew that whatever happened, she wouldn't let him face it alone.

The ride home was silent, and once they reached the house, Zafar didn't immediately get out of the car. He just sat there, staring at the road ahead, his jaw clenched tightly. Zoha didn't push him, but she placed her hand on his arm, her touch soft but insistent.

Zafar looked at her then, his eyes dark with frustration and anger. "I thought I was done with people like him," he said quietly. "But every time I try to move forward, someone like him shows up to pull me back into the darkness."

Zoha's heart ached for him. "You're not alone, Zafar. You have me. We're in this together. You don't have to face him—or anyone—by yourself."

Zafar exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I don't want to drag you into this, Zoha. It's not your fight."

But Zoha shook her head, her voice steady. "It is my fight. It's our fight. I won't stand by and let you fight this alone."

Zafar looked at her, his eyes softening for the first time that day. "I don't deserve you."

Zoha smiled gently. "But you have me anyway. And I'm not going anywhere."