Chapter 41 Ian

Chapter 41 Ian
Zayd: Ian

I sat there for a second, letting his words settle into me as I tried to push back the dreadful feeling that was creeping up my skin.

"Depends on my performance." I let out a short laugh, humorless. "That’s old. You think I don't know the game by now?"

The old man didn't even look up. "It's not a game, Zayd."

"Everything's a game to you. You just don't like it when someone else understands the rules better than you would prefer."

That statement barely got his attention as eyes lifted from the tablet, calm as ever, but I caught that flicker of something calculating behind the stillness. He was recalculating me again, like he did every single time I said something he least expected, something that didn't fit the version of me he kept in his head.

"You can't touch her," I said again, quieter this time, because I needed him to actually hear it and not just register it as noise.

"I don't need to touch her." He set the tablet down fully now, both hands resting over it. 

"Speaking of her background, it's rather interesting. I don't even need to do anything. I will sit back and watch everything play out."

The corners of his lips lifted very slightly into an amused smile. It was obviously not a real smile. Razlan didn't do real smiles. 

It was the smile of a lazy old fox who didn't need to hunt because everyone else brought the prey to his doorstep.

I felt something cold slide down the back of my neck but I didn't ask what he meant. 

Asking would mean giving him the satisfaction of watching me want to know. So I just held his gaze for a second longer, then stood up and walked out without another word. 

Matt said something behind me — probably to Razlan, probably about me — but I didn't care enough to catch it.

The car ride gave me too much time to think, which was the last thing I wanted. Every version of what "her background" could mean ran through my head, each one worse than the last. 

I didn't like not knowing things. I especially didn't like not knowing things about Amrah. I know she is the only daughter of Van-Authr, everyone knows that as well.

What does that old man know that I don’t!

I told the driver to take me to the orphanage instead of going back to school. I needed something that didn't require thinking.

\-----

The Director, Ms. Behnaz, met me at the door like she always did, her whole face lighting up the second she saw me.

“You finally visit us” she beamed pulling me in gently, her motherly warmth felt nostalgic.

“Ian has been sending messages” I reply forcing a small smile.

"He's been asking about you all week," she said, waving me inside. "Something about his birthday. Wouldn't stop talking about it."

"That's expected."

"He said you promised him a sports car model or something of some sort"

I huffed something close to a laugh. Ian is a die hard sport car fanatic. He had more car models than one could imagine.

I found Ian in the little side room they used as a playroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a coloring book flipped open in front of him, tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. 

The second he looked up and saw me, his whole face lifted into a surprised but excited grin.

"Zayd!" He was up and across the room before I even had time to crouch down properly, and he slammed into me with the kind of force only a five-year-old can manage without apology.

"Hey, buddy." I ruffled his hair, let him cling onto my arm like he always did. 

“Miss me that much?” I couldn't explain the giddy feeling that washed over me. I realized I missed him as much. 

"You said you would come last week."

Guilt pinched me, I have been so unfair to him actually.

"I know. Something came up." 

I sat down across from him, folding my legs under me on the floor, which was not exactly where my three-thousand-dollar coat belonged, but I didn't care. 

“I'm here now, though."

"Are you gonna stay long?" Ian asked hopefully.

"Long enough."

He seemed satisfied with that answer, the way kids are satisfied with vague promises as long as they're delivered with a straight face.

“I know you are busy trying to make money. But you don't need to. Grandpa is rich enough. He sent a lot of goodies including a beautiful red car last week and promised to send more”

“He did?” My jaw clenched as I tried to suppress the anger brewing up. 

That old fox won't stay away no matter what. He long instilled the idea of being Ian’s grandfather in the little boy's head regardless of my warning.

“Do you like them?” I asked instead.

“Of course, come on let me show you” 

He beamed as he tried to pull me up, I pushed myself up and went off to his room with him. The purple room had a wall reserved for displaying Ian’s series of car models. 

This was the only room in my life where nothing was calculated. Where nobody was measuring me, weighing what I said against what I meant, waiting to see which way I would move next. 

Ian didn't care about the 6th hall, or Razlan, or Van-Arther's daughter, or any of it. He just wanted someone to admire his purple room and sports car collection.

"You look tired," he said suddenly, glancing up at me with that startling five-year-old bluntness that adults lose somewhere along the way.

"Do I?"

"Yeah. Like Ms. Behnaz when she has to do the numbers."

"The numbers?"

"The money ones. She makes this face." He scrunched his whole face up in imitation, and it was such an accurate impression of stress that I laughed again, longer this time.

"I'm okay, Ian." I'm much better now that I have had a genuine laugh.

"Okay." He grinned up at me and gladly went on talking about the new car model and how much he loved that the doors could open.

I stayed a long while. Longer than I planned, I had dinner and met his new friends.

But even with Ian's small hand gripping my sleeve as he dozed off in my arms while counting the stars, some corner of my mind kept circling back to that smile on the old man’s face.

‘I don't even need to do anything.’

I just know that didn’t mean anything good.