The Promises We Broke

39

Zaan had just returned from dropping Nadiya at her home. The mansion loomed quiet around him, its dark hallways stretching in suffocating silence.

He walked slowly, feeling the quietness of the night pressing down on him, until a faint shuffling noise stopped him outside Arzan's room.

He knocked on the door. Arzan hated anyone barging in without permission. Zaan almost smiled at the thought of how their sisters did that exact thing just yesterday.

But tonight, the smile didn't come. He'd already been too harsh on Zeher earlier, and now regret clawed at the edges of his conscience, as it always did when it was too late.

His anger had been sharp, cold, unforgiving. It always was when Sahir was involved—the only pure thing left in this family, untouched by the ugliness that had poisoned them all. But maybe this time he'd gone too far.

Maybe tonight, he'd finally crossed that invisible line with Zeher.

"What are you doing?" Zaan frowned as he entered Arzan's room, noting the strange neatness of the mess spread across the bed—clothes folded in precise, rigid piles, and an open suitcase.

"Packing." Arzan's voice was clipped, as he continued folding clothes with a detached focus, his hands moving mechanically.

Zaan's gaze drifted to two plane tickets lying next to the suitcase, and his frown deepened, uncertainty creeping into his mind. "Where are you going?"

"I've got a flight tomorrow morning." Arzan's tone was calm but the air between them seemed to ripple with something unspoken.

Zaan tried to recall if there were any new foreign deals in the pipeline. But Arzan was never the one to leave. Never the one to abandon Zeher, even for a few days. "What do you mean?"

Arzan's hands stilled for a moment before he answered. "I'm leaving," he said softly, almost too casually for the gravity of his words. "I've handed over my responsibilities to my assistant. She'll explain everything to you."

"For how long?" Zaan asked, unease sinking into his bones. The way Arzan spoke, this wasn't some short business trip.

"I don't know yet." Arzan's voice was steady. "I'm taking Zeher with me."

Zaan's pulse quickened, his stomach tightening. "Why?"

The look Arzan gave him was enough, though he spoke the words anyway. "This place has become toxic for her. I've saved enough to give her a comfortable life, away from all of this."

A sudden fear gripped Zaan. He considered turning and walking out, avoiding the conversation that would surely follow. But he couldn't. Not when the foundation of their family seemed to be cracking right before his eyes.

But it wouldn't stop Arzan from leaving. His brother shared the same stubborn streak as Zeher and Faiz—each of them as unyielding as stone.

"Does Zeher know?"

"Yes." Arzan nodded. "She's packing in her room."

Zaan blinked, disbelief flashing across his face. "That can't be true. That girl adores me."

Arzan laughed, a hollow sound that sent a shiver down Zaan's spine. "For now," he said, his voice brittle. "But one of these days, she'll wake up. That false sense of protection she feels around you—it's going to disappear. Just like the love you think she has for you."

Arzan stared at him in silence, the weight of the truth clear in his eyes. "I asked Zeher tonight why she treats my money like charity," he finally said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "Do you know what she said?"