Mr. Staford nodded before leaving the room. Zain opened the drawer, took out the folded letter, and within no time began reading.
Zain, I need you to bring the missing link of our family ..... the lost part of our bond.
It seemed very simple: our three-person family .... Muzzamil, Ayesha and Zain .... but in fact it was not that simple. It never was. We always hid it from you to save you from heartache, to spare you our worries.
The reality is we are not just three. There is one more ....
the one we lost, the one we never forgot, the one who was ours but whom we never owned. You know, when you were eight years old we were gone somewhere for eight months.
Zain's mind travelled back to that time. His parents had gone somewhere, leaving him with Mrs. Staford and Mr. Alam, and when they came back they were not as cheerful as before. For his sake they managed to bring smiles to their faces. To this day he had failed to solve where they had gone and why they had left their happy faces behind. Zain tried to ask, but they always said it was some sort of business trip, and slowly Zain forgot about it.
Zain, today I will tell you the story of our lives .... the story we never told, the pain we always hid from you.
My real surname is not Farooq ... it is Wazir. I belong to the Wazir tribe, actually from Afghanistan, though some of its roots are in South Waziristan, Pakistan. I belonged to a tribe where every person must live bound by certain codes traditions inherited as legacy, boundaries I never accepted and always cursed.
I was the second of two siblings. From childhood I was sharp and intelligent. Our father was never a supporter of education, so from childhood we were instructed to complete the only schooling available in our region, take our inherited land and earn from it.
My mind never accepted those ancient ideas. When I finished my schooling I insisted my father let me go to college in the city to pursue higher education.
As I expected, he declined and even threatened to deprive me of my inherited property. I stayed quiet and tried to suppress my rebellious mind, but I found that I couldn't live the way they wanted. So I made a drastic decision .... a decision of abandonment.
Wearing three layers of clothes because I couldn't afford to be caught with luggage in my hand, I left in the dark. I went to college and worked evenings in a printing house to support myself. I completed my BBA and won a scholarship to Oxford for higher studies.
But before leaving I went home ... and that was my mistake. That one mistake changed our lives.
When my father discovered I had earned a scholarship and was leaving for Oxford, he was unexpectedly happy, proudly telling everyone about my achievement. But later, he said something that moved me completely:
he had arranged my engagement while I was away. He wanted me to marry a seven-year-old girl before leaving. That was absurd. I refused instantly. How could he think I would accept this? But it was not easy.
They blocked every way of escape and made my freedom conditional on accepting that marriage. Soon my patience wore out, and I made a decision I didn't want to, but which seemed the only way to pursue my dreams: I surrendered.
When the day came and I looked at the bride, we were completely unsuitable for each other. She was the age of a child and far behind in maturity. I thought if I went away I would forget about everything, forget the marriage. But I could not make that innocent soul wait in captivity for the rest of her life.
Then suddenly I thought of something. I convinced them I was happy and grateful to marry such a young girl. When they trusted me, I escaped. I reached London and forgot about everything, and I married your mother.
I had thought distance could bury the past, but I was wrong. My roots were cursed, and what I abandoned would not sleep. They were not human but vampires of memory and malice .... every slight, every leaving stored in them like coals that only needed wind. Now their thirst for vengeance warmed and spread through their veins.
One day, when you were about eight years old, I received a letter ... perhaps they found my address through university records. It was from my mother, pleading to see me one last time. Among all the harsh memories of the Wazir tribe, I have one good one: the moment my mother showered her immense love on me.
The news that she was on her deathbed devastated me. I could not restrain myself from meeting her, and I decided to visit that hill one last time. I was not aware, that would be my second worst decision .... because that land could never be fruitful for me in any circumstances.
"Zain…" Mr. Alam stormed inside..
"What is the matter, Mr. Alam? Didn't I order that no one disturb me?" Zain couldn't control his fury. For him, nothing was more important than his father's letter.
"Sorry, Zain, but Mr. Adam Macros is all over the news. He has called a press conference regarding the contract you signed with LTA…"