Zamian approached with a dark, intense expression, his gaze fixed solely on Mark. The man holding little Zami felt a chill run down his spine, sensing the silent warning emanating from Zamian. Little Zami, however, remained blissfully unaware, her smile unwavering as she hugged her "uncle." But before she could fully understand the weight of the mont, she felt Zamian gently pull her from Mark’s arms, his grip firm yet careful, as if he were protecting her from sothing unseen.
Mark had grown fond of the title "Uncle" over the past few months, even though it felt like a facade. The formality of "Mr." had always felt distant and cold, so he encouraged Zami to call him "Uncle," finding that the na was warr and more fitting for the bond they had created. Yet, in this mont, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being an intruder in a space that belonged to soone else.
Before Zamian could utter a word, Mira’s grandfather intervened. "Okay, Zami, co along. Let’s get you changed into your birthday dress."
Excited for her big day, Zami squealed, "Yay!" She ran to her grandpa, who scooped her up and took her inside the apartnt, ensuring she wouldn’t witness the tension brewing between Mark and Zamian.
As the door closed behind them, an uneasy silence settled between the two n, each acutely aware of the confrontation that was about to unfold. Zamian’s expression was unmistakable as he looked at Mark.
Mark felt chills race down his spine, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He tried to steady himself, acutely aware that Mira was watching them with wide, concerned eyes. She stood at a distance, uncertain of what to do, her silence amplifying the tension. Zamian remained stoic, his presence alone a stark reminder of the power he held over soone like Mark.
With a deep breath, Mark stretched out his hand for a handshake, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "It seems we have a visitor for little Zami’s birthday," he said, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone.
Barely had the words left his mouth when Zamian broke into a dry laugh. The sound was so cold that it sent a shiver down Mark’s spine. What was this feeling? He had never reacted this way before. How could a re laugh make him feel so small and insignificant?
Without a word, Mark understood—Zamian possessed an undeniable, almost otherworldly aura, one that could bring anyone to their knees with just a glance. The question echoed in Mark’s mind: Who was he? How could anyone wield such power?
Mark had never felt this scared; in fact, he couldn’t even rember the last ti he had been afraid, let alone shaken to his core. His outstretched hand slowly retreated as he scratched the back of his head in nervousness. Sensing his discomfort, Mira silently intervened; she didn’t want little Zami to see them in this situation.
"The birthday party will be starting soon," Mira said, holding Zamian’s hand and guiding him toward the door. He followed her, and the once-intense aura around him softened, allowing Mark to breathe a sigh of relief. However, as Zamian turned back to Mark, his smile widened in a way that made Mark’s stomach twist. How could soone so intimidating transform so completely, just from holding her hand?
After a mont lost in thought, Mark finally moved, heading to the door in silence, each step heavier than the last.
Inside the apartnt, Zamian sat on the sofa, clearly troubled. How could he be living in a grand mansion while his wife and little daughter stayed in a place like this? Though the apartnt had a cozy warmth thanks to Mira’s touch, he couldn’t shake the feeling of longing. He missed having her close, missed the simple pleasure of holding her and sharing those small, intimate monts that only they knew. The little things—a shared glance, a gentle touch, the soft sound of her laughter—had beco luxuries he no longer enjoyed.
The room was decorated simply, with just a few cheerful touches that reflected the joy of a child’s birthday party. A cake sat proudly in the center of the table, surrounded by colorful balloons and strears. Little Zami sat quietly, her eyes sparkling with excitent for the celebration. Mark, trying to break the ice, pulled out a wrapped gift—a colorful gift bag that was decorated with cartoon characters. Zami’s face lit up with pure joy as she clapped her hands in delight.
Zamian, however, didn’t share the sa enthusiasm. He quietly took out his phone and quickly sent a ssage, his brow furrowed in concentration. By the ti he set it down, little Zami had already torn open the bag, revealing a cute bunny backpack with floppy ears.
"Oh mwy!" she giggled, her eyes wide with delight as she held up the bag before handing it to Mira, who accepted it with a warm smile. "Look, Mummy! It’s so cute!"
And so, the birthday celebration began. It was genuinely fun—they sang the birthday song, played gas, and shared laughter that echoed in the small apartnt. Mira and her little daughter sang together, their voices blending in perfect harmony while Zamian watched from a distance, his expression tense. He wasn’t thrilled that Mark was there, and it seed as if Mark was vying for more of Mira’s attention than Zamian liked.
In his heart, Zamian reminded himself that this would be the last ti Mark would see them. Let him enjoy it while it lasts, he thought bitterly, clenching his fists. The notion fueled a fire of determination within him.
After about an hour of festivities, it was finally ti for little Zami to make her birthday wish. Mira leaned down with a warm smile, her voice soft and encouraging. "Little Zami, ti to make your wish."
Zami nodded, her face serious as she closed her eyes, her little brow furrowed in concentration. She made her wish before blowing out the candle with a gentle puff of air, a mont filled with anticipation and hope.
Eager to know what her wish was, Zamian leaned forward, a mixture of excitent and anxiety coursing through him. "What was your wish?" he asked softly, unable to hide the curiosity in his voice.
Mark and Mira turned to him, surprised. Was he really asking that? Mira was about to remind him that wishes were ant to stay secret, that children were told to keep their dreams to themselves, but before she could speak, little Zami broke the silence.
"I wish to see my daddy," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mira couldn’t believe what she’d just heard from her little daughter. She hadn’t expected that wish to co from Zami’s lips—not now, not here. Of course, Zami had asked about her father before, a couple of tis, but Mira hadn’t imagined her daughter would make a birthday wish for it. And yet, she knew, in her heart, that for Zami, the wish had already co true—Zamian was there, her real father, even if she didn’t yet know it.
Mira felt a mix of emotions welling up inside her. Deep down, she knew Zami yearned for the love and presence of a father. She still rembered the last ti Zami had asked about her dad, three months ago, on Father’s Day. The children at her school had been told to bring their fathers to celebrate, and Zami had looked up at Mira with those hopeful eyes, asking if her daddy would co. That mory had stayed with her, lingering like a shadow, and now, hearing Zami’s wish made Mira question herself—was she partly to bla for this yearning?
Just as Mark, visibly stunned, was about to say sothing, Zamian stood up, a gentle smile on his face that masked the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. "Your wish is already granted," he said softly, the words hanging in the air like a promise.
Just as Mira’s heart began to pound loudly, they heard the pinging of the doorbell, catching everyone’s attention. Mira walked to the door, wondering who it could be. Opening it, she t a delivery guy who greeted her with polite professionalism.
"Good evening! This package was sent to Mrs. Zamian by Mr. Zamian."
Mira’s eyes widened. Why was she still being called Mrs. Zamian? They had already divorced, aning she was no longer his wife. Her na was no longer tied to his. But still, why would he send her a package?
The delivery guy continued, "It’s for your daughter. Could you please sign here?" He handed her a pen, and Mira signed, feeling a mix of emotions. "Thank you so much," he said with a polite smile before leaving.
Mira entered the house, where everyone was curious about what had happened outside to make her take so long.
"Zami, baby girl, this is a gift your... Mr. Zamian sent for you," she announced, her voice tinged with curiosity and a bit of surprise. Mira couldn’t help but wonder what the gift could be and hoped it wouldn’t stir up any unwanted drama.
As Mira slowly opened the package, her eyes widened in surprise to find that it was an iPad. She turned to Zami with a smile of surprise.
Zami smiled widened as she turned her face to Zamian.
"Thank wyou! I love it!"
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