tldr; Zayaan Siddique, the 37-year-old eldest son of the Siddique family, is a meticulously polished race promoter overseeing the family’s elite horse racing division in Devil’s Junction. Despite his charm and overconfident exterior, he struggles with the pressure of living up to his family’s legacy—a role he never truly wanted, having secretly pursued a creative degree before returning to the business. He shares an interestingly, complicated relationship with his younger brother Zaviyar, and remains emotionally distant from Catriona and their baby daughter Lizeth, whom Catriona chose to raise on her own. Beneath his flawless facade, Zayaan is quietly yearning for authenticity and a life beyond the mask he wears.
b i o g r a p h y ;
Zayaan Siddique was born with legacy in his blood and pressure on his shoulders. The firstborn son of the Siddique family, he grew up in Devil’s Junction under the weight of expectation—groomed from childhood to inherit the reins of the family business. The suits were tailored before he could read, the rules laid out long before he had a chance to decide who he wanted to be. And yet, even then, Zayaan was different.
He didn’t rebel. He bargained. When the time came, he convinced his family to let him study design and brand strategy at university—a creative field he claimed would “add polish” to the family’s public face. They allowed it, assuming he'd eventually fall in line. And he did, on his own terms. He came back, degree in hand, sharper than ever—only now with an eye for aesthetics and storytelling. What they didn’t know was that Zayaan never planned to run the business the way his father had. He wanted to let his brother take over. Clearly Zaviyar wanted it. And so he stepped aside, abdicated—in a way.
These days, Zayaan works as a race promoter, the public face of the Siddique family’s horse racing operations. It’s a role that lets him play to his strengths—charm, precision, presentation—while keeping him at a careful remove from the darker sides of the business. He shakes hands, books events, smiles for cameras, and ensures the family's name stays polished, no matter what’s bleeding underneath.
He lives in Golden Gates, the gilded neighbourhood of Devil’s Junction, where the lawns are manicured and secrets stay politely buried. On paper, Zayaan’s life looks perfect. But perfection’s a cage when it’s not of your choosing.
His past with Catriona is one of those well-dressed secrets. A short-lived but intense fling, the kind that blurs the line between what was and what could’ve been. Catriona walked away before it got complicated—except it already was. Lizeth, their daughter, was born soon after. Zayaan never fought for custody. Maybe out of guilt. Maybe out of fear. Maybe because Catriona never gave him a chance. But every time he sees her in passing—the shape of her eyes, the way she tilts her head—he’s reminded of what he lost without ever really having.
Zayaan is meticulous, overconfident, and quietly judgmental. He plays the game well, perhaps too well. There’s a part of him that still wonders who he would’ve been without the script he was handed.
But wondering is a luxury, and Zayaan Siddique does not indulge in things that cannot be controlled.
He was built to lead. But whether he was meant to is a question he’s never been brave enough to ask.
And in Devil’s Junction, silence can be as loud as confession.
h e a d c a n o n s ;
Keeps a locked drawer filled with old design sketchbooks, mood boards, and concept branding work no one knows about.
Has a custom-tailored grooming routine and gets monthly facials — he considers it "professional upkeep".
Collects watches — vintage, modern, and obscure — each one carefully chosen for what it says about time, legacy, and control.
Has never called Catriona since the birth but keeps drafts of unsent messages on his phone, but he's sent gifts that he has no idea what she'd done with. They're always sent anonymously.
Hates mess but watches baby videos late at night, trying to understand what he’s missing.
Drinks neat whiskey while obsessively reorganizing his bookshelves when he’s stressed.
Has a luxury car he never drives—his daily is a more modest, controlled vehicle. He likes the illusion of humility.
Secretly follows design trends and independent artists on social media under a burner account.
Has a strained but polite relationship with his mother; his father expects too much, so Zayaan offers silence instead.
His wardrobe is 90% neutral tones — camel, navy, black, gray — with a couple of colourful items thrown in.
Sees himself in Zaviyar more than he likes, which makes him harsher with his brother.
c o n n e c t i o n s ;
A protégé – Someone younger or newer in the industry he mentors, maybe trying to mold them into the person he wishes he could be
A PR nightmare – A client, racer, or outsider who keeps messing up his carefully curated events and image
An unexpected friendship – Someone who doesn’t care about his last name or the empire he stands for, and sees the real Zayaan
A rival promoter or old university friend – Maybe from his creative days, reminding him who he used to be
A journalist or investigator – Who’s either sniffing around family secrets… or genuinely interested in Zayaan for who he is
A horse trainer or jockey – They could work under him and clash or connect in unexpected ways
A parental figure – Possibly a retired advisor or family elder who still believes Zayaan can break the mold
“That’s pretty much a summary of parenthood.” replied Catriona with a heavy sigh. “However, when it’s all said and done, seeing her grow as a whole is priceless.” At Zayaan’s words, she looked over at him and took in the sincerity of his tone, while she appreciated his support and transparency in the matter, she wasn’t ready to fully let her guard down after what happened with Akash.
“I know.” she said at first. “But she’s our priority moving forward. I can handle my own.” She then nodded in agreement as they made their way towards the petting zoo. She adjusted the stroller so that she could have a full view of the animals and watched in silence eas Lizeth observed them with glee.
Zayaan’s gaze softened as he watched her handle the stroller, the way she moved with a careful mix of focus and affection. “I know you can,” he said quietly, almost to himself, not as a challenge but as acknowledgment. “And you will…you already do.”He shifted his attention to Lizeth, noticing the sparkle in her eyes as she leaned forward to peek at a goat. A quiet ache twisted in his chest—seeing her like this, so unguarded and joyful, it made every misstep, every lost moment of the past, sting and warm at the same time. “She’s incredible,” he murmured, more to the air than to Cat, though she heard it. “And you…you’re incredible too. I don’t say it enough, but seeing how you care for her, how you guide her through all this, it matters. More than anything.”
His hand hovered near the stroller, half-expecting her to flinch at the gesture, but it stayed where it was, a silent promise: he was present, he was watching, and he was willing to step in whenever needed. “We’ll figure this out together,” he added softly, letting the words hang between them like a lifeline. “Every little step, every messy moment…it’s ours now.” Did Zayaan know he was overstepping slightly, yes, but Catriona had taken these precious moments from him before; this time he was determined to make his presence felt--come what may.
Min-sung shakes his head, letting out a small laugh. “Yeah, and my family’s got a long memory for punchlines. I’m still hearing about the time I wore trainers to a wedding.” He shifts the bottle in his hand, deciding it’s staying with him. He's right, it’s a better choice, and at least it feels like he’s doing one thing right today. His mind keeps jumping ahead to Hannah walking in, to the way his parents will scan her like they’re reading a résumé. That knot in his stomach isn’t going anywhere, but maybe he can stack the odds. “Alright, I’ll grab this and something sweet. Chocolate truffles, maybe. If nothing else, they’ll keep my mum busy for a few minutes.”
Zayaan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in understanding. “Trust me, Min-sung, I get it—families remember everything. The smallest misstep gets filed away like it’s evidence in a case.” He leaned slightly closer, voice softer now. “But hey…you’re doing more than most would. Picking something thoughtful, even a little sweet, that counts. It’s not about perfection. It’s about showing up, making the effort. That’s the part that actually sticks.” He glanced at the bottle in Min-sung’s hand and nodded approvingly. “Chocolate truffles? Smart. A little distraction for them, a little peace of mind for you—and maybe, just maybe, a first impression that says you’re paying attention without trying too hard. You’re already ahead of the game.”
Being this honest with Zayaan was something Catriona didn’t expect to happen till years later. However, after talking it through with him, she was relieved that it ended up working out this way as it prevented lost time from their daughter and rebuilt their relationship by being co-parents. “I’m sorry that we didn’t work out…” she softly replied. “Our time together was real and I don’t regret it, especially with this little gift in our lives…” Looking over at Lizeth, she was an overall blessing to them and despite their time apart, it was her that brought them back together. “Well you get to show up for her now. Make it count.”
In the back of her mind, Cat knew this was going to make things complicated between her and Akash, especially when she hadn’t told him about her decision. However, she was willing to take accountability on that and she could only hope that he could see and understand why she made such a decision from her perspective. “I know you won’t. It’s hard to resist this cutie after all.” she replied with a soft chuckle while gesturing a hand at their daughter. “Sounds good, I will text you the details and don’t be surprised if I end up assigning you some tasks. It’s all hands on deck to give her the best 2nd birthday ever."
His chest tightened at her words, a strange mix of gratitude, awe, and something unspoken threading through him. He glanced down at Lizeth, watching her tiny fingers fumble over a toy as if she had no idea how much she had already changed the course of his life. “You’re right,” he said quietly, voice thick with emotion, “I get to show up now. And I swear, I’ll make it count. Every smile, every silly song, every moment with her—I’ll be there.” A faint, half-smile tugged at his lips as he looked back at Catriona. “And don’t worry about the tasks,” he added with a small chuckle, though his tone betrayed how much he meant it. “I’ll take all hands-on-deck seriously. This…all of this, it’s worth every bit of effort. For her.” He exhaled slowly, the weight of the past mingling with a cautious hope for the future. “I know it’s complicated, and I know I can’t fix everything that’s been messy before, but right here, right now—I can be part of this. And somehow, that feels like enough to start.”
"Travel makes sense, clean slate every time," Ezra said, because starting over in places where nobody knew your history sounded like freedom until you realized you couldn't escape your own head. "The gym and range, yeah I get that too. Keeps your hands busy while your brain sorts through the mess." He understood that feeling of people pulling from different directions, everyone wanting pieces of you while you're trying to hold yourself together, and having a kid in the mix made everything higher stakes when you're trying to prove trustworthiness to someone who mattered. "Having a daughter changes everything I would think, suddenly you're not just trying to stay alive but trying to be someone worth trusting," Ezra continued, thinking about how much harder it must be to navigate this life when a child's future depended on your choices. "Maybe showing up is enough sometimes, even when everything else feels broken."
Zayaan nodded slowly, letting Ezra’s words settle. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, voice low, almost to himself. “Everything changes when there’s a kid involved. Suddenly, every mistake, every misstep—it doesn’t just affect you. It affects someone who’s counting on you to show up, even when you’re not sure you can.” He paused, eyes distant for a moment, thinking of the little person who had completely shifted his priorities. “You keep yourself busy, you run, you fight, you plan… but none of that means anything if you don’t actually show up. And sometimes, showing up is the hardest part. Even when everything else feels like chaos, even when you’re not sure you’re enough… you show up. That’s what matters.” He let out a slow exhale, a mixture of weariness and resolve. “It’s the only way to start making it right. Step by step. Messy, imperfect, but present. And somehow, that’s enough—for now. At least I hope it is...Sorry man. I didn't mean to get all heavy on you like this.”
"Yeah, exactly, and it's insane how they act like emotional honesty is somehow more dangerous than actual crime," Lucian said, because wasn't that the truth—people could handle corruption but got squeamish about daddy issues. "The liability label is so real, like having feelings about your childhood makes you unstable when really it just means you're paying attention." He'd been in those same rooms, playing the polished version of himself while Thomas got to be authentic, and damn if that didn't mess with your head after a while. "I hate that we both know what it feels like to be cast as ourselves with someone else's script, but honestly it's kind of relieving to hear someone else say it out loud." The censoring thing hit home because he still caught himself doing it, still worried about people thinking he was broken or dramatic when he was just being real about what happened. "You're right about them not being meant to hold the real version. I'm starting to think that's their problem, not ours."
Zayaan let out a quiet laugh, more wry than amused, as he ran a hand through his hair. “You hit it on the head, Lucian. People act like vulnerability is some kind of contagion, but the real danger’s in the corruption they ignore every damn day. Feeling things doesn’t make you unstable—it makes you human, which apparently scares a lot of folks.” He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. “And yeah… playing the polished version gets exhausting. You start to wonder which mask is the real you and which one’s just surviving the room. It’s a relief when someone else says it out loud, because suddenly you’re not crazy for noticing the cracks.” A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips. “Censoring yourself… that’s hard to shake. Took me longer than I’d like to admit. But you’re right—if they can’t handle it, that’s on them, not us. The real problem isn’t what we show. It’s what they refuse to see.”
“You’re really good at comparing shit Mr. Siddique.” joked Marisol with a shit eating grin, a type of response to attempt to keep things light. All jokes aside, this was an eye opening conversation and she was learning a lot from it. She thought everyone had the same outlook like her father, but perhaps she was wrong and there was more than meets the eye to those involved in their scene. “Fair point…I guess we’re all adapting based on where the blade is coming from.” She then couldn’t help, but roll her eyes at Zayaan once his interest piqued regarding her father. “Pft, good fucking luck. You’re going to need all of it.” Suddenly, Marisol fell silent after hearing the importance of loyalty and while she did understand where he was getting at, she just found it frustrating that it would be happening to all of them. “It’s moments like this where I wonder if we’re ever gonna catch a god damn break around here!” She was practically whining at this point and with a sigh of defeat, she decided to get back on the task at hand and said, “So how would you like me to confront your client? Consider this my good deed of the day because I would have been running my mouth, guns blazing and all.”
Zayaan chuckled under his breath, shaking his head at her grin. “Comparisons are just how I make sense of things, Marisol. Some people drink, some fight, some gamble—I talk in metaphors.” He leaned back a little, his expression shifting to something more measured. “And you’re not wrong. We all adapt. Some of us learn to move with the blade, others brace against it. Either way, the cut always leaves its mark.” At the mention of her father, his smirk returned, a little sharper this time. “I don’t scare easy. Your old man might be a different beast, but I’ve wrestled with worse.” Still, the glint in his eye softened when she whined about never catching a break. His tone dipped, almost as though he was confessing something. “Truth is, breaks are rare around here. You learn to take them in stolen moments—in a laugh, in a drink, in knowing you’ve got someone watching your back. That’s as close as we get to breathing room.” When she circled back to business, Zayaan tilted his head, studying her. “No guns blazing. Not this time. My client needs to be reminded, not threatened—there’s a difference. Keep it sharp but professional. You’re not there to start a fire, you’re there to make them sweat just enough to remember who holds the leash. Think you can handle that?”
“You know we have reputations to uphold.” she hissed while shaking her head in disappointment. “To think you would know better. You’ve been in this game longer than I have!” When Zayaan spoke about the city, she fell silent and realized what he was telling her was true. “This is so complicated.” she muttered under her breath. “I feel like everyone’s holding the handle just to meet their fate with the blade no matter what.” Shaking her head, she decided to not focus on the negative and lock in on the fact that she needed her money back. However, Zayaan’s words of encouragement caught her off guard as she stared at him in silence for a brief second, processing what was said. “Why thank you.” she replied at first, her tone hinted with sincerity. “If you could go tell my father that, that’d be great cause he thinks otherwise.”
He smirked, raising an eyebrow with a playful shake of his head. “Reputations, huh? Yeah, I know the weight those carry—and how fast they can tip into a mess if you’re not careful. Sometimes it feels like we’re all just walking a tightrope with no safety net.” His gaze softened for a moment as he met her eyes, the usual sharpness giving way to something quieter, more thoughtful. “This city doesn’t hand out easy choices. We all grip the handle, knowing the blade’s there. But it’s what we do with that grip that counts—whether we let it cut us or if we learn to control it.” He let out a low chuckle at her comment about her father. “I might just take you up on that—telling your old man a thing or two sounds like a challenge I’m willing to accept. Sometimes you’ve got to shake up the old guards to make them see the bigger picture.” Then, more seriously, he added, “But in all this chaos, don’t forget you’re not alone in the mess. Loyalty can be a double-edged sword, sure, but it’s also the reason some of us still stand. It’s messy, complicated, but it’s real—and sometimes that’s the only thing worth holding onto.”
“I should probably bring a ton of treats and cross my fingers.” He glances at the new bottle, feeling a bit less clueless but still wishing this was as simple as picking out snacks for a movie night. His brain keeps circling back to how much he wants this to go well, how he hates that he’s already bracing for disappointment. Family dinners always feel like some kind of test, even when nobody says it out loud. “I guess I’m hoping the wine distracts them long enough for Hannah to win them over herself. She’s great, but my parents… they remember everything. Every mistake, every awkward silence.” He tries to sound casual, but his nerves keep leaking through. “You ever get tired of trying to make everyone happy? Feels like I’m always one step away from messing up.” He tries to smile, but it comes out a bit crooked. “Thanks for not letting me grab the cheap stuff.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head with a knowing smile. “Treats and crossing fingers sounds about right. Family dinners are less about the food and more like walking a tightrope—one wrong move and you’re the punchline for years.” He glanced at the bottle Min-sung held, then back up with a reassuring nod. “This one’s a good call. Definitely better than the cheap stuff—they don’t deserve anything less.” He paused, eyes thoughtful. “And yeah, I get it—trying to make everyone happy is exhausting. You’re always on edge, wondering if one word or silence will tip the scales. But honestly? The fact you’re worried means you care. That’s already more than a lot of people give.” Zayaan’s tone softened, almost quiet now. “Just remember—some battles aren’t yours to win. Sometimes, the best you can do is show up and be real. If she’s great, that’ll shine through. Wine can only do so much.”
One of the things she appreciated from Zayaan was that he was thoughtful and to hear the purpose behind this outing was definitely much needed after the hell of a week she had. “It’s the thought that counts.” she replied in a lighthearted tone. “So thank you.” Observing his interaction with Lizeth, she chuckled at his comment and nodded in agreement that she cannot deny. “I know…I take full accountability. If you thought her soon to be terrible twos were bad? Wait till she’s a teenager, I’m already aware of what I have to go through.”
While she pushed the stroller, she fell silent as she did her best to distract herself with their surroundings. However, her mind was racing with incoherent thoughts that she found herself stuck in the moment. However, when she felt Zayaan’s gaze on her, Cat looked over and grimaced at the comment. Till this day he knew her so well and she wasn’t going to deny and fake it with a smile. Instead, she nodded in agreement and said, “Yeah, I get it. She’s our main focus, so let’s keep it at that.”
Looking down at the little one, she put her best face forward for their daughter and looked to see where her attention was gravitating towards, “She is indeed the boss today, isn’t the right Lizeth?” The child immediately squealed with excitement as soon as they approached the petting zoo, “I guess she’s made her decision. Shall we?”
He let out a soft, almost breathless laugh at her words, but beneath it was something deeper—an undercurrent of gratitude mixed with a quiet ache. “Yeah, the terrible twos are just the start, huh?” he murmured, his eyes lingering on Lizeth’s bright, eager face. “I never imagined this would be so hard and so wonderful all at once.” He felt the weight of the week, the exhaustion and the hope swirling together inside him, making his chest tight.
When Cat nodded at his glance, not pretending but meeting him honestly, it struck him how much they were both carrying—how fragile and raw this new chapter was. “We don’t have to pretend with each other,” he said softly, voice thick with emotion. “This is messy. It’s scary. But it’s ours. And every moment, even the hard ones, they mean something.”
His gaze shifted to Lizeth, watching her squeal in delight, and a tender smile broke through the tension. “She really is the boss, isn’t she? But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He reached down, gently taking her hand, feeling that simple connection anchor him in a way words never could. This was his favourite moment from the day already. His daughter clutching his hand. “Let’s make sure every step from here is about her—and about us learning how to do this together.”
Catriona came to realize how valuable these moments were to Zayaan and she still felt guilty for not reaching out sooner, especially when he had already made contact through the gifts he had given. However, what mattered was the present and she was glad that they had given this a try because seeing their daughter, doe-eyed and content in their presence brought hope that they were able to work things out after all this time.
“You were never a bad guy Zayaan…” Cat said at first. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she could feel her heart racing fast, but perhaps this was the closure she needed on her end. “Honestly, you were the right person, but wrong time and I’ve come to terms with that.” Her expression softened as she nodded in understanding and wasn’t opposed to the idea of letting him into their lives. “Your her father, not some knight trying to prove their worth in some kingdom. Even when I kept her away from you, you still managed to help us out and that speaks volumes. You respected my boundaries and I can’t thank you enough for the support you’ve given us.” She then looked at Lizeth and waved at their little one as she had such a joyous expression on her face. “You’re a part of her life now and I won’t take that away from the both of you.”
When he expressed his gratitude, she then nodded and genuinely smiled for once. “Of course and thank you for…being patient and not giving up on me—on us.” Her attention then darted over to their daughter who excitedly crawled over to the toy horse that caught her eye. “She is…” she mused. “She's grown so much, I'm now realizing how quick time can go by..." Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind as she decided to propose an opportunity for him to start creating more memories and spending more time with Lizeth. "Her second birthday is on August 20th. She's obviously going to have a party and I was wondering if you would like to also be included in the celebration."
Zayaan’s chest tightened as he absorbed her words, a flood of emotions crashing beneath the surface—relief, regret, and a fragile hope he wasn’t sure he deserved. “Wrong time…” he whispered, voice thick with something close to pain. “I’ve carried that weight too. Wondered if I’d ever get it right. But hearing you say it wasn’t all wrong—that there was still something real between us—that means more than I can say.” His gaze dropped to Lizeth, the little life that tied them in ways words couldn’t fully capture. The missed years pressed heavily on him, but beneath that heaviness stirred a fierce, aching desire to be better, to be present. “I never wanted to be a hero. I just wanted to be there—for her, for you. To be someone she could trust, even when it’s imperfect, even when it’s hard.”
Her mention of the birthday caught him off guard, and for a moment, his throat tightened so much he could barely speak. But beneath the lump, a quiet determination took hold—this was more than just a date. It was a chance. A chance to be part of her life in a way he’d only dreamed of. “August 20th,” he repeated, voice trembling slightly. “A chance to make real memories. To finally be here—not just watching from the edges.” He swallowed hard, the weight of everything settling into a fierce promise. “I want that. For her, for us. I’m here—no matter how messy, no matter how scared. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Bastian's breath escaped in a short sound that sounded like a laugh but not. “Yeah ... messy’s not a dealbreaker. Just depends what’s in the mess and who’s cleaning it up.” It was easy enough to picture himself in that mix - people losing their heads, deals shifting mid-stride, keeping the whole thing from grinding to a halt. Years of doing it in different settings meant the mechanics didn’t scare him, though part of him knew every scene came with its own traps. “Reading between the lines is only worth it if the lines are worth reading. So if you want someone who won’t freeze when things go sideways ... maybe we can talk details. What exactly counts as the game here for you?”
He gave a slow nod, appreciating the straightforwardness. “Messy’s part of the territory, no doubt. But like you said, it’s about what’s in the mess—and who’s got the guts to clean it up without making it worse.” He let a small, almost amused smile slip. “Freezing’s a luxury no one in this game can afford. When things go sideways, you adapt or get left behind.” His eyes sharpened just a bit. “As for the game? It’s about control—keeping the show running smooth enough that everyone forgets the chaos backstage. It’s the fine line between spectacle and disaster, and knowing when to push the edge without falling off.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “If you’re ready to play that, we can definitely talk details.”
Hayat glanced at her watch and groaned. "Shit, well this has been enlightening, but I really need to get back to the grind." She drained the rest of her tea and stood up, already mentally shifting back to her endless to-do list. His whole public service comment made her laugh despite herself—leave it to him to turn basic workplace honesty into some grand mission. "A sliding scale for tears isn't the worst business model I've heard. You really think people would pay extra for someone to tell them hard truths?" Maybe he wasn't completely wrong about people secretly wanting brutal honesty, even if they complained about it afterwards. Most clients did keep coming back for more, didn't they. "And thanks for the dignity speech, I guess. Very philosophical for a Tuesday." She picked up her empty mug and headed toward the sink, already thinking about the contracts waiting on her desk — deadlines didn't care about extended tea breaks or workplace psychology discussions. "But seriously, take care of yourself. Don't let your brother work you into the ground while he's plotting whatever masterpiece he's cooking up next."
Marisol immediately shushed Zayaan as she cringed at the comment, “Shh! Ew, don’t say that out loud someone might hear you!” she hissed while elbowing his side gently. “Excuse you, I still do. This face card never declines.” When he pointed out her loyalty to her sisters, Mari’s expression faltered as she casted her gaze downwards, processing his observation about her. “But don’t you think the city’s bound to collapse, especially when loyalty is like a double edged sword?” She was genuinely curious about his take given that he is part of the overall Six in the junction. At the compliment, a genuine smile crept onto her lips as she tried not to let it get to her head. “Are you just saying that so I don’t cause a scene Mr. Siddique?” she countered in a joking manner. “I try…This hell hole can either take it or leave it. I am who I am and I don’t plan on changing.”
He smirked at her shushing, leaning just enough into the elbow jab to make it clear he wasn’t remotely sorry. “What? You’re acting like I’m wrong,” he teased, voice pitched low but still laced with that easy, unapologetic drawl. “And yeah, I believe it. Face card’s got longevity—you’ll be cashing in on it when everyone else is begging for filters.” Her question about loyalty actually made him pause, eyes narrowing slightly like he was weighing the blade she’d just described. “The city’s always on the edge of collapse,” he said finally, “and yeah, loyalty can cut both ways. But it’s still a weapon. You just have to make sure you’re the one holding it by the handle, not the blade.” When she tried to downplay his compliment, he let out a short laugh. “Mari, if I was just trying to keep the peace, I’d tell you what you want to hear, not what’s true. There’s a difference.” His tone softened, though, in that way he had when sincerity slipped through without permission. “And for the record? The hell hole needs people who aren’t pretending to be anything else. So… keep being exactly that, you got that?”
Min-sung stands in the wine aisle completely lost. The bottles all look the same to him, and he's pretty sure his parents know more about wine than he ever will. He can't stop thinking about Hannah and how he's going to explain her to amma and appa. After Hae-Rin's surprise elopement, they're probably expecting another bombshell. He picks up a Bordeaux, then puts it down. His parents have actual taste, not like him wandering around the supermarket hoping alcohol will fix family drama. The intro is making him anxious. Hae-Rin just ran off and got married, didn't even give their parents a chance to meet Ford properly. Now he has to do damage control while also trying to bring his own girlfriend into the mix. He turns to the person next to him, holding up whatever bottle he'd grabbed. "I'm trying to butter up my parents. Do you think this would do?"
Zayaan glanced over from where he was scanning labels on the Pinot Noirs, raising an eyebrow at the bottle Min-sung held up. It wasn’t a bad pick—mid-shelf, drinkable—but it didn’t scream “forgive me for dropping life-changing news” either. Still, the nerves radiating off the guy were louder than the question itself. Zayaan stepped a little closer, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If your goal is mild distraction and polite sipping, sure. But if you’re walking in with parental guilt and emotional landmines… you might want something with a bit more finesse.” He gently took the bottle from Min-sung’s hand, gave it a once-over, and placed it back on the shelf. Then he reached for a slightly pricier red from the next section. “This one’s smoother, solid vintage, doesn’t scream ‘I panicked in aisle four.’” A pause, then with a tilt of his head, Zayaan added, “Girlfriend trouble, or parental disappointment?” He wasn’t prying—just recognizing the look of someone juggling too many truths at once. “If it’s both… might want to grab two bottles. And maybe dessert.”
"Right, because being angry and aware is apparently a character flaw," Lucian said, and damn if that didn't hit home because he'd spent years being told he was too sensitive, too demanding, too everything when all he wanted was basic acknowledgment. "The broken thing is real, like having daddy issues automatically makes you unstable or unreliable in business." He'd heard that whispered behind his back more times than he could count, people acting like his family situation was some kind of professional liability instead of just life being messy. "Framing yourself into your own life, yeah, that's exactly what it is because nobody else is gonna do it for you." The sanitizing comment made sense too because why should he make other people comfortable with his truth when they'd never bothered making him comfortable with theirs? "I'm still working on the not sanitizing part, old habits and all that. But you're right about the flinching. If they can't handle the real version, they probably weren't worth the conversation anyway."
He let out a low, almost amused breath, one of those yeah, I feel that kinds of exhales. “It’s wild, isn’t it? People can stomach embezzlement, bribery, murder-for-hire even—but tell them your dad didn’t show up for your eighth birthday and suddenly you’re the liability.” He shook his head, eyes scanning the horizon like he was watching the absurdity play out in real time. “Apparently being self-aware makes you dramatic. God forbid you name the damage instead of burying it like everyone else.” He glanced over at Lucian, his expression sober but not pitying. “I’ve been in rooms where I had to play the heir, the face, the cleaned-up version of things. And every time, it’s like...I’m standing next to my own life instead of in it. Like I’ve been cast as myself, but someone else wrote the script.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “And yeah, I still flinch too. Still censor shit before it even hits the air, because it’s easier than watching someone blink like they’ve just witnessed a meltdown instead of a fact.” A pause, quieter now. “But I think you’re right. If they can’t hold the real version, maybe they were never meant to.” He didn’t say I see you, but the tone carried it. It was a rare kind of understanding, forged not in shared victories—but in the identical bruises they carried beneath suits and reputations.
Putting on a brave face, Catriona did her best to remain positive for yet another father-daughter date for Lizeth and Zayaan. Her main priority was her daughter and ultimately she kept telling herself that she was doing this for her. However, a part of her knew that she was also doing this for her father because she owed him that much. It would also get her mind off of her argument with Akash as things were a little rough around the edges between them. She not only needed a change in scenery, but a boost in morale.
“Mhm, I know better than to ghost the father of my child.” she bluntly replied with a shrug. It took her a split second to realize what she said and she immediately bit her tongue to get a grip as she shouldn’t be taking out her attitude on him. “What I meant is that...I would have told you if we weren’t coming. She’s been filled with energy today, so I hope this adventure helps tire her out.” Clearing her throat, she forced out a smile and said, “You don’t have to panic, I feel like she gets fascinated with everything…Seeing the animals though is a plus since she’s used to being around them when I do bring her to work.” Glancing down at Lizeth in the stroller, she chuckled softly and agreed, “To be fair she spent so much time with me that she tends to follow my habits.” Returning her gaze on him, she then added, "Thank you for planning this by the way." An acknowledgement that she sees his efforts in all this.
He didn’t flinch at the edge in her voice—he knew better than to take it personally. Not anymore. Her words were laced with something sharper than usual, and while the sudden “father of my child” tag hit harder than he expected, he kept his reaction buried beneath a calm, steady nod. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be a jab. Or maybe it was. Either way, he wasn’t here to pick a fight. He was here for Lizeth. “You’re welcome,” he said simply, his voice softening at the end. “It’s nothing grand—just a few tickets and some snacks—but she deserves moments that feel like something. And… so do you.”
He crouched slightly to check on Lizeth, brushing a leaf off the edge of the stroller canopy. “She’s got your focus,” he added, a fond note entering his voice as he watched the little girl’s attention shift from the passing popcorn cart to the flash of someone’s balloon in the distance. “And your stubbornness, probably. God help us both.” Zayaan straightened up, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat as he looked back at Cat. “I don’t expect you to paint on a smile for me. If things are tense right now, I get it. This doesn’t have to be easy or perfect or anything close to it. I just want to show up. For her. For what this is.” There was a beat where he hesitated—like he might say more—but he let it pass. He wanted to say something about Akash, but...he wouldn't hit that nerve of hers right now. Instead, he motioned toward the entrance. “Should we start with the petting zoo or the carousel? I figure we follow her lead—she’s the boss today, right?”
