The next morning, Zoha arrived early at the office. The sun hadn't fully risen yet, and the air was quiet and calm. She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, her heart beating fast again.
She hadn't slept much. Her mind kept replaying yesterday's meeting with Mr. Zafar Iqbal.
His eyes. His cold voice. And that one moment—when he spoke about his son.
That was the only time his ice seemed to melt, even for just a second.
As the doors opened, she was surprised to see the hallway light off. The office was still locked. But down the hall, a soft sound echoed—a baby giggling.
Curious, she followed the sound toward the far corner of the top floor. The glass meeting room had its blinds slightly open.
And inside, she saw him.
Zafar Iqbal. On the floor. In his suit. Crawling after a little baby in diapers and a tiny blue T-shirt.
The little boy—Ezra—was laughing so loudly, his small feet kicking as he tried to crawl away. Zafar smiled softly, caught him, and pulled him into his arms.
Zoha froze.
It was the first time she saw him smile.
It wasn't a small smile—it was full, wide, pure. Not the kind a businessman wears. The kind a father wears. A man who loves someone more than his own life.
"Baba!" the baby squealed.
Zafar kissed his son's cheek and whispered something in his ear. His hand gently brushed through Ezra's dark curls.
Zoha felt a sting in her eyes. This wasn't the man from yesterday. This was someone else.
This was a father.
She turned away, giving them privacy, but her heart felt… strange. Full. Warm.
Later, when Zafar returned to his office and saw her at her desk, he paused.
"You're early," he said, his voice back to being sharp.
"I like starting before the day does," she replied with a calm smile.
His eyes lingered on her face for a second too long.
"Did you see anything earlier?" he asked.
Zoha looked down at her notebook. "Just a father loving his son."
He said nothing.
But when he walked past her, she heard him whisper under his breath—
"He's the only thing that keeps me human."
That day, as Zoha worked beside him, she noticed small things.
He never laughed at jokes, but his phone background was Ezra's photo.
He didn't trust people, but he trusted the nanny like a sister.
He never smiled at her, but his eyes softened when he saw his son on the security screen.
This man had buried his heart somewhere deep.
And only Ezra had the key.
But something inside Zoha stirred. Not romantic yet. But something… gentle. Respect, maybe. Or just a woman recognizing a man's silent pain.
Whatever it was, she didn't fight it.
She just watched, listened, and learned the rhythm of his silence.