Chapter 107: Her Birthday Wish
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 moment, she felt Zamian gently pull her from Mark’s arms, his grip firm yet careful, as if he were protecting her from something 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 name was warmer and more fitting for the bond they had created. Yet, in this moment, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being an intruder in a space that belonged to someone else.
Before Zamian could utter a word, Mira’s grandfather intervened. "Okay, Zami, come 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 apartment, 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 men, 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 someone 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 mere 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?