Kairo and Sara stood at the entrance like two storm-shaken statues, the night air brushing past them but failing to calm the heaviness sitting on their shoulders. Kairo's jaw was clenched so tightly it could have cracked stone, anger still simmering in him like a trapped fire, yet his hands wrapped around her back, holding her close to his chest.
Sara looked hollow, her eyes unfocused, as if the noise inside the party hall had followed her out and wouldn't stop echoing. Zayn was curled into his father's neck, tiny fingers fisting Kairo's shirt as though the world outside had suddenly become too sharp.
Charles stepped out of the hall and glanced at them.
The sight of the three of them, shattered anger, bruised fear, and fragile quiet, made his chest tighten. He exhaled slowly and walked toward them.
He reached Sara first, lifting a hand and gently patting her head. She flinched, instinctive fear cracking through her before she realized it was him. When she saw his face, soft eyes, steady warmth, her shoulders sagged a little. He gave her a faint smile, reassuring, then shifted his gaze to Kairo.
Kairo's glare could have cut steel.
Charles read every word in that look: Why did you stop me? Why didn't you let me break that bastard? Why did you interfere?
Charles answered the glare with a sigh, tired and understanding.
"Come," he said quietly, "let's go out somewhere and have dinner."
Neither of them moved.
Kairo didn't even blink.
So Charles stepped forward and reached for Zayn. His hands were gentle, but Kairo's whole body stiffened, a silent refusal, a protective instinct, a warning. But then he closed his eyes once, grounding himself, and allowed Charles to take his son without causing another scene.
Charles gathered Zayn close, as if collecting fragile glass from broken ground.
"Come, my champ…" he murmured, kissing the boy's forehead, "Grandpa missed my little handsome boy."
Zayn blinked up at him, face still tight with fear. Charles lowered his head, brushing his nose against Zayn's temple.
"What happened to my baby boy?" he whispered softly, "Why isn't he talking today?"
Zayn looked at him, bottom lip trembling, but no words coming out.
Charles paused, then dropped his voice into a playful hush.
"I thought of buying a bundle of chocolate toffee for my baby Zayn," he said, pretending to sigh dramatically, "but it seems like he doesn't want it."
A tiny blink. A microscopic shift in Zayn's expression.
Charles hid a smile.
"Besides," he continued, "my brave boy protected his Mumma today… so doesn't he deserve a toffee?"
Zayn's head snapped up. He threw his arms around Charles' neck, hugging him tight. Charles' heart melted instantly. Then came a tiny, mumbled request against his shoulder: "I want strawberry flavor too…"
Charles' smile broke open like sunlight.
"Of course, my love. I'll get you all the flavors." He kissed Zayn's hair tenderly. It was the first real smile Zayn had given since the incident.
Charles cupped his cheek. "That's my boy. Now… shall we go to a nice, warm restaurant?"
Zayn nodded eagerly.
Charles let out a quiet breath, step one done. Now came step two: the hot-headed son and the wounded daughter-in-law.
He extended a hand toward Sara. "Come, darling. I want to have dinner and spend some time with you all."
Sara looked up at him, eyes softening, and nodded gently. She didn't want to disappoint him. She never could. Then she looked up at Kairo, reached for his hand, and tugged.
Slow. Silent. But enough. Kairo followed, for her, and because Charles had stepped in when it mattered.
Charles' driver took the other car, and Charles climbed into the backseat of Kairo's with Zayn on his lap. The ride began quietly, the hum of the car filling the space their words couldn't.
Throughout the journey, Charles kept Zayn engaged, telling him small stories, making silly faces, and coaxing tiny laughs that gradually grew brighter. The backseat was filled with soft giggles and gentle warmth.
But the front? A different world.
Kairo's hands were tight around the steering wheel, knuckles pale, breathing controlled but sharp.Sara stared out of the window, her reflection trembling each time the streetlights passed over her face.
Two storms are sitting side by side. Charles noticed. But instead of pulling them out of their silence, he protected the one soul who shouldn't carry any of this, Zayn.
And just like that, they reached the restaurant. A quiet, warm place, the kind that hummed with soft lights and calm air, exactly what this broken little family needed tonight.
The restaurant exuded a quiet warmth, with soft amber lights, a faint hum of instrumental music, and the gentle clatter of cutlery in distant corners. But at their table, silence had settled like a heavy blanket.
Kairo and Sara sat beside each other, their shoulders almost touching, yet their minds galaxies apart. Kairo's hand stayed wrapped around hers, firm and protective, even though anger still pulsed in him like a second heartbeat. Sara's fingers were cold inside his, unmoving, lost.
Across the table, Charles held Zayn on his lap. Their little boy had already collected his promised toffees, clutching the wrappers in tiny fists. Charles had ordered warm, comforting food, clear soup, soft bread rolls, mashed potatoes, simple grilled meat, the kind of meal that didn't ask for effort, only presence.
Every now and then, Charles fed Zayn a tiny spoonful, then took a bite himself, keeping the child's world steady while the adults drowned quietly in their own.
On Kairo's plate, the grilled meat hadn't stood a chance. He was cutting the meat like he was slicing Vector into pieces. Each sharp scrape of the knife echoed against the table. His jaw was tight, his expression cold, yet he kept serving Sara with quiet care, as if she were something precious. But she barely touched anything.
She couldn't taste anything. Her fork and knife just nudged the piece of meat back and forth. Her mind kept replaying her father's words, each memory stinging sharper than the last. She tried not to break in front of Kairo or Charles.
Because she knew Kairo was livid, still simmering with anger. And Charles… she didn't want him to feel responsible for her pain.
Charles noticed everything, the storm simmering in his son and the silence swallowing his daughter-in-law.
He cleared his throat. "You were brave today, Sara," he said gently.
Kairo's cutting stopped. His eyes lifted.
"I'm proud of you," Charles continued. "You took a stand for my son. You protected my family."
Sara didn't respond. Her eyes remained on the untouched food, her fingers still moving the fork as if she had forgotten how to eat.
Charles' voice lowered, deeper, older.
"I understand how much it hurts," he said, "when your own father disrespects you… questions your sanity and worth."
He paused, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment. Sara's heart tightened.
"But I pity your father," he went on quietly, "because he doesn't know the value of a daughter like you. I'm grateful that you're part of my family now."
His gaze dropped again. "I may sound selfish… but I'm thankful you chose my son. You gave him a chance despite his mistakes."
Kairo's breath caught.
"I appreciate your choices, and I'm proud of you," Charles added softly.
Sara breathed in shakily, her eyes burning. Then Charles exhaled, almost as if lifting a stone from an old wound.
"I loved Liana… so much," he murmured.
Kairo's heart stumbled. His father rarely spoke of his mother, something like this.
"I thought I gave her everything," Charles continued, voice low. "But I never tried to understand whether she loved me back." His voice wavered. "I couldn't win her heart. And in the end… I lost her."
His head lowered, shadows softening his features.
"When she left me, it shattered my pride. I was obsessed with why she walked away… why she abandoned the life we built. I was angry. I was frustrated… drowning in the feeling of losing her, losing my pride, losing everything."
Kairo swallowed, muscles tight.
"And in that storm," Charles whispered, "I forgot I had a son who was hurting just as much. Maybe even more. But I didn't see it. I didn't try. I failed him. I was so lost in my wounds, I never saw his. I took out all my anger and pain on him instead."
Kairo's hand trembled. The knife slipped from his fingers and hit the plate with a sharp clatter.
"And those repeated mistakes of mine… cost me, my only family." Charles let out a small, broken smile, the kind that comes from years of regret.
"Then you came into his life," he continued, "and you tried to heal my son. But you ended up paying for it, painfully. And I regret that. I regret that I was equally responsible for what you went through."
Sara sat still, every muscle tight, her breath held in her chest. Kairo looked like the past had wrapped its hands around his throat, shaking him from the inside.
"Despite all those mistakes," Charles said quietly, "Here I am, with my family again… only because of you."
He looked straight at her, voice warm and trembling with sincerity. "Thank you, my love. Thank you for giving me my family back. Thank you for loving and accepting my son despite everything he put you through. Thank you for bringing this little soul into our lives, filling our lives with light and hearts with happiness again."
His voice softened, full of gratitude. "Thank you for giving us a home again with peace and love."
"We value you, my dear. You matter to us. You are our family. And you hold the highest place in our lives. " Charles finally finished everything he had been holding in his heart.
Sara's shoulders trembled. His words were gentle, almost too gentle, wrapping around her wounded heart like a warm bandage. And yet… it hurt somewhere deep inside.
She didn't know why she couldn't speak. She couldn't express anything. She suddenly wanted to run away, lock herself in a room, curl into herself, and breathe without eyes on her.
Her mind was a storm. Her chest is heavy. Her emotions were stuck somewhere between pain and numbness. She felt too full. Too overwhelmed. Too fragile. Her chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.
She stood up immediately. "Thank you, Dad… for everything." Her voice was small, brittle. "But I'm sorry… I'm not able to breathe here. Let me go."
Charles's face softened with understanding. He nodded gently and let her walk out.
Kairo pushed back his chair instantly, panic stirring in him. But Charles caught his wrist. Kairo froze, eyes burning with frustration as he glared at his father.
"She needs you," Charles said, "but not like this."
Kairo paused.
Charles squeezed his son's wrist gently, his voice lowering into something steady, warm, almost fatherly in the way Kairo never used to receive in childhood.
"Talk to her, but not while you're burning. She doesn't need anger wrapped in affection. She needs love wrapped in calm."
"She needs assurance. Patience. Softness. Remind her of her worth. Talk to her like a lover, not like an over-possessive husband."
His father continued, firm yet soft. "Be her anchor. Her healer. Be gentle with her. And don't speak a word against her father." He warned gently.
Kairo lowered his gaze. The words hit him like a cool wave poured over his burning chest. His shoulders dropped, his hands unclenched, pulse steadied, breath slowed. He nodded, silently.
Charles's expression softened. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lip as he stood, lifting Zayn into his arms, who was already dozing, eyelids fluttering.
"Come, champ. Time to go home."
Zayn blinked sleepily. "Bye, Grandpa…" he mumbled with that tiny, drained voice.
"Bye, my little angel, see you soon." Charles's voice melted as he kissed his soft cheek before handing him over to Kairo.
Kairo held his son close, Zayn curling into him like a tired kitten.
"Take care," Charles said.
Kairo nodded once.
Charles walked toward his car, giving them one last look before driving away.
Kairo headed toward their car too, adjusting Zayn gently on his shoulder. He opened the door.
Sara was already inside, staring ahead, eyes hollow.
He said nothing. Not yet.
He started the car. The quiet ride home began....