2025-08-21 02:26:51
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Chapter 165 epilogue
The morning arrived quietly, without fanfare. No notifications, no urgent messages, no scheduled meetings. Just the soft light filtering through the curtains and the distant sound of birds outside Zaid's window. He lay in bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything.Then he sat up, reached for his phone, and opened the camera.He didn't plan it. He didn't write a script or check his lighting or worry about how he looked. He just pressed "Go Live" and waited for the viewers to trickle in.The first few comments appeared—confused, curious, still waking up like the rest of the world."Is this real?""Zaid? Are you okay?""What's happening?"Zaid smiled at the screen, his hair a mess, his voice still rough from sleep."Hey, everyone. I know this is random. I didn't plan this. I just... woke up and wanted to talk."---He talked about the beginning. About the channel, the system, the debt. About the boy he used to be—scared, insecure, desperate to p
Chapter 164 The Usual Late Walk
The night air was cool against Zaid's face as he walked through the empty streets, the city quiet around him. The festival had ended days ago, but its energy still lingered—the conversations, the connections, the sense that they had built something that would last. His phone buzzed with a message from Khamees."Can't sleep. Shawarma?""Same. Meet you there."The shawarma place was nearly empty at this hour—just the owner, Abu Tarek, wiping down the counter, and a single customer eating quietly in the corner. The smell of grilled meat and garlic wrapped around Zaid as he walked in, familiar and comforting.Khamees arrived a few minutes later, looking tired but not sad. They ordered their usual—two chicken shawarmas, extra garlic, extra pickles—and sat at the table by the window, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement."You look like you've been thinking," Zaid said."I'm always thinking.""About?"Khamees unwrapped his sandwich, took a bite, chewed. "My father."Zaid wai
Chapter 163 Family Dinner
The phone rang on Thursday evening, just as Khamees was closing up the shop. He glanced at the screen, his mother's name and felt the familiar knot tighten in his chest. They had spoken since the argument, but the conversations were short, careful, like walking on ground that might crumble."Hello?""Khamees, habibi. Your uncle is coming to visit tomorrow. Your father's youngest brother. He's been traveling and wants to see everyone."Khamees's shoulders relaxed, just slightly. Uncle Jamal. His favorite. The one who had always encouraged him, who had sent messages of support when the shop opened, who had never once made him feel like a disappointment."I'll be there," Khamees said."Good. Come early. Your father wants to talk to you before dinner."The knot tightened again. "Talk about what?""I don't know. Just come."She hung up. Khamees stood in the empty shop, the mannequins watching him with their blank faces, and wondered what his father could possibly want now.---The next day
Chapter 162 Proud Parents
The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the park. The festival had settled into a comfortable rhythm—vendors chatting with customers, children running between booths, the hum of happy voices filling the air. Zaid was helping the potter pack up his remaining bowls when he saw her.His mother was walking through the entrance, a canvas bag over her shoulder, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. She had been working at the hospital all morning and had texted him that she would come "if she could." Apparently, she could.Zaid excused himself and walked towards her, weaving through the crowd. "Mama. You made it.""Of course I made it. I wouldn't miss this." She looked around, her face soft with wonder. "Zaid, this is... incredible. Look at all these people.""All here for the vendors. For the small businesses. For the stories.""You built this.""We built this. Khamees, Bassam, Imran. Everyone."She pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. "I'm so proud of you.
Chapter 161 First Day
The morning of the festival arrived clear and bright, the sun rising over the park like a blessing. Zaid stood at the entrance, a clipboard in his hands, his heart pounding in his chest. Around him, volunteers scurried between booths, vendors arranged their displays, and the smell of fresh bread and coffee drifted from the food court.Khamees appeared beside him, two cups of tea in his hands. "You look like you're going to be sick.""I feel like I'm going to be sick.""Good. That means you care."Zaid took the tea, the warmth seeping through the paper cup. "What if no one comes?""Then we drink all the tea and eat all the food and have a very nice private festival.""You're not helping.""I'm not trying to help. I'm trying to keep you from spiraling."The first visitors arrived at 9 AM—a family with young children, the mother holding a phone, the father carrying a backpack. They stopped at the entrance, looking around with wide eyes."Is this the festival?" the mother asked. "The one
Chapter 160 The Festival
The idea came to Zaid in the middle of the night, as the best ideas often did.He had been lying awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Mr. Taymoor. Not with anger, he was tired of anger—but with something else. Something like understanding. Mr. Taymoor wasn't the problem. He was a symptom. A product of a system that rewarded attention over substance, spectacle over truth.And Zaid was done with that system.He sat up, reached for his phone, and called Khamees.It was 2 AM."What?" Khamees's voice was thick with sleep."I have an idea.""You have an idea at 2 AM?""The best ideas come at 2 AM."Khamees groaned. "This better be good.""It's better than good. It's important."---An hour later, they were sitting in Khamees's apartment, a pot of coffee between them, Zaid's notebook open on the table. Bassam had arrived too, summoned by a series of increasingly urgent texts. Imran was there because he never slept."Okay," Khamees said, rubbing his eyes. "Explain."Zaid took a breat
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