The lost prince of Kabul. My return chapter number 3

Zuhaan Bhai Fantasy

Zalan was still standing there, holding a dirty plate. He did not understand what was happening. Why was this powerful old man looking at him like that? Why were his eyes full of tears?The old man pushed his own wheelchair forward. He came so close to Zalan that Zalan could smell his expensive perfume, Oud from Dubai.Without asking, the old man slowly moved Zalan's torn shirt from his left shoulder.There, on his shoulder, was a mark.It was not a normal birthmark. It was bright red, like fresh blood. It was in the shape of a perfect crescent moon, and inside the moon, there was a small star. It was shining in the torch light.The moment the old man saw that mark, he started shaking like a leaf in a winter storm."Allah Hu Akbar..." he whispered.And then, he fell. He fell from his wheelchair onto the dirty floor where Zalan washed dishes every day. His expensive Peshawari chappal fell off his foot."Nawab Sahib!" both bodyguards shouted and ran to lift him.But the old man did not want to get up. He sat on the floor, on his knees, and started crying loudly. Like a small child. Like a man who lost his son ten years ago."That mark... that mark..." he cried, pointing at Zalan's shoulder. He opened the photo and showed it to Zalan.Zalan took the photo with his burnt, wet hands.It was a photo of a King and a Queen. The King was tall, handsome, with a black beard and a crown made of gold and emeralds on his head. He had grey eyes, exactly like Zalan. The Queen was the most beautiful woman Zalan had ever seen. Long black hair, green-grey eyes, a gentle smile. She was holding a small baby, maybe one year old. That baby also had grey eyes.Zalan's heart stopped.

Unfold