Chapter 97

Murat’s cane tapped softly against the tiled hallway as he approached his father’s room. His gait was steady but deliberate, the weight of the artificial leg evident in his stride. Reaching the door, he pushed it open to find Ibrahim Khan reclining on his bed, eyes closed. His father looked peaceful, likely exhausted from the day’s outing.

Quietly, Murat walked toward him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward and gently placed a hand on his father’s hand.

Ibrahim’s eyes fluttered open, and a small smile graced his lips as he met his son’s gaze. Time had softened the sharp edges of their relationship, the years of distance and betrayal giving way to a bond neither had expected to forge. Despite the pain of the past, some part of Ibrahim was thankful—it had given him a second chance to be the father he never was.

“Where were you the whole day, man?” Murat asked, his tone light.

“Just visiting an old friend,” Ibrahim replied with a tired smile. “And