“Wa alaikum assalam,” he answered with a shaky voice, and froze.
Mr. Saidi approached and extended his hand. Damir shook it, eyes locked on his father’s face. Then the man pulled him into a strong embrace. Damir didn’t speak Persian, but he understood his father was whispering a prayer of thanks. His voice trembled. Damir squeezed his eyes shut. A wave of overwhelming emotion swept over him, and he struggled to hold back the tears. But they broke through anyway.
A few minutes later, two women ran toward them. One was crying loudly; the other tried to calm her. The men turned. In a flash, Damir caught his mother in his arms. She didn’t even get the chance to hug him—she fainted. He had grown up a man who didn’t easily give in to sentiment. He could fight to the death, stare an enemy in the eye without flinching. He had endured cold, hunger, hardship—and never broken. But now, sitting on the floor, holding the woman he had just met for the first time in his 32 years, he cried like he was six again. His younger sister hugged him too. He stroked her shoulder, kissed her cheeks and hair. Meeting his real family shattered every doubt and fear inside him. He felt the overwhelming pull of blood—as if this had always been his true home. This was the air his lungs needed, the moments and faces his eyes longed to see, the scents his soul craved. Everything was here—among these people.
And no words could describe how a soul feels when it’s surrounded by love—wrapped in warmth like a soft blanket. That was exactly how Damir’s soul felt in those minutes. When he felt his father’s strong embrace, his mother’s tearful kisses, his sister’s hands around him… All the doubts that had plagued him before seemed like utter nonsense.
What could matter more than family?
It felt like he finally had answers to all the unspoken questions—and his heart found peace.
Chapter 5
Damir asked for a cigarette, and the driver handed him his own pack. Without looking, Damir struck the lighter and took a long drag.
Standing on the balcony of his bedroom, he gazed up at the cloudy sky and smoked. It was the first time in over five years that he’d held a cigarette in his hands. It was around 4 a.m. After an emotionally exhausting day that smoothly turned into night, everyone had finally gone to their rooms, though likely, no one had actually fallen asleep. Everyone except Samad—he hadn’t shown up at all. They said he had to go out of town for urgent business. Well, there would be time to meet. Plenty of time.
Damir thought about his Tatar mother. Of course he wouldn’t leave her. She would stay close to him—wherever he lived. Here? Then here. And then there was Aaliya… he had a fiancée. He stubbed out the cigarette and went back inside.
The next two days, he stayed close to his birth mother, Emine. She practically didn’t let him out of her sight. And he didn’t resist her wishes. He had always been soft when it came to women—especially mothers. His Iranian mother spoke poor English, and they still communicated through a translator—his younger sister, Saher, who was more than happy to fill that role. Damir studied them when they weren’t looking. His mother turned out to be an exceptionally beautiful woman—just like his sister. Large eyes framed by long lashes, arched brows, luxurious black hair. His mother had a soft, curvy figure that made him want to lay his head on her chest and fall asleep like a baby.
Saher, meanwhile, was tall and slender—clearly, they both inherited their height from their father. He was overwhelmed with emotion. He had no idea something like this could happen to him—love, pride, a hunger to make up for lost years. Even he couldn’t fully grasp what was going on in his soul. But one thing he knew for certain—he didn’t want to leave them anymore. His only real concern now was to bring over his mother Zulfiya. She was waiting for him, missing him, loving him. He couldn’t leave her alone for long, knowing she was at home counting the days. So he decided to stay one more week and then bring up the subject—either of going back or having her come here. Oh yes, his fiancée was waiting too.
Damir knew they wouldn’t deny him anything, and everything would work out. Especially since Samad—whom he still hadn’t met—also needed time with his birth mother. And the best option, Damir concluded, would be for all of them to live together.
The next day, his father decided to introduce Damir to the family business. First stop: the main facility. They owned several thousand acres of land used for plantations. They grew strawberries, vegetables, and a variety of fruits. The produce was sold to different factories and local markets. They also ran a chain of supermarkets across Canadian provinces and three nearby U.S. cities.
“Samad’s barely managing everything. Your brain and hands will be a huge help, son,” Omer said with a light chuckle, patting Damir’s shoulder.
Damir was stunned by the scale of the operation. On the way to the office, his father gave him a brief overview of the business and its structure. It was clear he’d need months to learn everything thoroughly.
“I don’t even know what to say, I…”
“Everything will come in time, my son. The main thing is—you’re here with us. You’ll succeed, I’m sure of it. Especially since, according to our information, you graduated university with top marks and studied very diligently. You’re smart—and you’re no coward.”
Omer emphasized those last words, looking straight into his son's eyes. Damir met his gaze and saw a warm smile. Omer closed his eyes briefly and nodded, silently answering the questions he saw in his son’s face. Of course they had done their homework on him. Damir had no doubt—they knew everything about his past. Who he hung out with, the trouble he’d been in. And yet, they hadn’t hesitated to accept him into the family. Even with his rough, borderline criminal past. Sure, he had left all that behind and put on a tie—but the past didn’t change. Yes, his skills might come in handy, but still—objectively, he had been a dangerous man. The thought made him feel ashamed of himself. His throat tightened. He covered his mouth with a fist and started to cough. Omer laughed.
“I was the same,” he said, putting a firm hand on Damir’s shoulder again. “You’re my son—through and through.”
In the days that followed, Damir spent every morning to evening working with his father. He was being groomed to lead the contracts department, a role Omer had handled himself until recently. And from evening until late at night—he was in his mother’s embrace, turning back into a boy. Only once did he manage to slip away and take a walk around the city with Saher. One question kept nagging at him—where was Samad? But everyone seemed so calm about his absence that Damir decided to wait and not press the issue.
“Damir, wait here for a bit, okay? I need to talk to someone quickly and I’ll be right back,” Saher said.
“With who?”
Big Brother mode kicked in instantly, and she laughed out loud. Touching his hand on the table, she assured him everything was fine. She was just stepping out of the café for fifteen minutes. He smiled and nodded in agreement. It was only 11 a.m., after all. Sipping his coffee slowly, Damir watched the people around him. People of different nationalities, skin colors, and religions passed by or sat at tables, each busy with their own life. Most spoke French—which he didn’t yet understand. Some talked loudly, laughed, and gestured animatedly. Life unfolded in all its color and joy.
«Hi, how are you?»
Damir looked up and saw a young man—pleasant-looking, about his age, maybe a bit shorter than his own six-foot-three frame. Light brown hair, warm hazel eyes. Without asking, the guy sat across from him, called the waiter, and placed an order in French. Damir frowned slightly, watching this bold behavior. Maybe it was normal here to join strangers at cafés—he wasn’t sure yet. But the fact that the guy had addressed him in English meant one thing—he either had been watching Damir and Saher… or he knew exactly who he was approaching.
Montreal was, after all, a mostly French-speaking city. Maybe he was Saher’s boyfriend, and that’s why she ran off so quickly?
Adjusting his watch, the young man across from him introduced himself.
“I’m