Page 4 of Baran
“My father sent for me. We were supposed to spend my two-week winter vacation together in the city.”
“Does your father work here?”
“He lives and works here.”
“And what happened to your visit?”
“He…” His eyes welled up with tears, then they were spilling down his cheeks.
Darien reached over and tenderly took Baran’s hands in his own. “Maybe it’s too soon to talk about him. I’ll let you rest for a while.”
Baran had no more words, so he nodded.
Darien handed him a card. “Call me anytime if you have a problem. I’m going to help you with what you need and want to feel okay. I want to help you.”
Baran wiped his tears away and nodded, still unable to speak.
Chapter Three
Darien
Darien stood outside Baran’sdoor, the significance of their meeting settling into his chest. He had seen many come through the doors of Rainbow Haven, each with their own story, but Baran’s plight stirred something deeper within him.Who dumps their son in a foreign country and tells him he can’t go home because they would kill him?The raw pain in Baran’s eyes, the vulnerability, and the loneliness—all of it resonated with Darien in ways he couldn’t fully explain.
As he walked down the hallway, Darien couldn’t shake the image of Baran’s tear-streaked face. He knew that look—of someone who had lost everything—but there was a flicker of strength in Baran’s gaze that intrigued him. Darien had felt a sudden, intense desire to help him, to be a part of his journey back to stability and hope.
The shelter was a sanctuary for many, a place where people found not just a roof over their heads, but a sense of belonging. And yet, Darien wanted to do more for Baran. He aspired to be the one to guide him, to help him rebuild his life and find his footing in this unfamiliar city.
Walking into his office, Darien’s thoughts were consumed by a feeling of connection he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just about offering a bed or a meal—this was about reaching out, about a human connection in its purest form. He felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, a mix of compassion and something deeper, something hinting at a potential bond.
Sitting at his desk, Darien made a promise to himself. He would check on Baran, make sure he was settling in. He would be there, not just as the shelter owner, but as a friend. The thought brought a sense of purpose, a new resolve. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew Baran had stirred something within him he couldn’t ignore.
The sound of Baran’s surname, Aslan, echoed in his mind, as if he had heard it before. Darien, a man of privilege and wealth, hailed from a family whose lineage was deeply intertwined with the land and its resources. His family’s fortune, amassed over generations, had granted him a life of opulence and ease. As the sole heir to a billion-dollar fortune, Darien found himself the custodian of vast tracts of property and a chain of homeless shelters.
The name Aslan suddenly rang a bell. He ran through the list of invited guests to his donor Christmas party. Mr. MaratAslan was one of the top donors. He knew little about the man other than that he was from Turkey, had family there, and made a lot of money. People whispered he was a practicing Muslim, even though he presented himself as a devout Catholic. Could Marat Aslan be Baran’s father? Unsure of Baran’s story, Darien devised a plan to uncover the truth. He wanted to know everything about Baran.
He called Mr. Aslan and asked if he could visit him today. He agreed and told Darien to visit him at his home in Long Island, not his apartment iin the city. Darien immediately set out through the heavy traffic to Long Island.
He stood outside the grand entrance of Marat Aslan’s estate, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. He had met many influential people in his philanthropic work, but this visit felt different. Baran’s story had touched him deeply, and now he was about to confront the man who might be responsible for his plight.
As the butler led Darien into the opulent living room, Darien couldn’t help but notice the lavish decor and the air of affluence that permeated the space. Marat Aslan, a tall man with a commanding presence, greeted him with a firm handshake.
“Mr. Aslan, thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Darien began, trying to keep his tone cordial. “I wanted to personally invite you to our upcoming fundraiser dinner for Rainbow Haven.”
Marat nodded, a polite smile on his face. “I appreciate the invitation, Mr. Moore. Your work is commendable.”
Darien took a deep breath, deciding to immediately broach the subject that had brought him here. “There’s another matter I’d like to discuss, Mr. Aslan. It’s about a young man named Baran.”
Marat’s expression remained neutral, but Darien noticed a flicker of something in his eyes. “Baran? I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name.”
Darien glanced around the room, his eyes landing on a family portrait hanging on the wall. He walked over to it, pointing to a young man who bore a striking resemblance to Baran, holding a pair of black ice skates in his hand. “Isn’t this Baran in the picture?”
Marat’s face hardened. “That was taken a long time ago. That boy is no longer part of my life.”
“Why is that?”
“He has disgraced the family in Turkey.”
Darien turned to face Marat; his voice was steady but filled with conviction. “Mr. Aslan, your son is homeless in a foreign country. How can you turn your back on him?”
