Ishq | (complete)

64 | wajdan

❝Bichra Kuch Iss Ada Se Ke Rut He Badal Gayi
Ek Shakhs Saare Shehr Ko Viran Kar Gaya❞

His swollen eyes pleaded with hers, desperate for her to rescue him from this moment. But she took a deep breath, steadying herself, and adjusted the knot of his tie, though it was already perfect.

"Shehryar," she said, her hands cupping his face. "You need to forgive yourself." Her fingers moved gently over the rough stubble of his jawline. "You've forgiven everyone, even Asmara. But you're still punishing yourself, not allowing yourself to heal from Wajdan's death."

"I can't do this. I'm ashamed of myself for not visiting his grave," he whispered, his voice trembling with guilt. His eyes, red and brimming with tears, spoke volumes. Wajdan, his son, was so often forgotten by the world, but in his heart, he was very much alive.

"I'm here with you," she reassured him, interlacing her fingers with his and gently pulling him towards the entrance of the place he had always wanted to visit but was terrified to face.

The pain that had been buried inside him surged to life in full force. His grip on Laila's hand tightened, but she remained silent, understanding the weight of his grief. Each step he took towards the tiny grave felt like a searing blade twisting in his heart. Wajdan. He would have been old enough now to follow Shehryar everywhere, experiencing the thrill of teenage freedom and battle with his parents' rules. Instead, the reality of his absence was a crushing weight, and the ache of what could have been only grew stronger with each passing moment.

As Shehryar approached the small grave, he could feel his heart breaking all over again. He fell to his knees, barely able to support himself. Laila's hand slipped from his, but he needed to be alone with his son, to grieve with him and him alone. He needed to come to terms with the fact that his son's tiny soul had returned to Allah, and his body lay six feet under the ground. She took a step back, covering her mouth to stifle any sounds as tears streamed down her face.

Shehryar's heart felt like it was being crushed into a million pieces. He begged God for one last miracle, to let him hold his son again, to gaze into those beautiful eyes and memorize his face once more. But he knew it was impossible. Staring at the small gravestone etched with his son's name, It was a testament to the mercy of Allah that he was still breathing.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to come see you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry you had to suffer so much. I'm sorry, Wajdan" Shehryar's voice, choked with emotion, trembled as he spoke to his son's resting place. The words he uttered were heavy with regret and sorrow, each syllable a weight upon his heart. He couldn't help but feel the guilt and pain, like a storm within him that threatened to consume him entirely. As he gazed upon the small gravestone, it was as if it had opened up to swallow his agony, pulling from him the grief he had held onto for so long. He poured out his emotions like a river, each tear a testament to the love he still held for his lost child. The pain and anger he had carried within him were finally finding release, like a storm raging in his soul finally giving way to a calmness that he had longed for.

Laila placed her gentle hand on his trembling shoulder, offering him solace in her embrace. As she settled down beside him, she spoke softly, her words a balm to his grieving heart.

"I'm sure his soul is watching you from somewhere above, Shehryar. He's praying for your solace, praying for the day when you'll reunite with him in the next life," she whispered, her voice hushed with empathy

Her words were like a balm to his wounded soul, a glimmer of light in the darkness that had enveloped him. And for a moment, as they sat there together in silence, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. As if Wajdan's presence was there, in the rustling of leaves and the soft whisper of the wind