Jaan-e-Azlan❤

12(edited)

Mantasha stirred from her slumber, her throat dry and yearning for a sip of water. The absence of her trusty jug by her bedside felt odd; she seldom awoke in the dead of night. With a sigh, she tied her hair into a disheveled bun and descended the stairs, her steps muffled by the darkness that enveloped the house.

In the cool embrace of the kitchen, she retrieved a bottle of chilled water from the fridge, its condensation slipping through her fingers as she drank thirstily. As she replaced the bottle, a flicker of movement caught her eye from the garden outside.

Curiosity piqued, she ventured into the night, her senses alert to the unfamiliar presence.There, beneath the star-strewn sky, sat her father, his silhouette a solitary figure amidst the shadows. Wordlessly, she approached, her heart heavy with unspoken questions. Without a word, she settled beside him, the cool grass beneath them a cushion against the weight of their shared silence. Together, they gazed upwards, finding solace in the timeless expanse of the night sky.

"Missing Mama?" Mantasha inquired softly, her voice a whisper in the stillness of the night. Her father turned to her, his eyes meeting hers, finding solace in the familiar warmth of her gaze. She was his everything, his reason for enduring each day without her mother. With a wistful smile, he nodded, his heart heavy with longing.

"Is it that obvious?" he replied, a sad chuckle escaping his lips as he averted his gaze once more to the stars above. Mantasha reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, her touch a silent reassurance of her presence and understanding.

"Papa, do you think Mama is watching us right now?" she asked softly, her voice laced with hope. He shrugged, the weight of uncertainty heavy upon his shoulders. Yet, in that fleeting moment beneath the vast expanse of the night sky, they found comfort in the possibility of her mother's eternal presence.

Azlan awoke to the faint glow of the garden lights seeping through his window, casting a soft illumination in the darkness of his room. Curious, he peered outside, his eyes settling on the figures below. With a furrowed brow, he descended the stairs, drawn by an unseen force toward the garden where the two figures sat.

As Mantasha's voice reached his ears, he halted at the threshold, an invisible barrier separating him from the intimate exchange unfolding before him. He remained rooted in place, a silent observer to their poignant conversation.

"Maybe," her father responded, his voice tinged with resignation. Mantasha's words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a testament to the depth of her love and understanding.

"If she is listening, then you know what I'll tell her?" she continued, her voice trembling with emotion. He turned to her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, awaiting her words with bated breath.

"That... you are the bravest man I've ever seen," Mantasha began, her voice quavering with emotion. "That... you are the best father in this whole world. That... you still miss her and love her with all your heart. That... you still gaze at stars and talk about her," she confessed, her words a balm to his wounded heart.

Tears welled in both their eyes as Mantasha continued, her voice trembling with raw honesty. "That... you still haven't moved on. That... you still cry your heart out for her like the first day she left us. And that... I can still see the emptiness in your eyes. I can still feel how sad you are," she confessed.

With a gentle touch, Mantasha wiped away her father's tears, her own cascading down her cheeks in silent solidarity. "I miss her too, Papa," she whispered brokenly, seeking solace in his embrace.

In that moment of shared grief, Azlan's heart swelled with empathy for the father and daughter before him. Though his instinct was to intervene, he recognized the sanctity of their bond and the healing power of their shared vulnerability.