A Tale of Hearts

Chapter Sixty Three

Kamran's POV:

I don't know how I had managed to walk all the way to my parent's room. Zoya held my hand throughout the process. I think at one point, in my state of frenzy, I leaned on her to make sure I didn't fall to my knees.

It was amusing that Zoya had thought I was keeping her in a hotel or something but it was actually my room. I had just emptied it of all potential weapons that Zoya could use against me. There was no way I would take her to a hotel. I had waited fourteen years for her to step into my space again. To feel her actual presence there rather than just an illusion made from my own imagination. I had lost count of the amount of times I had imagined Zoya roaming my room and poking stuff randomly and maybe even breaking something. It was Zoya. She was capable of it.

The other person I had imagined was always my beloved older sister Kainat. I had imagined that one day she would enter my room again and nag me for leaving my clothes on the carpet. She would frown and then lecture me on the importance of hygiene and responsibility. It was Kainat. She was always like that. And so what was happening right now felt truly otherworldly to me.

I had decided to tell ammi and abbu about what Zoya had told me. They deserved to know more than anyone.

The weight of the news I carried settled like a boulder upon my chest, making each step towards my parents' room an arduous journey. Hope and fear tangled within me and overwhelmed my senses. Every step felt like it would bring me down. Whenever I felt like I was losing balance, Zoya was right there to support me. She was my anchor. 

I approached the door, my hand trembling as I raised it to knock. The anticipation hung heavy in the air. There was a palpable tension that was twisting my gut. Impatience pushed me so I turned the knob, announced my presence and pushed the door open, revealing the gloomy atmosphere within. Something that had become a common event after Kainat was gone.

My mother, an epitome of silent grace sat by the window, her silhouette softened by the gentle glow of the sunset. Her eyes, the same golden brown as Kainat met mine as I entered the room. She was used to spending her days looking outside the window. Towards the sea. It was her moment of tranquility. Beside her stood abbu, his stoic façade welcomed me as he nodded his head towards me. A nod I returned. Despite that, he couldn't hide the surprise and calculating look in his eyes.

"Why are your eyes puffy?" Ammi spoke up as she blinked her eyes slowly at me. That delayed reaction meant that she had taken her anti-depressants an hour or so ago. Zoya had let go of my hand at the door and wanted to give me and my family the privacy and space to talk. It was truly kind of her but I wanted to her to be a part of this too. She was a major reason for it. I had already decided that I was going to bring her inside at the right moment.

"Maa, Abba" my voice trembled, what I was about to reveal suddenly constricted my throat. "There's something I need to tell you."

Their gazes locked onto mine, a mixture of trepidation and desperate hope reflected in their eyes. And in that moment, I felt the gravity of the situation, of the responsibility to deliver news that could either shatter or heal them.

"Are you okay? You don't look good." Abbu finally asked. His eyes reflected an unexplainable intensity of concern. The tears I didn't know I was holding back rolled down my cheeks and touched the wooden floor. At this point both ammi and abbu rushed to my side. They hadn't seen my cry since that day, fourteen years ago.

"What is it? What happened to you? Talk to us please." Ammi sounded desperate as she tried to hold my shoulders with her frail fingers. All that anxiety and pain had aged her beautiful face. While the tears fell freely, I found myself smiling.

"She is alive." The moment those words left my mouth, my body relaxed and I hugged my mother and rested my head on her shoulder. My tears drenched her shawl. "She is alive." I felt myself repeat. After a few moments of silence, mother spoke up first.

"Kainat," my mother's voice, barely a whisper, trembled with anticipation. "Is it about Kainat?"

I nodded. The room went dead silent. I could hear my mother's breath and father's thumping heartbeat. With a deep breath, I looked up and began to recount the tale that Zoya had unraveled before me. The possibility that my long-lost sister might not be lost or dead at all, that she was truly alive. It wasn't a way to console myself and bring me back to sanity anymore. It was a reality.

Denial flickered across my parents' faces, swiftly replaced by a fragile hope that shimmered in the air like a fragile fire in the wind. It could be diminished any second. Tears welled in my mother's eyes, a mixture of disbelief and unspoken prayers.

"She can't... she can't be alive," my father murmured, his voice a tremor of disbelief. But beneath the skepticism was a glimmer of hope. Deep down, all of us had prayed for this miracle. At this point, I turned to look at the entrance. All eyes turned in that direction too.

Zoya stood quietly in the corner, her presence a silent witness to the unfolding emotions. My childhood friend, my beloved Anushay, was the real bearer of this life-altering news. She stood there awkwardly, watching the moments unfold.

As the truth began to settle into the room, my mother's composure shattered. She fell to her knees. A gruelling scream erupted from her fragile body. Tears streamed down her cheeks, carrying the weight of the years filled with longing and heartache.

Zoya, recognising the turn of events, stepped forward tentatively. She knelt down beside mother and held unto her shoulders to calm her down. As my mother turned to her, a wave of gratitude and recognition washed over her tear-streaked face. She enveloped Zoya in a tight embrace, the physical embodiment of her gratitude and a silent acknowledgment of the role she played in this revelation.

"Thank you," my mother whispered, her voice quivering with emotion. Her hazy blurry eyes slowly focused on Zoya's face. "I remember you, dear child." My mother's thin fingers touched Zoya's cheek gently.

Zoya nodded, her own eyes brimming with unshed tears. She placed a hand on her fingers and I could tell she was trying her best to stay strong for my mother. Father had watched this scene unfold silently. He had lost his balance and grabbed the edge of the bed to stabilise himself.

I could tell he was processing the information in a different way. There was hope but most of his reaction encompassed the anger I had felt towards Wassal and Uncle Buland. The betrayal was simply so lethal.

At this moment, our emotions soared and crashed like waves against a rocky shore. Denial clashed with hope, shock intertwined with happiness, and pain mingled with the faint beginnings of healing.

My mother's sobs filled the room, intermingling with Zoya's whispered assurances. Amidst the tears and overwhelming emotions, a fragile peace descended—a moment of solace that wrapped around us like a comforting embrace. A comfort we thought we had forgotten over the years. It felt so new. 

"Thank you, Anushay for telling us this. You saved my son fourteen years ago when you jumped infront of a truck for him. And today you have saved our family again. I will forever be indebted to you." Father hesitantly placed a hand atop Zoya's head as a form of acknowledgement and appreciation. To think Zoya would blend into my family like this. It was unthinkable even for me. I felt my heart swell. I was so proud of her. 

"Kamran, call up Saqib, Ibraheem, Zubair and Fahad. I no longer recognise Buland as my brother anymore. Wassal will pay for this. I promise you," abbu turned to me and held ammi's hand softly, "I will bring Kainat back and our family will be complete again."

"Already on it, abbu. We will bring Kainat back no matter what it takes."

The truth, although uncertain had brought us together. There was finally a promise of a new beginning. Or more like the restart of a chapter that had stopped entirely for us. The gaping hole that Kainat had left years ago filled just a little but it was enough for us. 

Time that had stood still finally resumed for us.

Author's Note:

This was such an important and emotional chapter to write. It was necessary to connect the dots. I hope it left an impact on you all as it did for me.

The gang will finally unite in the next chapter.