KYDAH: MY SIDE OF THE STORY

2- A Soul So Searching, A path so unwinding.

"You don't always have to tell your side of the story. Time will. Yet, there is nothing wrong in telling it"
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The streets of Lahore were bustling with energy as the golden rays of the morning sun painted the city in a warm glow. Amidst the vibrant chaos, a figure clads in traditional attire, his eyes hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, moved silently through the crowd. This was Aayan Ahmed Zeyad, a man whose quiet demeanor belied a passion that burned deep within his soul.

Aayan was a diligent and introspective individual, fiercely devoted to his work as an architect. His days were spent immersed in blueprints and designs, envisioning structures that blends the modern with the traditional, incorporating Islamic aesthetics into contemporary forms. Aayan was a devotee of craft, and his creations reflected his innermost aspirations.

Born into a pious Muslim family, Aayan's faith was the cornerstone of his existence. He found solace in the tranquility of the mosques, where he often sought refuge from the clamor of the world. It was within these sacred walls that he connected with a higher power, finding inspiration and peace in the teachings of islam.

Aayan's introverted nature was often misunderstood by those around him. In a society thrived on extroversion and constant social interaction, he stood out as an anomaly. While his colleagues induldged in after-work gatherings and raucous parties, Aayan found contentment in the solitude of his studio, accompanied only by the rhythmic strokes of his pencil on paper.

His devotion to his work and his faith often left him isolated, but Aayan had grown accustomed to the solitude. He found joy in the simplicity of his routine, where the only company he needed was the gentle rustling of pages as he delved into books on architecture and Islamic history.

His passion for his craft was evident in every stroke of his pen, every meticulously measured line. With every design he created, Aayan aimed to capture the essence of his faith and translate it into palpable structures that would stand as testament to his devotion.

As Aayan navigated the streets of Lahore, his steps led him towards a construction site, where a new project was underway. It was a mosque, a place of worship that would merge the traditional architecture of the Mughal era with contemporary design elements. Aayan had poured his heart and soul into this project, striving to create a space where the faithful could find solace and spiritual nourishment.

As he stood before the construction site, surveying the progression made, a sense of satisfaction washed over him. The intricate blend of arches, domes, and geometric patterns was taking shape, reflecting the harmony between tradition and modernity that Aayan held dear. It was a testament to his unwavering commitment to his craft and his faith.

He knew very much how his deep-rooted passion and his silent dedication had not gone unnoticed. His colleagues admired his unwavering focus and dedication to his work. They saw in him a man whose every creation was imbued with a sense of reverence and devotion. His humility and unassuming nature only added to his mystique, drawing people towards him.

As the city's skyline transformed under Aayan's artistic touch, whispers about the enigmatic architect began to circulate. People began to yearn for a glimpse into the mind of the man behind these awe-inspiring structures, craving the opportunity to be in his shadow.

He looked at his wristwatch and it was 12:00 pm. The time he dreaded the most in his life. A lot might wonder why but that is a secret between the parties involved and The All-Knowing (Allah).

He picked up his phone and as if he was being timed, the message came through right that moment

"They warned me about you, I should have listened" --------- Anonymous.

He smiled, a bitter one, before sending through a reply as he always did. He will never fail to reply. He owes the person that much. That last bit of loyalty. That last bit of respect. That last bit of truth.

"From the day we met, I knew I'd hurt you eventually" ---------- Aayan.

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