𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

53

Arsalan POV:

I stand before my father's grave, the weight of the moment heavy upon me. We have just laid him to rest. Memories of my past flood my mind-how he used to take me to watch the stars when we were in the countryside, how he would play with me in the rain, laughing like we didn't have a care in the world. I remember the way he taught me to ride a bike, patiently running alongside me until I found my balance. The way he always made time to listen to my endless questions, no matter how busy he was. These memories, once so comforting, now weigh heavy on my heart.

A hand lands gently on my shoulder, and I turn to see my father-in-law standing beside me. "He's in a better place," he says softly, his voice carrying a calm reassurance. "A place where he is at peace, free from pain and struggle." He pauses, his gaze distant as if he's searching for the right words, "Arsalan, I know that you didn't want to marry Airah, but you did it because your father asked you to," he says, his voice filled with gratitude. "That was a decision that I will forever be indebted to your father for, and to you as well. You honored his wishes, and it brought our families together in ways I can never repay." He pauses, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady his emotions. "Just remember that he was the best father you could ever have."

After a while, everyone leaves, but I stay behind, needing some time alone. I stand there, staring at my father's grave, my mind full of thoughts that won't settle. Was I a good son? Did I do enough for him? These questions keep running through my head as I remember our time together, wondering if I made him proud. I think about the times I didn't call when I should have, the moments I was too busy to listen, and all the times I was too stubborn to see his point of view.

Regret starts to fill me, and I wonder if I ever truly appreciated everything he did for me, all the sacrifices he made without asking for anything in return. I think about our last conversation and wish I had said more, done more. The weight of everything I didn't say or do sits heavy on my chest. Was I there for him when he needed me most? Did he know how much I loved him, even if I didn't say it enough?

As I stand there, I feel a mix of sadness and guilt, wondering if I was the son he deserved.

Airah POV:

I sit with Arsalan's mother, holding her hand as she stares off into the distance. She stopped crying a while ago; now, if someone looked at her, they might think she was emotionless. "Arsalan's father was a very great man," she says, her voice dry and brittle. "You know I'm an orphan, right?" She looks at me, and I nod, understanding that she needs someone to listen to everything she's feeling and going through right now. She looks away again and says, "He accepted me when no one else did. He understood me when no one else could." She pauses, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "He fed and clothed me when no one else would." Then she starts to sob. I hug her, gently patting her back. I feel the wetness on my own cheeks and realize that I'm crying too.

The door to my mother-in-law's room opens, and Arsalan steps inside, looking like he's at his worst. His hair falls over his forehead, and his grey eyes look empty and lost. He closes the door behind him and walks to the bed, sitting down in front of his mother, who is still crying.

"Ma..." His voice is thick with emotion as he touches her cheeks, gently wiping away her tears. She wraps her arms around him, and he hugs her back, burying his face in her shoulder.

"Was I a good son? Was I the son he deserved?" he asks quietly, his voice filled with pain. "Was he proud of me? Was he happy with me?"

His mother nods. "He was, Arsalan. He was happy and proud of you."

Arsalan pulls away, and though he isn't crying, I can see the hurt in his eyes. He's breaking inside. "But I went against his wishes and went to the U.S.," he says, his voice cracking.