Meesam stood at the edge of the vast green fields that led up to the haveli, her heart heavy with an indescribable weight. The towering gates loomed before her, a familiar sight that once symbolized safety, warmth, and laughter. But now, they felt distant, cold—haunted by the absence that awaited her beyond them. She clutched her phone in trembling hands, the message that had shaken her world to its core replaying in her mind on an endless loop.
Her parents were gone.
Murtasim Khan, the fearless patriarch of the Khan family, and Meerab, the woman who had defied the very fate thrust upon her, were no more.
Gone.
A sob tore through her chest as she stared at the gates of the haveli. She had grown up in this place, the sprawling estate that had been her playground, her sanctuary, and most of all, her home. It was where her parents had loved her fiercely, where they had fought their battles—both with each other and for each other. This was where they had shared their most intimate moments, raised their voices in heated arguments, and eventually found peace in each other's arms.
And now, it was a place without them. A void. A home emptied of its heart.
"Are you ready?" Her husband, Saad, asked gently, his voice soft as he placed a hand on her shoulder. His eyes mirrored the sadness in hers, knowing the journey they were about to take was not just one of physical return, but a pilgrimage of memories, love, and loss.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her grief. "How can I say goodbye to them, Saad? How do I let go?"
Saad pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, as though his embrace could shield her from the crushing reality. "You don’t have to let go, Meesam. They’ll always be with you—in every memory, in everything they taught you. But this… this is what they would want. To be at peace together. You know how much they loved each other."
Meesam nodded against his chest, blinking away her tears as she turned her gaze toward the haveli once more. Her children, Ayaan and Zara, stood quietly beside them, their little faces somber, as though they too understood the gravity of this moment. Ayaan clung to his father's hand, while Zara held onto the edge of Meesam’s dupatta, her wide eyes staring up at her mother.
"Are we going to see Nana and Nani?" Zara asked in her soft, innocent voice.
The question was like a dagger to Meesam’s heart. How could she explain to her young children that they wouldn’t see their grandparents anymore, that the vibrant, loving figures who had been such an integral part of their lives were now gone forever?
She knelt down, pulling Zara into her arms and brushing her daughter’s hair away from her face. "Nana and Nani have gone to a very special place, my love," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "A place where they’ll always be together. But we’re going to say goodbye to them today."
Zara furrowed her brow, confusion evident in her big, round eyes. "But why can’t they come back with us? Why do we have to say goodbye?"
Meesam swallowed hard, fighting back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill. "Because sometimes, people we love have to go away. But it doesn’t mean they stop loving us. Nana and Nani will always love you, Zara. They’ll always be in our hearts."
Zara nodded, though she didn’t fully understand, and Meesam kissed her forehead before rising to her feet. Her own words echoed in her mind, but they offered little solace. Her heart was breaking into pieces, and no amount of rationalizing could dull the pain of knowing she would never see her parents again.
