Glory of the Midnight Sun √

Six

This fog of war,
This smoke from the fire.
The gray from the death,
Will take us to dust.

Omer

After knocking at the door for three times, he pushed the door open and stepped inside the room of his grandmother. He scanned the room only to find his grandmother at the middle of it, sitting on a prayer mat and offering Nawafil.

He smiled at the sight in front of it and went forward to sit on the bed. Pulling his phone out of his pockets, he powered it on.

He had powered it off last night when he was driving after receiving continuous calls from his father. He didn't want to talk to him, still angry at him for ruining his life like this.

When the phone turned on, he witnessed nine missed calls. Seven from his father, two other from his best friend, Bilal. He thought to call him after he got free and checked his messages. There was no message of importance so he turned his mobile phone off and placed it in his pocket again.

He turned his head up and smiled to see that his grandmother was looking at him, her Nawafil completed. Omer sat up, freed his feet from the shoes and after sitting down in front of her, placed his head on her lap.

She started running her hands through his thick black hair. It was peace which rushed through his body and feeling content, he smiled and closed his eyes.

"How's Ali?"

The weak voice of his grandmother reached him and he opened his eyes to look directly in her brown eyes.

"He's fine, Dado. Out of danger."

On hearing her grandson, she let out a deep breath.

"Alhamdulillah." She said, even her voice bowing down in front of the Almighty.

Omer again closed his eyes in contentment. This was his favourite place in the entire universe. His head in his grandmother's lap.

Omer was more attached to his grandmother than he was to any other member of the family. Had he wanted to share his problems to ease his burdens or wanted an advice of any sort, it was the room of his grandmother he always went to.

He loved his grandmother even more than he loved his own mother. Sometimes his mother mockingly complained to him about it and he while laughing used to say that love he have for his grandmother is grand.

"How's she?"

His grandmother asked the question he was dreading. He didn't open his eyes this time and chose to remain silent, his way of getting past the question without disturbing some strings in himself.

"Omer?"

His grandmother was in no mood to let the question slip by. He opened his eyes slowly and after looking at his grandmother's eyes for a while, closed them again.

"She's fine."

He said after a while, his voice barely a whisper.

Omer did not want to get in this conversation right now. He had always been straight forward with his Dado, telling her everything, about what was happening in his life, how he felt, everything.

He knew that if he carried on with this conversation, he'll lose himself at a point and will end up telling everything to his grandmother, a thing he was scared of. His grandmother was already distressed due to her son's heart attack. Omer didn't want to worry her more.

"Just fine?"

His grandmother was persistent, a quality Omer had inherited from her.

"Yes, Dado."