Chapter 63
Shaqar restrained himself from an outburst of emotions, an event that often surfaced when answering Absyumura's questions.
Relief and joy should have filled every answer, making him smile or even pouring out hidden happiness through brief words.
But the burden that piled up was so heavy, pressing down so deeply that such feelings were drowned.
The responsibility as leader of Team Xirkushkartum kept pressing, each step he took carrying consequences that could not be ignored, while the accusations arising from his own family line only grew larger, suffocating the space where a fragment of joy might appear.
Behind obedience and composure, Shaqar recognized the deepest fear, not only for the safety of Miara—his only child—but also for the grandchild born of Miara and Absyumura's marriage.
The little one, still under the age of five, was surely standing within an important phase of personality and emotional development.
And Shaqar knew how critical this period was, especially in an environment saturated with the influence of satanic followers.
Every second of communication felt like a test, every voice heard through the device penetrated Shaqar's awareness and stirred waves of relief mixed with fear.
He understood that even the slightest mistake, or absence in providing protection and guidance, could affect, solely worsening the perception of his child and grandchild toward him.
The thought that both might come to despise him added another layer, the weight of an unseen yet very real pressure.
Thus, his breath was heard long and heavy over the communication line, proof of an inner struggle, that the calm on the surface was only a thin skin over a consciousness filled with responsibility and guilt.
Shaqar understood, realizing that the smile which used to come so easily must now be restrained, replaced by an awareness of consequences far greater than himself.
In the silence that formed after every question, Shaqar discovered a brief point where fear and relief met.
He weighed each word, every piece of information delivered, with the realization that this communication was not just an ordinary dialogue, but a bridge between the safety of his family and the larger mission.
Each long exhale was a sign.
Not of weakness, but an admission that he carried a burden beyond himself, that love and responsibility together influenced every decision and reaction he held.
The presence of Absyumura as the questioner was not only as a son-in-law, but as a symbol of moral and emotional responsibility that must always be preserved, keeping Shaqar both alert and aware of the importance of stability that had to be maintained.
"May I ask, is it true that the accusations are growing worse?
Regarding the family, about your responsibility that is claimed to have never been fulfilled since joining Team Xirkushkartum?"
"They say I was absent, unwilling to attend dozens of family events, occasions that should have celebrated my achievements.
And when my beloved wife passed away, once more they demanded my presence—the last time—but again it had to be postponed, for there was a matter I could not abandon.
Only eight days later could I return."
"That is indeed heavy, but you must remain patient.
Do not let accusations destroy your heart.
Did you not promise to endure, to stand firm at least—whether for the family, or for Miara and your beloved grandchild?"
'Almost powerless, I would rather surrender this consciousness to The Unnamable Source.
Yet I must endure.
For them, for dearest Maria, for the grandchild and everything tied to it.
I dedicate all of this to you, Most Honored Sanse…'
"I am here, and together we will find a way.
Together we will mend it for you, and for the family.
Does that not look admirable?"
"...."
"Do not dwell on it like that.
Together we will eradicate it, not letting this continue to deceive.
And cast far away the thought of running.
Here you are not alone."
"I will try."
The shadows of the past stabbed again and again, and this time pressed Shaqar harder, shattering him so deeply as the device remained in his hand, unleashing a tide of emotions that almost broke him.
Every word from Absyumura, asking about the accusations and the anger swelling within Shaqar's family, pierced the shield, the inner defense he had long built, forcing old memories to surface one by one.
Dozens of family gatherings unattended, triumphs that should have been celebrated, even the heaviest moment when his beloved wife died—all of it gnawed at him so sharply once more.
Shaqar nearly lost his balance, almost weeping into the communication, remembering how his absence was seen as betrayal of family ties, how eight days of work obligations were judged as an unforgivable neglect by his only child—Miara.
His breath was heavy, and his heart seemed to pound faster, marking the battle between profound guilt and unyielding duty.
On the other hand, the awareness that Absyumura remained there, positioning himself as support, brought a strange relief amid the pressure.
The questions from his son-in-law were not merely demands for answers, but subtle reminders to be patient, to strengthen the heart, and to endure.
Absyumura seemed to channel positive energy, granting Shaqar space to realize that this burden did not have to be borne alone.
Every pause, every intonation across the device became a calming bridge, as though whispering that though responsibility and accusations grew heavier, there was still someone who cared and sought a path forward for this newly formed family.
Shaqar felt a combination of fear and relief, realizing that his little grandchild was also a reason to remain steadfast, a reason that could not be ignored even as the inner pressure grew heavier.
Absyumura was not only a voice of reminder, but also a symbol of tangible support, bringing hope that family bonds—though fragile and scattered with past thorns—could be strengthened through patience and understanding.
Every long breath exhaled over the device echoed as a mark of his truest struggle, a reflection that though nearly collapsing, Shaqar still strove to maintain stability for the sake of those he loved.
"Safe and cheerful, everything is in such good condition.
Both myself, Miara my beloved daughter.
And the little one as well, wrapped in the peace of a blanket.
No danger threatens, ensuring this new family exists in a scenario that need not be feared."
Still in the dim room, Shaqar sat alone, staring blankly at the wall that seemed to absorb all thought.
The shadows of the past clung so heavily, forcing old wounds to reopen, every failure once swallowed in silence now resurfacing, sharp enough to pierce the heart.
Memories of what should have been warm, laughter-filled family moments shifted, turning instead into waves of guilt that would not subside, pressing against his heart as if to break his endurance.
The loss of his beloved wife, the departure once buried in order to continue as leader of Team Xirkushkartum, returned to dance mockingly before his eyes, forcing Shaqar to reconsider every decision he had ever made—and every day spent far from the family he loved now smelled of regrets that could never be undone.
His breath trembled and grew heavy.
Yet he found a strange strength, quietly urging him to remain upright though the storm of emotions kept gnawing at his soul.
In the midst of pressure, the image of Absyumura lingered in Shaqar's mind, present as something both calming and affirming.
A subtle energy that radiated—even through a device spanning distance—granted space for Shaqar to feel brief relief, to know that not every burden had to be borne alone.
Every pause detected, every calm voice heard became a support, a pillar within the most fragile corridors of Shaqar's soul, bringing awareness that responsibility toward family—though so heavy—could still be faced with patience and trust.
To be continued…