Zuhra was driving slowly along the campus road, her eyes focused ahead, but her heart was heavy with worry and sadness. Outwardly, she appeared calm, but inside was a storm — dark and pressing, like clouds about to burst into tears.
As she exited the university gates, her breathing changed — short and tight. She closed her eyes briefly and whispered:
— "Where did you go? Why didn't you come…?"
The car accelerated, as though trying to outrun the ache in her heart, chasing a question with no answer.
A vision of Amir and Ruhan, her younger siblings, came to mind — cheerful children always ready to hug her when she left and welcome her back with songs and stories.
She shook her head slightly, smiling softly:
— "I know Baba wouldn't come… he never cared for music. But you? Mama? Why did you all let this moment be empty?"
Even though she tried to stay strong, her heart was full of unanswered questions. She had called them in the morning, told them the place, the time. She dreamed of seeing their proud faces in the crowd.
But they didn't come.
Everyone else came — strangers, admirers, guests who didn't know the true depth of her journey — and they cheered for her. But the ones her heart longed for? They were missing.
— "Am I more of a performer… or a daughter?" she whispered, her eyes narrowing.
She hit the brakes gently near her neighborhood street and leaned against the car seat. The vehicle was still moving forward, but her heart felt like it had stopped completely.
A tear rolled down her cheek — slow, warm, and heavy.
— "Or have they already forgotten me… the way Baba has, for so long?"
She held herself together, wiped her tears, and sighed deeply. She had to go home, to check if they were okay, but she knew this ache wouldn't be easily washed away.
---
Zuhra walked into the house briskly, shutting the door behind her with force. Her heart pounded as if carrying a weight. She dropped her backpack on a chair, eyes scanning the room until they landed on Amir and Ruhan sitting in front of the TV, giggling at cartoons as if nothing was wrong.
— "Amir... Ruhan...?" she called, her voice edged with emotion.
They turned quickly, smiling.
"Aunty Zuhra! You're back!" Ruhan said, trying to get up to hug her.
Amir ran toward her too, but she raised a hand to stop them. Her face showed that she wasn't in the mood for smiles.
— "Where's Mama?" she asked, her voice tense.
— "She's in the kitchen," Amir replied softly, noticing how different her face looked.
A quiet clatter of spoon and pot echoed from the kitchen.
Zuhra turned and rushed toward it like flames at her heels. Inside, she found her mother stirring a pot, preparing dinner.
— "Mama?" she said sharply, her voice shaking.
Her mother turned with a gentle smile of surprise.
— "Zuhra... you're back? Go rest, I'm making dinner—"
Zuhra cut her off, eyes welling with tears.
— "Why didn't you come, Mama? I told you everything. The place, the time… I hoped to see you there. I wanted to see you smiling in the crowd… but you left me. You left me standing alone."
Her mother paused, ladle in hand, lips parted but lost for words.
— "I didn't expect Baba. But you? You and Amir and Ruhan?" Zuhra's voice cracked.
Her mother gently set the ladle down.
— "Zuhra… I didn't want to hurt you. But I'm tired of arguing with your father. Every time it's about your music… he sees it as rebellion. I couldn't handle another fight… and I didn't want to make things worse for you."
— "But I needed you. It wasn't about the argument — it was about me! You chose silence… again."
Zuhra turned away quickly, not wanting her mother to see her cry. She walked out of the kitchen fast, her heart breaking.
Amir and Ruhan stood quietly nearby, watching her with wide, worried eyes
Ban tittle din Chapter nan