The door burst open.
Rayyan didn't feel his body move — only desperation filled him. His mother was there… standing on the brink of something unbearable. He rushed forward, pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if his life depended on it.
"Mom!" His voice cracked. "What are you doing? Why— why would you do this?" His chest was trembling violently. "You're the strongest person I know. You held this family together when everything was falling apart."
She broke — truly broke — in his arms. Her tears soaked into his shirt, her breaths uneven, shaking.
"I… I couldn't take it anymore, Rayyan…"Her voice sounded like a heart being torn in half. "When your father collapsed, I called your uncle… Your aunt answered. She said he was tired. That he needed sleep. She told me not to disturb them. "Her face twisted with a pain older than today. "She said… if anything happens, call the ambulance. Just like that. As if your father's life meant nothing."
Rayyan felt his chest burn. His hands held her tighter.
"I called your father's younger sister too," she continued, voice breaking. "She said she didn't have time for drama."
Every word was like another wound.
Rayyan's mother wiped her tears with hands that had held the entire family through storms.
"Your father gave up his dreams for his siblings. He worked so they could study. He helped them build their lives. And today… not one of them stood by him."
Rayyan swallowed the lump in his throat. This pain wasn't new — it was layered from years of sacrifice.
He lifted her chin gently.
"Mom… listen to me. "His voice was thick, but steady.
"Sometimes blood doesn't make a family. Sometimes strangers do. Last night, when I told my friends Dad was in the hospital, they didn't hesitate. They didn't ask questions. They didn't turn away. They helped me. They made sure I came home."
She stared at him — exhausted, but listening.
"You have me," Rayyan whispered. "And I have you. And Dad. That is enough. We can survive without anyone else. We will."
His mother's tears fell again — but this time, they were softer.
Rayyan stood, went to the kitchen, warmed the leftover rice and curry. He brought the plate to her.
"Eat, Mom. You haven't eaten the whole day."
He fed her carefully, gently — like she once fed him.
Tears rolled down her cheeks silently.
"I'm proud of you, Rayyan…" she whispered. "You have a heart your father gave you."
Rayyan smiled — pained, but warm.
"I am what I am because of both of you."
He finished the remaining food, washed the plate, and guided her to bed.
"Rest. I'll take care of everything."
She nodded weakly and lay down.
Rayyan stepped outside the room, leaned against the wall, and let one tear fall — just one. No more. He didn't have the luxury to break.
He sent a message to Amir:
Reached home safely. Thank you, brother.
Then he lay down for an hour, eyes open, mind spinning.
How will I find the money?
He thought of his father's siblings — the same ones who turned away. But he had to try. One last time.
The sun was rising when Rayyan got up. He washed, combed his hair, and stepped to his mother's room.
"Amma… I'll be back soon. Prepare some food for Appa. I'll bring the money."
She looked at him with fear.
"Rayyan… where are you going?"
He didn't answer.
"Trust me," he said. "I will return with help."
She nodded — because she had no choice but to believe him.
Rayyan walked toward his uncle's house — the youngest among all. The one living in a big house. The house that should have been his father's. The house his father gave up so his younger brother could have a future.
Rayyan saw the cars parked outside. A new one. And an old one — the one his father sold to support his son's college.
He knocked.
Knock. Knock.
The door opened — his uncle's little daughter peeking out.
"Daddy, big brother is here!"
His uncle came, smiling faintly.
"Ah, Rayyan. Come in. What brings you here this early?"
Rayyan breathed in slowly.
"Uncle…" he began slowly, carefully, as if the words themselves were fragile."You know Appa is in the hospital. The doctors said he needs surgery… soon."His fingers curled beside him, nails digging into his palms."If we don't do it, he might…"He couldn't finish.
He forced himself to meet his uncle's eyes.
"We don't have enough money. I tried… I went everywhere I could."His voice trembled, just once."I'm not here to ask for comfort. I'm not here to trouble you."
He breathed in, sharp and painful.
"I just need five thousand, Uncle."His voice broke — not loud, but quiet enough to hurt."I am asking for help… for my father. Your brother."
Not a demand.Not a plea.Just a son trying to save his father.
His uncle's face shifted.
"Five thousand?" he scoffed. "Rayyan, do you think money falls from the sky?"He pointed outside. "Your father sold me that old car. I paid 3,000 for that junk — not because I needed it, but to help him. And now you're here asking for more?"
Each word hit like a slap.
Rayyan lowered his eyes — not out of shame, but out of exhaustion.
"I understand. I'm sorry for troubling you. "He smiled gently at the little girl. "Goodbye, baby. Take care."
For a second, there was silence.
His uncle took out a few notes — not even close to what Rayyan asked — and threw them at him.
The money hit Rayyan's chest, slid down, and fell to the floor.
The sound of the notes touching the tiles felt louder than thunder.
His uncle stared at him — not with concern — but with annoyance.
Then, Rayyan walked away — his steps heavy but unbroken.
Pain. Disappointment. But not defeat.
Halfway home, a car slowed beside him.
"Rayyan," a familiar voice called. His aunt — the same uncle's wife.
"Come. Get in. Let me send you home."
Rayyan forced a small smile. "It's alright, Auntie Jane. I can walk."
She shook her head.
"If you respect me, get in the car."
He got in.
For a moment, neither spoke.
She turned the wheel — not toward home, but toward town.
"Auntie… this isn't the way—"
She smiled softly. "Rayyan… I know what happened. Your father helped us when we had nothing. Your uncle talks, but I remember. Get in. Sit. Let me drive."
They arrived at the hospital.
Rayyan looked at her — confused.
"Auntie… why are we here?"
She answered gently:
"Because your father needs family today. Real family."
They walked to the ward. She stopped.
"Go inside. I'll come in a moment."
Rayyan entered.
His father was still asleep — breathing slow.
Rayyan sat beside him, his shoulders sinking under the weight of everything.
Minutes later — Auntie Jane returned.
She placed a receipt in his hands.
"Everything is paid, Rayyan. The surgery is scheduled for this evening."
Rayyan froze.
He looked up slowly — his eyes overflowing.
"Auntie… I don't know what to say…"
She held his hands.
"You don't need to say anything. Your father did good for people. Today, it comes back to him. Don't worry about your uncle. Not everyone understands kindness. But I do."
Rayyan nodded — tears falling freely now.
She smiled gently.
"And about that old car… it's not junk. I still drive it. It runs beautifully. Some things have value only the heart understands."
Rayyan broke — quietly, deeply — but this time, in relief.
He closed his eyes.
God heard him.
He was not alone.