Auntie Jane stopped the car in front of Rayyan's house.
"Go in, Rayyan," she said softly. "Your mother must be waiting."
Rayyan nodded. "Auntie… at least come in for coffee. Just for a minute."
She smiled gently and shook her head.
"No… my daughter is home with the maid. She will be looking for me. "Her eyes lowered for a moment. "And your uncle… when he realizes I'm not home for lunch, there will be a scene. You know how he is."
Rayyan nodded slowly. He did know.
Auntie Jane placed a hand on his shoulder.
"When your father comes home, and when he is healthy again… call me. I will come for lunch then. We will sit together. "She smiled softly, eyes warm." And send my regards to your mother. She… welcomed me into this family when no one else did. I will never forget that."
Rayyan's chest tightened.
"Thank you, Auntie. Truly."
She nodded once more, then drove away.
Rayyan walked to his door and knocked.
Knock. Knock.
His mother opened it quickly, worry still living in her eyes.
"Rayyan… you're back. How is your father? Did you… manage to find the money?"
Rayyan exhaled slowly.
"Mom… sit down. I'll tell you everything."
They sat together on the floor — the place where every joy and every heartbreak of this family had happened.
Rayyan told her everything:
Rayyan sat beside his mother on the floor — the same spot where she used to comb his hair before school, where they had laughed and cried through years of struggling.
"Mom…" he began, voice low.
He told her everything slowly — step by step — his uncle's face, the tone, the words, the money thrown at him. Every sentence felt heavier than the last. His mother didn't interrupt. She didn't gasp. She didn't cry.
She just… listened.
When Rayyan finished, she closed her eyes.
"You see, Rayyan," she said quietly, "your father gave up his whole future for his siblings. He worked so they could eat. He walked so they could run…"Her voice trembled, but she did not let it break." And today, when he needed just a hand to hold — they turned their backs."
She placed her hand on Rayyan's.
"But remember this, son: blood is not family. Love is family."
Rayyan nodded, eyes burning.
His mother's shoulders sagged.
"She took a breath." But remember this — no matter how kind someone is… we must return what we owe. A debt is a debt. And we will repay her. Together."
Rayyan nodded.
"Yes, Mom. We will."
They ate lunch quietly — not in sadness, but in relief. A relief that felt fragile, like something that could break if touched too hard.
That evening, they packed food and Rayyan drove his mother back to the hospital.
"I will stay here tonight," she said, holding her shawl close. "Your father needs me."
Rayyan nodded.
I'll park the bike and come to the ward."
She walked ahead.
Rayyan parked, then made his way up the hallway.
When his mother entered the ward, the doctor was there.
"Madam," the doctor said with a smile, "the surgery went well. By God's grace, he is stable. We will monitor him for the next 24 hours. If everything remains fine, we can discharge him tomorrow."
His mother's eyes filled — not with sorrow this time, but relief.
Rayyan's father opened his eyes slowly.
"Where… where is Rayyan?"His voice was weak, but searching."How did you pay…? I think… I saw Jane earlier… was I dreaming…?"
His mother held his hand.
"No. Jane helped us. She paid."
There was a long silence.
His father's eyes clouded — not with relief… but with pain.
"My own brothers didn't help… did they?"
His wife shook her head.
His father nodded. He had always known.
"Jane came into this family later… yet she treats us like blood. And the ones who grew with me… turn their backs." He looked away, voice sinking." This is the world."
Rayyan entered then.
His father's eyes found him.
"Rayyan… are you okay?"
Rayyan sat down beside him. "I'm here, Dad. Don't worry."
His father's face twisted — and suddenly,
His father's breath trembled, and tears rolled down his cheeks — the kind of tears that come from years of buried regret.
"Rayyan…" His voice shook. "I hurt you. I hurt your mother. I thought being strict was the only way to make you strong. I thought… I was teaching you to survive."
He covered his face with his hands.
"But all I did was give you pain. And now, the world is giving it back to me."
Rayyan leaned closer, taking his father's hand — the same hand that once frightened him.
"Dad," he whispered, "You didn't break me. You taught me how to stand when everything collapses. I'm not angry. I'm still here. We are all still here."
His father's sobs softened.
His mother turned her face away, wiping tears silently with her shawl.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just quietly. Painfully.
"Rayyan… I'm sorry."
Rayyan froze.
"For all the times I hurt you. The times I raised my hand. The times I failed your mother. I helped everyone except the two people who needed me the most."
His voice broke.
"God is punishing me, Rayyan. For every cruelty. For every drop of blood I caused you to shed. For every fear I put in your heart…"
Rayyan reached out and held his father's hand firmly.
""Dad, Listen to me." His voice was steady, full, and deep." You are not being punished. You are being reminded. Of what truly matters."
His father cried harder.
Rayyan continued:
"You didn't break me, Dad. You built me. You taught me how to stand. How to fight. How to endure pain. Everything I am… I am because of you."
His father covered his face with his hands.
His mother turned away, wiping her quiet tears.
The room was filled with a soft sadness — but no bitterness.
Only truth.
His mother asked Rayyan to rest.
"You've done enough, son. Go home. Sleep. I will stay with your father tonight."
Rayyan nodded and walked back into the night.
He reached home, showered, ate in silence, and finally called Amir.
He told him everything.
Amir listened. Quiet. Steady.
"Bro… I'm glad Uncle is safe. Really. But listen — your test is in two days. You need to come back tomorrow. Okay?"
Rayyan closed his eyes.
"Yes… I will. For them… I must do well."
After the call, Rayyan lay on the floor. Not on the bed. The floor felt closer to his memories. Closer to his truth.
He thought of his mother — loving a man who hurt her, yet never leaving. He thought of his father — a man shaped by pain, and giving pain, but never losing love. He thought of himself — a child carrying a house full of unspoken wounds.
He understood now:
Love is not always kind. But real love stays.
He slept.
But the night was heavy — full of remembered bruises, unanswered questions, and the echo of rejection.
Morning came.
Rayyan woke early and rode to the hospital.
As he walked down the corridor, he saw someone sitting beside his father's bed — back turned, hair familiar.
He thought it was a cousin.
But when he entered the room—
He froze.
It was Lisa.
Sitting beside his father. Her head bowed. Her eyes tired. Her hands trembling.
Rayyan's breath stopped.
Why is she here?
why?????
And what does this mean now?
why can't I run away from her?
The world did not stop for heartbreak. But sometimes…it circles right back to it.