As Aliza and her mother walked out of Adil's house, the weight of their loss hung heavily in the air. Aliza's thoughts were consumed with memories of Adil—their laughter during summer outings, the way he always knew how to lift her spirits. Each step felt heavier than the last as they made their way to the car.
Mom: (softly) Aliza, dear, I know this is hard for you. It's okay to grieve, but remember, Adil would want us to celebrate the joy he brought into our lives.
Aliza: (tearfully) I can't help but feel guilty, Mom. If only I had insisted on taking a different route, or if we had left earlier…
Mom: (gently) Sometimes, things happen beyond our control. We must hold onto the good times and cherish the memories. Adil's spirit will always be with you.
As they drove home, the streets blurred past, but Aliza's mind remained stuck in the past. Memories of Adil flickered like images from an old film, bright and beautiful but tinged with sorrow. She felt a deep ache in her heart, a mix of love and loss.
Later that evening, at home…
Aliza sat in her room, staring at her phone, contemplating whether to reach out to Aiza and Fahad. After a moment, she decided to send a message.
Aliza: Hey, how are you both holding up?
Moments later, her phone buzzed with replies.
Aiza: Still in the hospital, but I'm okay. Just a bit sore. How about you?
Fahad: Same here. Just waiting to get discharged. It's hard to believe what happened. I keep replaying it in my head.
Aliza felt a sense of relief knowing that her friends were recovering, but the sorrow of losing Adil weighed heavily on her. She stared at the screen, hesitating before typing.
Aliza: I miss him so much. I can't believe he's gone. We need to stay strong for him.
As she pressed send, a single tear slipped down her cheek. She thought of Adil, his contagious laughter, and the way he always encouraged them to chase their dreams.
The following morning…
Aliza awoke to the sun filtering through her curtains, its light bringing a semblance of warmth to her heavy heart. Her mother knocked softly on the door.
Mom: Aliza, sweetheart, it's time for breakfast. We can talk more about Adil if you'd like.
Aliza nodded, wiping her eyes and gathering her thoughts. As they sat at the breakfast table, her mother poured her a cup of tea.
Mom: (with care) You know, Adil's mother might need our support too. It's important to check on her and offer our condolences again.
Aliza: (sighing) I know, Mom. I just don't know what to say. It feels so inadequate.
Mom: Sometimes, just being there is enough. She's hurting, just like you. Sharing in that pain can help both of you heal.
Aliza took a deep breath, the idea of reaching out to Mrs. Fatima felt daunting, but she knew her mother was right.
Later that day…
After finishing breakfast, Aliza and her mother decided to visit Mrs. Fatima. As they drove through the streets of Muzaffarabad, Aliza looked out the window, the scenery reflecting her turmoil—a mix of life and loss, vibrant yet haunting.
When they arrived, Mrs. Fatima welcomed them with open arms, her eyes still red from crying.
Mrs. Fatima: (holding Aliza tightly) Thank you for coming, dear. It means so much to me.
Aliza: (with a shaky voice) I'm so sorry, Aunt Fatima. Adil was… he was a wonderful friend.
Mrs. Fatima: (tears streaming down her face) He loved you all so much. I can't believe he's gone.
They sat together in the living room, sharing stories of Adil—the good times, the laughter, and the dreams he had for the future. With each story, the weight of grief began to feel a little lighter, replaced by the warmth of cherished memories.
Meanwhile, at the hospital…
As Alia and Aliza were recovering in the hospital, Major Hamza Siddiqui stood outside the ICU, contemplating the aftermath of the tragic accident. His mind replayed the scene of the crash: the twisted metal of the vehicle, the screams of those trapped inside, and the urgency of the rescue efforts. He knew all too well the gravity of what had transpired that day.
When he first arrived at the accident site, he had rushed to assist the Pakistan Army rescue team, coordinating the evacuation of the injured. His heart sank as he realized that one of the victims, a young man named Adil, was in critical condition.
Major Hamza: (to himself) It's a miracle that Alia and Aliza survived. But Adil…
Just then, he spotted Mrs. Munira walking towards him, a worried expression on her face.
Maj Hamza: (approaching her) Assalam o Alekum. You must be Mrs. Munira. I have been looking for you.
Mrs. Munira: (anxiously) Yes, I am. How are my daughters?
Maj Hamza: Alia and Aliza are stable but recovering from their injuries. Adil, however, is…
His voice trailed off, and he felt a pang of sorrow.
Mrs. Munira: (panicking) What do you mean?
Maj Hamza: (gently) Adil's condition is critical. The doctors are doing everything they can, but he has sustained severe injuries. I'm truly sorry.
The news hit Mrs. Munira like a tidal wave, and she staggered back, grasping onto a nearby wall for support.
Mrs. Munira: (choking back tears) No, please… not Adil. He's such a good boy!
Maj Hamza: (reassuringly) We are doing our best, but it's touch and go right now. You should prepare yourself…
Before he could finish, the hospital staff rushed past them, urgency in their movements, and Major Hamza's heart sank further. He had seen too much loss already, and he couldn't bear to see another family shattered.
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