The courtroom was filled with anticipation as the judge called the session to order. Every breath held meaning, and every glance carried weight. Reporters filled the gallery, eager to capture the outcome, while Hamza sat among the public, his daughter Fatima clinging to his side.
Faizan was escorted to the dock by officers, his cold, indifferent gaze hiding the turmoil beneath. He had gambled everything—false medical reports, feigned mental illness, and his connections with dangerous networks. Now, it all boiled down to this moment.
The judge addressed the court solemnly.
"After reviewing all arguments, evidence, and the recent findings regarding the falsified medical reports, the court has reached a final decision."
A quiet ripple of tension passed through the crowd. Faizan's defense lawyer sat rigid, his fingers drumming nervously against the table. The prosecution lawyer, Ayesha Malik, leaned slightly forward, her gaze steady and determined.
The judge spoke again:
"The accused, Faizan, is found guilty of the murder of Aliza Khan. Furthermore, he is guilty of betrayal of national security by leaking confidential information from the satellite launching program to hostile agents."
The courtroom buzzed with murmurs, but the judge raised his hand, silencing the room.
"These actions are inexcusable and have put both personal lives and national interests in jeopardy. As such, the court sentences the accused, Faizan, to death by hanging."
A collective gasp echoed through the gallery. Fatima tightened her grip on Hamza's arm, her small face filled with a mix of confusion and sadness. Hamza gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling both relief and sorrow welling up inside.
The judge continued:
"Additionally, Faizan is sentenced to life imprisonment for espionage and collusion with terrorist organizations. The death sentence shall be executed following due process of law. The defense is entitled to appeal, but the judgment stands."
Faizan's lawyer stood to protest, but the judge dismissed him curtly. "The court's decision is final. Proceed as you must, but this chapter closes today."
---
As Faizan was escorted out, his face was a mask of defeat. His carefully orchestrated schemes had unraveled, leaving him exposed. Outside the courtroom, news reporters swarmed, broadcasting the historic verdict to the nation.
"Breaking News: Faizan sentenced to death and life imprisonment for espionage and murder!"
---
Back inside, Hamza cradled Fatima in his arms. She looked up at him with tearful eyes and whispered, "Baba, is it really over?"
Hamza knelt and kissed her forehead, holding her close. "Almost, sweetheart. Almost."
Aaliya approached them, her face streaked with tears, but there was a new clarity in her gaze. "At least now, Aliza can finally rest."
Hamza nodded, though the ache of her loss lingered heavily in his heart. As they walked toward the exit, the weight of the past weeks began to lift—slowly but surely.
The cameras outside captured them leaving the courthouse, the end of a long, painful journey marked by bittersweet closure. But even as justice had been served, life ahead would be a road to healing, one step at a time.
Scene: The Return to Rawalpindi
A few days later, Hamza boarded the flight back to Rawalpindi with Fatima, the weight of Aliza's memories haunting him at every step. As they settled into their seats, Hamza looked out the airplane window, the familiar landscapes below slowly disappearing under the clouds. But even in the skies, he felt trapped—trapped in the void Aliza's absence had created.
He glanced over at Fatima, seated beside him, her small frame slouched against the seat. Her face was pale, and her once-bright eyes had dimmed, burdened by a sadness far beyond her years. She stared at the seatbelt in her lap, absentmindedly twisting it between her fingers, her lips pressed into a line that hadn't curved into a smile in days.
Hamza's heart ached as he watched her, helpless against the shadow of grief that loomed over his daughter. "She's forgotten how to smile," he thought, his chest tightening. This wasn't the carefree child he once knew; instead, there was a dark seriousness etched across her delicate face, a maturity no child should bear.
He leaned closer, brushing a hand gently over her hair. "Sweetheart, are you okay? Do you need anything?" he whispered, but Fatima gave a slow shake of her head, her gaze still fixed downward.
Hamza sighed, trying to mask his own sorrow for her sake. He knew there were no easy words to bring her comfort. They had both lost something irreplaceable—something that even time might struggle to heal.
As the plane's engines roared and it ascended into the sky, Hamza found himself lost in memories. He saw flashes of Aliza's smile, her laughter, and the warmth she brought into their home. But those moments now felt like they belonged to another life, one he couldn't return to.
He turned back to Fatima, whose small hand rested limply on the armrest between them. Without thinking, Hamza reached over and took her hand into his, squeezing gently. Fatima looked up at him for a moment, and for a fleeting second, her lips quivered as if she might say something—or maybe even smile. But instead, she turned her head back toward the window, silent as the clouds passed beneath them.
Hamza kissed the top of her head softly. "We'll get through this, my love. I promise." But as he looked at her once more, the silence between them felt like an ocean they would have to cross together—one day at a time.
And so, the flight continued, carrying them back to Rawalpindi, back to a home that would never feel the same again.
Scene: Parents' Day at Fatima's School
A few months later, the warm sun shone down on the school courtyard, filled with excited chatter and laughter as students ran around holding their parents' hands. Balloons bobbed above heads, and decorations brightened the walls with banners reading, "Happy Parents' Day!" The joyous atmosphere was contagious—except for the silent ache in Fatima's heart.
Fatima stood quietly near her classroom door, watching the other children greet their parents. Her gaze drifted to the familiar sight of classmates with both their parents—mothers hugging their children, fathers lifting them into the air. The emptiness inside her grew heavier. For years, her parents had always been a pair. But now, that pair was broken.
Her little hands gripped the hem of her uniform skirt as she bit her lip to keep her emotions from spilling out. Memories of last year's celebration resurfaced, when it was her mother, Aliza, standing by her side, smiling and laughing. She had missed her father terribly that day, hoping he'd join them the next year.
And this year, he had come.
She spotted Hamza walking toward her through the crowd, dressed neatly in his work clothes, carrying a gentle smile that softened his tired face. Her heart leapt for a moment, and then it sank again—because while her father was here now, her mother never would be again.
Still, for the first time in months, Fatima smiled. A small, bittersweet smile, like a patch of sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. "At least Baba is here," she whispered to herself, clinging to the solace she could find.
Hamza knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her small frame, holding her as if trying to shield her from the world's sadness. "I wouldn't miss this for anything," he said softly.
Fatima's arms circled his neck, and she held him tight, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. "I missed you last year, Baba," she whispered. "But now I miss Mama so much."
Hamza's heart shattered at her words, but he kept his voice steady. "I know, sweetheart. I know." He kissed her forehead gently, trying to soothe the ache neither of them could put into words. "But I'm here with you now. Always."
They stayed like that for a moment, father and daughter clinging to each other in a quiet understanding that some things would never be the same. But they also knew they had each other—and that had to be enough for now.
Hamza stood up, holding Fatima's hand as they walked together into the celebration. As other children played with both parents, Fatima knew her heart would always carry that empty space where her mother's love once lived. But today, she smiled anyway—for her father, for herself, and for the love they still shared.
And even though that smile held sadness beneath it, it was a start. A small step toward healing. A reminder that life would move forward, one moment at a time.
Scene: A Reunion Plan
A month had passed since the painful Parents' Day at Fatima's school. The days felt slow, yet life moved forward in small ways for everyone. At home in Lahore, Aaliya and her mother, Miss Muneera, sat together in the living room. The silence between them carried the weight of unspoken emotions, the absence of Aliza looming over every conversation and every breath.
The early afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden hue on the familiar furniture. Aaliya sipped her tea thoughtfully, then glanced at her mother, who seemed lost in her own world, staring at nothing in particular.
Aaliya finally broke the silence. "I've been thinking... we should visit Hamza and Fatima in Rawalpindi. It's been too long."
Miss Muneera nodded slowly, setting her teacup down with a soft clink. "Yes... we should. Fatima needs us, and Hamza too."
They both knew the weight Hamza was carrying, raising a daughter who was far too young to have lost her mother. And Fatima—though resilient—needed the comfort only family could provide. Aaliya felt an ache in her heart thinking of the little girl, who was now navigating the world without her mother's love and guidance.
"I wonder how Fatima is coping," Aaliya murmured, her voice tinged with concern. "She's so young to face something like this."
Her mother sighed deeply. "She's strong, but no child should have to be that strong. And Hamza... he must feel so lost. It's not easy being both a father and a mother."
Aaliya's gaze softened as she watched her mother. "We need to be there for them."
Miss Muneera gave a firm nod. "Then it's decided. We'll leave for Rawalpindi next weekend."
Aaliya smiled gently. "Yes, let's. I'll call Hamza and let him know."
As Aaliya picked up her phone to dial Hamza's number, a strange feeling washed over her—a mixture of hope and sorrow. Life was moving forward, but there was still so much healing left to do. And right now, the best way to heal was to be together as a family.
When Hamza answered the call, his voice was calm but tired, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Aaliya's heart ached for him, but she kept her tone light.
"Hamza, we're planning to visit you and Fatima next weekend. Would that be okay?"
There was a brief silence on the other end before Hamza replied, "Of course, Aaliya. Fatima will be so happy to see you both."
Aaliya smiled. "We'll see you soon, then."
As she hung up, she looked at her mother with quiet determination. "It's time we help them feel like a family again."
Miss Muneera reached over and squeezed Aaliya's hand, her eyes filled with both grief and love. "We'll do this together, my dear. We'll make sure they know they're not alone."
And with that, the reunion plan was set—a step toward rebuilding what had been broken and finding strength in the bonds that still remained.
Scene: A Warm Reunion
That weekend, Aaliya and Miss Muneera arrived at the Rawalpindi airport. The bustling crowd faded into the background as they scanned the arrivals area, hearts pounding with both anticipation and emotion. It had been months since they last saw Hamza and Fatima, and now the long-awaited reunion was finally here.
Near the entrance, they spotted Hamza standing tall, his expression a mixture of relief and weariness. Right beside him, little Fatima held his hand tightly, her eyes scanning the crowd anxiously. The moment her gaze landed on Aaliya, her face lit up with the purest joy.
"Auntie!" Fatima cried out, her voice filled with excitement. She broke free from Hamza's grasp and ran toward Aaliya.
Aaliya dropped her bags instantly and knelt down, arms wide open. Fatima leaped into her embrace, burying her face into Aaliya's neck with a small, happy sob. "I missed you so much, Auntie," she whispered, clinging to her.
Aaliya kissed the top of her niece's head, whispering back, "I missed you too, my little angel." She held Fatima tightly in her arms, feeling the warmth and innocence that still survived in the child despite the recent tragedy.
Miss Muneera stood a few steps behind, watching the heartwarming reunion with tears glistening in her eyes. She turned toward Hamza, and the two exchanged a silent nod—an acknowledgment of the shared grief they carried, but also the hope that this moment brought.
"As-salamu alaykum, Hamza," Miss Muneera greeted warmly, extending her hand.
Hamza smiled and took her hand gently. "Wa alaykum as-salam, aunty. It's so good to see you." His voice was sincere, and the faintest flicker of relief passed through his eyes.
Fatima, still in Aaliya's arms, looked up at her grandmother and gave a shy smile. "Nani!" she called out, reaching her arms toward Miss Muneera.
Miss Muneera bent down, embracing the little girl warmly. "My sweetheart, we're here now," she whispered. "Everything will be okay."
After a few more moments of hugs and greetings, Hamza gently ushered them toward the exit. "Come, let's go home. Fatima has been counting the days to see you."
Aaliya carried Fatima in her arms as they made their way to the car, while Hamza took care of the luggage. On the drive home, Fatima sat comfortably on Aaliya's lap, her small arms wrapped around her aunt's neck, a smile finally brightening her face—a rare sight since Aliza's passing.
The journey to Hamza's house was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence, filled with the promise of love and support. The family arrived at the house, where the familiar warmth of a home awaited them.
As they stepped inside, Aaliya set Fatima down on the living room sofa, brushing her niece's hair affectionately. "It's so good to be here," she said softly, looking at Hamza and Miss Muneera.
Hamza nodded, his eyes reflecting gratitude. "We're a family, and we'll get through this together."
Fatima snuggled close to Aaliya on the sofa, her little hand resting in her aunt's. For the first time in what felt like forever, the house felt a little more like home—like a place where healing could finally begin.
Scene: A Dinner of Silent Promises
That evening, the family gathered around the dining table for dinner. The warm glow of the chandelier bathed the room in a soft light, creating a comforting atmosphere. Plates were passed around, and soft clinks of cutlery echoed gently.
For the first time in months, there was a faint sense of normalcy. Little smiles appeared across everyone's faces, though the memories of Aliza lingered in their hearts. Fatima sat beside Hamza, her small hands resting in her lap, quietly observing the people she loved.
She glanced at her father, watching closely as he tried to keep the conversation light for everyone's sake. His eyes, though, betrayed him. There was a flicker of sadness in them—a sorrow he hid beneath the surface. Hamza chuckled softly at one of Aaliya's jokes, but Fatima saw it—the weight behind that smile, the pain he carried for Aliza.
In her young heart, Fatima understood more than anyone realized. She knew her father was missing her mother deeply, even though he masked it with gentle words and fleeting smiles. It wasn't just grief; it was a void that nothing could fill. Yet he was staying strong for her—for them.
As she looked at him, a resolve grew within her. "I will be strong," she thought silently, clutching the hem of her dress. "I want to be brave, just like Mama. I will live, not just for me, but for Baba."
Hamza noticed her gaze and smiled down at her. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked softly, brushing a few strands of hair from her face.
Fatima shook her head with a small smile. "Nothing, Baba," she whispered. But deep inside, she made a silent promise—to carry her mother's courage and strength in her little heart, and to be her father's source of light in the dark days ahead.
Miss Muneera and Aaliya exchanged glances, grateful for this moment of unity after so much sorrow. They knew healing would take time, but this small step—dining together as a family—was a start.
The room fell into a gentle rhythm of quiet conversations, occasional laughter, and shared memories. The warmth of the meal, and the love between them, wrapped them in a comfort they hadn't felt in a long time.
Fatima looked around the table, her heart filling with a mix of sadness and hope. With every bite, every smile, and every word, she knew: life would never be the same without Mama. But as long as they had each other, they could keep moving forward—just like Mama would have wanted.
And in that moment, surrounded by love, Fatima decided: I will live brave. For Baba. And for Mama too.
Scene: A Father's Silent Resolve
After the weekend passed, Hamza sat alone in his office, his mind drifting from the pile of papers on his desk to thoughts of Fatima. He leaned back in his chair, staring out of the window at the bustling city, but his heart was elsewhere—lost in the weight of his daughter's unspoken pain.
Her behavior had changed since that tragic night. Though she tried to smile and act brave, Hamza could sense the sadness that clung to her like a shadow. There were moments when she was too quiet, lost in her thoughts, as if carrying burdens far too heavy for her tender age. It hurt him to see her this way, knowing she was trying to be strong, yet struggling deep inside.
"She needs help," he whispered to himself. "Someone who can reach the parts of her that I can't."
The thought troubled him, but he knew this was beyond what love alone could heal. He couldn't let her carry the trauma in silence. She needed a guiding hand—a professional who could help her process what she'd been through and find peace again.
With a deep sigh, Hamza picked up his phone and scrolled through contacts. After a few moments, he found the number of the city's top child psychiatrist. He hesitated only briefly, then dialed the number.
The call was answered on the first ring.
"Dr. Sana's office, how may I help you?"
Hamza cleared his throat, steadying his voice. "This is Hamza Khan. I'd like to make an appointment for my daughter, Fatima. It's... it's urgent."
The receptionist responded with calm efficiency, checking the schedule. "We can book a session for Thursday morning at 10 AM. Would that work?"
Hamza nodded, though the other person couldn't see him. "Yes, that's perfect. Thank you."
After the call ended, he sat back in his chair, exhaling slowly. It was a small step, but an important one. He would do everything in his power to ensure Fatima didn't carry the weight of grief and fear alone.
His phone screen dimmed, reflecting his own weary face. "I'll help you heal, my love," he whispered, as if speaking directly to his daughter. "Just like Mama would have wanted."
For the first time in a long while, Hamza felt a glimmer of hope.
Scene: A Step Towards Healing
The next morning, Hamza gently approached Fatima, who was sitting by the window, hugging her favorite stuffed toy. She stared silently at the sky, lost in her thoughts, the weight of everything she had endured reflected in her young eyes.
Hamza sat beside her, brushing a lock of her hair aside. "Sweetheart," he began softly, "I want to talk to you about something important."
Fatima looked up at him, her small face solemn.
"We're going to see someone today—a very kind doctor named Dr. Sana," Hamza continued. "She helps children who feel sad, worried, or confused, just like you've been feeling. It's okay if you don't feel like talking much right now, but I'll be with you the whole time."
Fatima clutched her toy tighter. "Will she ask me about Mama?" she whispered hesitantly.
Hamza's heart sank, but he smiled gently, keeping his voice calm. "Only if you want to talk about her. Dr. Sana is there to listen to you, not make you say things you're not ready for."
Fatima nodded slowly. "Okay, Baba."
Hamza kissed the top of her head. "You're so brave, my little warrior. Just like Mama."
---
Scene: The First Session
Later that morning, Hamza and Fatima arrived at Dr. Sana's clinic. It was a warm and welcoming space, with colorful drawings on the walls and soft chairs that made it feel less like a doctor's office and more like a friendly home.
Dr. Sana greeted them with a warm smile. She was a gentle woman in her mid-forties, with kind eyes and an aura of calmness. "Hello, Fatima," she said softly, crouching to Fatima's level. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. How are you feeling today?"
Fatima looked up at Hamza for reassurance. He gave her a nod and smiled. "It's okay, sweetheart. You can tell her whatever you feel."
Fatima gave a small, shy nod. "I... I'm okay."
Dr. Sana led them to a cozy room filled with toys, drawing materials, and cushions. "We'll start slow, Fatima. There's no rush. You can play with anything you like, and if you feel like talking, I'm here to listen."
Fatima hesitated, then slowly picked up a stuffed rabbit from the toy shelf. She hugged it close as if it were her shield, glancing occasionally at Hamza.
Dr. Sana sat down nearby, giving her space. "This is your time, Fatima. You're safe here."
As the session progressed, Fatima remained quiet but visibly relaxed in the room's soothing environment. Hamza watched with hope, knowing that it was just the beginning of a long journey toward healing.
When the session ended, Dr. Sana smiled reassuringly at Hamza. "She did well for her first time. With time, we'll help her open up at her own pace."
Hamza thanked her, holding Fatima's hand as they left the clinic. "How are you feeling now, sweetheart?" he asked as they walked toward the car.
Fatima gave him a small, tentative smile. "I think I like Dr. Sana, Baba."
Hamza's heart swelled with relief. "I'm glad, my love. We'll go back whenever you feel ready."
As they drove home, Hamza glanced at his daughter in the rearview mirror. For the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of light in her eyes. It wasn't much, but it was a start—and that was enough for now.
Scene: A Step Towards Healing
The next morning, Hamza gently approached Fatima, who was sitting by the window, hugging her favorite stuffed toy. She stared silently at the sky, lost in her thoughts, the weight of everything she had endured reflected in her young eyes.
Hamza sat beside her, brushing a lock of her hair aside. "Sweetheart," he began softly, "I want to talk to you about something important."
Fatima looked up at him, her small face solemn.
"We're going to see someone today—a very kind doctor named Dr. Sana," Hamza continued. "She helps children who feel sad, worried, or confused, just like you've been feeling. It's okay if you don't feel like talking much right now, but I'll be with you the whole time."
Fatima clutched her toy tighter. "Will she ask me about Mama?" she whispered hesitantly.
Hamza's heart sank, but he smiled gently, keeping his voice calm. "Only if you want to talk about her. Dr. Sana is there to listen to you, not make you say things you're not ready for."
Fatima nodded slowly. "Okay, Baba."
Hamza kissed the top of her head. "You're so brave, my little warrior. Just like Mama."
---
Scene: The First Session
Later that morning, Hamza and Fatima arrived at Dr. Sana's clinic. It was a warm and welcoming space, with colorful drawings on the walls and soft chairs that made it feel less like a doctor's office and more like a friendly home.
Dr. Sana greeted them with a warm smile. She was a gentle woman in her mid-forties, with kind eyes and an aura of calmness. "Hello, Fatima," she said softly, crouching to Fatima's level. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. How are you feeling today?"
Fatima looked up at Hamza for reassurance. He gave her a nod and smiled. "It's okay, sweetheart. You can tell her whatever you feel."
Fatima gave a small, shy nod. "I... I'm okay."
Dr. Sana led them to a cozy room filled with toys, drawing materials, and cushions. "We'll start slow, Fatima. There's no rush. You can play with anything you like, and if you feel like talking, I'm here to listen."
Fatima hesitated, then slowly picked up a stuffed rabbit from the toy shelf. She hugged it close as if it were her shield, glancing occasionally at Hamza.
Dr. Sana sat down nearby, giving her space. "This is your time, Fatima. You're safe here."
As the session progressed, Fatima remained quiet but visibly relaxed in the room's soothing environment. Hamza watched with hope, knowing that it was just the beginning of a long journey toward healing.
When the session ended, Dr. Sana smiled reassuringly at Hamza. "She did well for her first time. With time, we'll help her open up at her own pace."
Hamza thanked her, holding Fatima's hand as they left the clinic. "How are you feeling now, sweetheart?" he asked as they walked toward the car.
Fatima gave him a small, tentative smile. "I think I like Dr. Sana, Baba."
Hamza's heart swelled with relief. "I'm glad, my love. We'll go back whenever you feel ready."
As they drove home, Hamza glanced at his daughter in the rearview mirror. For the first time in a long while, there was a flicker of light in her eyes. It wasn't much, but it was a start—and that was enough for now.
Scene: Fatima's Second Session with Dr. Sana
The sun streamed through the large windows of Dr. Sana's clinic, casting a warm glow on the walls filled with colorful artwork. Fatima sat in her usual spot, a small table covered in art supplies in front of her. Dr. Sana smiled reassuringly as she entered the room, a notepad tucked under her arm.
"Good morning, Fatima! How are you feeling today?" Dr. Sana asked, taking a seat across from her.
"Good," Fatima replied softly, her fingers nervously tapping on the table.
"I thought we could spend today expressing some of your feelings through art," Dr. Sana suggested. "Would you like that?"
Fatima nodded, her eyes lighting up slightly. "Okay!" she said, her enthusiasm rising as she glanced at the array of colored pencils and blank sheets of paper.
"Let's start with a drawing of whatever comes to your mind," Dr. Sana encouraged, handing Fatima a piece of paper. "No pressure, just draw what you feel."
Fatima picked up a pencil and began to sketch. As she drew, images began to take form—each one representing a fragment of that fateful day.
Drawing 1: The Bedroom Window
Fatima drew herself peering out of the bedroom window, her face reflecting confusion and fear. The outline of her mother was faintly visible, running toward the living room.
"Tell me about this one," Dr. Sana said, leaning in to examine the drawing.
"I saw Mama run," Fatima whispered, her voice trembling. "I wanted to help her."
Drawing 2: The Knife
Next, Fatima sketched a menacing figure holding a knife, its blade glinting ominously. She shivered as she recalled the image.
"That looks scary, Fatima. What do you think that represents?" Dr. Sana asked gently.
"It's him," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "He hurt Mama."
Drawing 3: The Acid Bottle
In her third drawing, Fatima illustrated a spilled bottle, the contents seeping across the paper. She drew her mother's figure in the background, a sense of urgency in her posture.
"I remember that bottle," Fatima said, her brow furrowing. "It fell, and I thought it would hurt her."
Dr. Sana nodded, encouraging her to continue. "You're doing really well. It's important to express these feelings."
Drawing 4: The Living Room
Fatima depicted the living room, filled with shadows and chaos. The furniture was scattered, symbolizing the turmoil of that day. She added a little figure of herself in the corner, watching in horror.
"I was so scared," Fatima said, her voice breaking. "I didn't know what to do."
Drawing 5: The Cry for Help
In this drawing, Fatima illustrated her mother shouting, her hands raised as if pleading for help. Tears welled in Fatima's eyes as she recalled the sound of her mother's voice, filled with desperation.
"I wanted to scream too," Fatima confessed, wiping away a tear. "But I was too scared."
Drawing 6: A Ray of Hope
Finally, Fatima created a drawing filled with bright colors, depicting her family together with smiles and love. It contrasted sharply with the previous images, representing her desire for healing and happiness.
"This one is beautiful, Fatima," Dr. Sana praised, her heart swelling with hope. "What does this drawing mean to you?"
"It's how I want things to be," Fatima said, a small smile breaking through. "I want to be happy again."
Dr. Sana smiled warmly. "And we will work together to get there. It's okay to feel sad, but it's also important to hold onto hope."
As the session came to a close, Fatima felt lighter, the act of drawing allowing her to process her emotions. She realized that while the memories were painful, she could also create new ones filled with love and joy.
"Thank you, Dr. Sana," Fatima said, her heart feeling a little bit fuller.
"You're very welcome, Fatima. I'm proud of you," Dr. Sana replied, her voice soothing as they wrapped up the session. "Remember, it's okay to share how you feel, and we'll keep working on this together."
With a newfound sense of purpose, Fatima left the clinic, clutching her drawings tightly—a tangible representation of her journey toward healing.
Scene: Second Session with Dr. Sana
A few days later, Hamza and Fatima returned to Dr. Sana's clinic for her second session. Fatima held her father's hand tightly, but this time she wasn't as anxious. There was a faint glimmer of curiosity on her face, though her grip on her stuffed toy rabbit showed she was still navigating her emotions.
Inside the cozy therapy room, Dr. Sana welcomed them with her usual gentle smile. "Hello again, Fatima. It's good to see you."
Fatima gave a small nod, her eyes scanning the familiar toys and art supplies. Hamza gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before taking a seat nearby.
Dr. Sana sat cross-legged on a cushion, keeping her tone soft and inviting. "How are you feeling today, Fatima? Is there anything you'd like to do or talk about?"
Fatima hesitated for a moment, then picked up a box of crayons. "I want to draw," she whispered, glancing briefly at Dr. Sana.
"That's a wonderful idea," Dr. Sana said warmly, handing her a sheet of paper. "You can draw anything you like, and if you want, you can tell me about it when you're done."
Fatima sat cross-legged on the floor, placing the paper in front of her. Slowly, she began to draw—a house with windows, a garden, and a small figure standing by the window. As she added more details, her brow furrowed with concentration, her small hands gripping the crayons tightly.
When the drawing was done, Fatima stared at it quietly. Dr. Sana waited patiently, giving her space.
After a moment, Fatima whispered, "That's Mama... by the window. And that's me inside."
Hamza shifted slightly in his seat, his heart tightening at the sight of his daughter confronting her memories so directly.
"You drew your Mama very beautifully," Dr. Sana said gently, sitting beside Fatima. "Can you tell me what you were thinking while you drew this?"
Fatima's voice was barely audible, but her words were filled with the weight of her experience. "I woke up... and saw her run to the other room. Then... then he came."
Dr. Sana gave her a moment before responding softly. "That must have been really scary for you, Fatima."
Fatima nodded, clutching her toy rabbit tightly. "I wanted to help, but I didn't know what to do... I just watched."
Hamza leaned forward, his voice filled with love. "Sweetheart, it wasn't your fault. You were very brave, even if it didn't feel like it."
Tears welled up in Fatima's eyes as she whispered, "I miss Mama."
Dr. Sana gently placed a hand on Fatima's shoulder. "It's okay to miss her, Fatima. You loved her very much, and it's natural to feel sad. But remember, your Mama would want you to be strong and happy too, just like she was."
Fatima wiped her tears with her sleeve and looked up at Hamza. "I'll try, Baba. For Mama."
Hamza hugged her close, kissing the top of her head. "That's my brave girl."
---
Scene: Healing in Progress
At the end of the session, Dr. Sana smiled at Hamza. "She's starting to open up. This is a good sign. We'll keep building from here, step by step."
Hamza thanked her with deep gratitude, holding Fatima's hand as they left the clinic. In the car, Hamza glanced at his daughter and noticed something different—a quiet determination in her little face.
For the first time in a while, it felt like a small piece of the heavy burden she carried had been lifted. There was still a long way to go, but Hamza knew that, with time and love, they would find their way through this darkness together.
Fatima leaned her head against his arm. "Can we go to Mama's favorite park today, Baba?"
Hamza smiled, his heart both aching and hopeful. "Of course, sweetheart. We'll go together."
And as they drove away, the sun outside shone a little brighter, signaling the beginning of a slow but steady journey toward healing.
Scene: Final Session with Dr. Sana
A few weeks later, Hamza and Fatima arrived at Dr. Sana's clinic for what would be their final scheduled session. Fatima had grown noticeably calmer since their first meeting. Though the sadness remained, there was a new light in her eyes—one born from acceptance and resilience.
Dr. Sana welcomed them warmly, sitting across from Fatima on the colorful mat. "Hello, Fatima. I've really enjoyed spending time with you these past weeks."
Fatima smiled shyly, sitting next to her father. She still held her stuffed rabbit, but it wasn't clenched tightly like before.
"Do you remember what we talked about in our last session?" Dr. Sana asked.
Fatima nodded. "We talked about being brave... and how Mama wants me to live happily."
Dr. Sana leaned forward slightly. "That's right. You've done an incredible job, Fatima. Today, I thought we could talk about something special—how you can carry your Mama with you, even though she's not here."
Fatima tilted her head curiously. "Carry Mama? But how?"
Dr. Sana smiled warmly. "By remembering her in your heart. You see, the people we love never really leave us. They live on in the way we smile, the way we care for others, and in the things they taught us."
Fatima was quiet for a moment, absorbing Dr. Sana's words. Then she whispered, "Mama always told me to help Baba. She said we should take care of each other."
Hamza's throat tightened with emotion, but he kept his composure, gently running his hand through his daughter's hair.
"That's a beautiful way to honor her," Dr. Sana said gently. "And whenever you feel sad, remember—your Baba is here, and so am I, to help you."
Fatima gave a small but meaningful nod. "I'll try to make Baba happy too."
---
Scene: Parting Words and New Beginnings
As the session wrapped up, Dr. Sana leaned forward, placing her hand lightly on Fatima's shoulder. "You are one of the bravest little girls I've ever met, Fatima. You've been through a lot, but you've also shown so much strength."
Fatima looked at her father, and for the first time in a long while, there was a hint of peace on her face. "Thank you, Dr. Sana," she said softly.
Dr. Sana gave her a warm smile. "Remember, you're always welcome here. But I think you and your Baba are ready for the next part of your journey—together."
Hamza stood up and shook Dr. Sana's hand. "Thank you for everything, doctor. I don't know how we could have made it this far without you."
"You both did the hard part," Dr. Sana replied. "Take it one day at a time. You've got each other, and that's what matters most."
Hamza picked Fatima up in his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. As they left the clinic, the weight of their grief didn't feel as crushing anymore. There was still sadness, but also a growing sense of hope.
---
Scene: A New Chapter Begins
On the drive home, Fatima looked out the window at the world passing by. "Baba, can we plant flowers in the garden like Mama used to? I think she'd like that."
Hamza smiled, his heart swelling with pride and sorrow all at once. "Of course, sweetheart. We'll plant as many flowers as you want."
Fatima smiled—a real, joyful smile that Hamza hadn't seen in a long time. And in that moment, he knew they were finally on the path to healing.
With the memory of Aliza in their hearts, they would face the future together—one day, one flower at a time.