Alim's father paced back and forth in their modest living room, his mind weighed down with questions. Just that morning, he'd seen his son getting into an expensive car. A mix of pride and worry settled over him, knowing Alim was now mingling with a world far different from their own.
His hand reached for his phone. He'd tried calling Alim twice but received no answer. The lack of response stirred memories of the distance that had grown between them over the years. Suddenly, he remembered Dr. Rohan, a former acquaintance of Alim's, who had once casually asked if they were related, hinting at Alim's progress and potential.
Taking a deep breath, Alim's father dialed Dr. Rohan's number. A few rings later, Dr. Rohan's warm voice came through.
"Hello, sir. This is Rohan speaking."
"Dr. Rohan... it's Alim's father," he said hesitantly, his voice a blend of pride and apprehension. "I... I wanted to ask about my son. I saw him leaving in a wealthy man's car today. Is he… doing well?"
Dr. Rohan chuckled, and there was a gentle fondness in his tone. "More than well, sir. Your son is becoming a name to be reckoned with. Just recently, he organized an event at the hospital that drew quite a crowd, and he's been showing skills that surprise even our senior doctors. People here respect him not just for his talent, but for his humble nature."
Alim's father's heart swelled with pride. "That's… that's wonderful to hear. It's just... he doesn't talk to me much about his work. I always knew he was special, but hearing it from someone else..."
There was a pause, a moment heavy with unspoken words, and Alim's father swallowed hard. "Thank you, Dr. Rohan. You've given me peace of mind. I think… I think I've underestimated how much he's grown."
After ending the call, a wave of mixed emotions washed over him. Joy for Alim's achievements and sorrow for the silence that lingered between them. Realizing he needed to hear more, he decided to call Vikram, Alim's closest friend.
Meanwhile, at Vikram's house, Alim was laughing, recounting stories from college, skillfully skirting around the details of his newfound abilities and the Namewave system. He leaned back on the couch, visibly enjoying the rare moment of relaxation.
Just then, Vikram's phone rang, flashing Alim's father's name on the screen.
"It's your dad," Vikram informed, glancing at Alim, who quickly masked his emotions.
"Put it on speaker," Alim replied, a touch of hesitation in his voice. "If he asks about me, just say I'm asleep."
Vikram nodded, pressing the speaker icon as he answered. "Hello, Uncle!"
"Hello, Vikram beta," Alim's father greeted, his voice warm yet slightly uncertain. "I… I wanted to ask if you've seen Alim lately. I tried calling him, but… I haven't been able to reach him."
"Yes, Uncle, he's here with me," Vikram replied, exchanging a quick glance with Alim. "But he's asleep right now."
"Oh, I see… asleep," Alim's father said, with a soft chuckle tinged with longing. "It's good he's getting rest. He… he works so hard, doesn't he?"
"Yes, Uncle. He's doing amazing things," Vikram assured gently. "You'd be so proud of him."
Alim's father paused, his voice turning tender. "I've always been proud of him. From the moment he was born, I knew he was meant for great things. It's just that... I regret not telling him that enough. I wish I could take back all the times I stayed silent."
Alim's expression softened, and he bit his lip, fighting back the emotions rising within him.
"I know he's been through a lot, Vikram," his father continued, his voice barely a whisper. "And I don't know if I've been the father he needed me to be. But I hope… I hope he knows I'm here for him, always."
Vikram nodded, his own voice softening. "Uncle, I promise I'll remind him of that. Alim knows you care about him deeply."
"Thank you, Vikram. And... please, when he wakes up, tell him his father called. Tell him... tell him I'm proud."
Alim's chest tightened, a tear slipping down his cheek as he listened to his father's words. The line went silent, and Vikram ended the call, watching Alim's expression with concern.
Wiping his face, Alim took a steadying breath, breaking the silence. "I need to go home tomorrow," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "There's something I've needed to say to him for a long time too."
The dawn light was barely touching the sky when Alim set out, driven by the deep ache of missing his father and a sudden need to bridge the silence that had grown between them. Arriving at his childhood home, he felt a surge of memories and a pang of longing. He rushed to the front door, heart pounding with urgency, and began knocking insistently, each beat carrying the weight of years gone by.
Inside, Alim's father stirred awake, startled by the loud banging. His first thought was that something terrible must have happened outside. Barefoot, he hurried to the door, swinging it open with a worried expression.
As soon as he saw his father's familiar face, Alim's emotions overwhelmed him. His face was already streaked with tears, his eyes red and glistening. Without a word, he stepped forward and embraced his father tightly, clutching onto him as if the world would fall apart if he let go.
"Alim?" his father's voice was low and filled with a mixture of surprise and confusion. For a moment, he stood stiff, attempting to hold onto the stoic mask he had worn for years. But as he felt his son's shoulders shake with each sob, his own heart softened. A tear slipped down his cheek as he wrapped his arms around Alim, pulling him close.
They stood there for a long time, two souls bound by love and separated by silence, now reunited in that wordless embrace.
Finally, Alim's father gently led him inside. They sat together on the worn-out couch in the living room, the familiar scent of home wrapping around them like a warm blanket. Alim's father placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, his voice breaking the quiet.
"You know," he began, his tone reflective, "I wasn't always as distant as I've been with you. I was young once too... in love and filled with dreams."
Alim looked up, surprised. His father had never spoken this way before, never shared such a glimpse into his own past.
"There's something you don't know about your mother, Alim," his father continued, his gaze drifting to a picture on the wall. "She was… special. She came from one of the wealthiest families in the city, the Mehra family. Their power, their status… it's hard to put into words, but they were among the top families. And she was their daughter, with everything she could ever need handed to her. But she was also brave, bold, and she loved beyond those barriers."
Alim listened intently, surprised by the revelation, feeling his heart swell with a mix of pride and pain.
"We met in college," his father said, smiling faintly. "She was always surrounded by friends, but there was something in her eyes that drew me to her. We became friends, spending days talking about everything and nothing. And, slowly, we fell in love. She was my light, Alim—my world. But when we decided to marry, her family disapproved, fiercely. To them, love wasn't enough to cross the boundaries of religion and wealth."
Alim's father paused, his voice thickening with emotion. "But she was strong. Stronger than I was. She left everything behind, her family, her wealth, and chose a life with me. We married, and for a while, we were truly happy, despite the struggles, despite the sacrifices. She made everything worth it."
A lump formed in Alim's throat, realizing that his mother's story mirrored his own journey, a journey of fighting odds, of resilience and courage.
His father's voice softened as he continued. "I wanted to give her everything she lost, everything she deserved. But life didn't let us have our fairytale ending for long. She fell ill soon after you were born, and… she left us. That's why I kept silent, why I kept pushing myself to be strong. For you. But in the end, I made a mistake. I should've shared all this with you long ago."
A silence settled between them, and Alim took a steadying breath before speaking. "Dad… thank you for telling me. I always wondered about her, about what made you so strong and… distant. But I need to tell you something too."
Alim's father listened, his face etched with concern as Alim recounted the events of that fateful day when lightning struck, forever changing the course of his life. He described the fear, the confusion, the sense of isolation, leaving out only the part about Namewave, his system. He spoke of the power and uncertainty that had taken hold of him, the feeling that he was somehow… different.
His father listened intently, never interrupting, his expression a mixture of awe and worry.
"After that day," Alim concluded, "everything changed. I've felt lost at times, Dad, but also… like I have a purpose, something greater that I'm meant to do. But I was afraid you wouldn't understand."
With a heavy sigh, his father reached over and placed a hand on Alim's shoulder. "You're my son, Alim. I may not understand everything that's happened to you, but I know one thing—you have a strength inside you, a strength that your mother had too. You were always meant for something extraordinary, and I've always known that. Just promise me one thing."
"What's that, Dad?"
"Promise me… that you'll remember you're not alone. No matter what comes, I'm here, and I'm proud of the man you've become. And I think… your mother would be proud too."
Alim felt a fresh wave of tears fill his eyes as he nodded, his father's words settling deep within him, offering a peace he hadn't felt in years. For the first time in a long while, he felt grounded, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, he had a family that loved him, a legacy that defined him, and a purpose worth fighting for.