‌Maniyya

I found my parents aged almost beyond recognition on my return.

Mother held on to me and trembled without cease. Father’s thin, dark face was tense with insomnia. He said he could no longer carry on with the storytelling: his heart was not in it.

He said: Zahra is now beyond our world, but her spirit will always remain with us.

I said: Yes, Father.

But what about you, my son? We watch you, as from a distance, helpless. This sorrow is like a shadow in our hearts.

I said: Don’t worry about me.

Everything is up to fate, Hassan, and death is nothing but the end that fate prescribes.

I said: I know, Father.

Mother said: Zahra is now in a much better place than this. She was too good for this world.

I said: I know, Mother.

She said: We grieve for you. We don’t know what to do.

I said: Give it a little time, Mother.

We must leave it up to God, Father said. It is His will. Everything has a reason and a purpose.

What about my stillborn son, Father?

He lowered his head and remained silent.