Hidden Echoes

3. There are days of exception y'know?

๑ 🥀 ๑

Merely a piece of bread won't suffice for the impending exam, my dear," a woman in her mid-forties gently imparts, her fingers poised on the plate, ready to nourish him herself.

"No, Mother, I lack the appetite at the moment. Please, just offer your prayers for me," the young lad responds, securing his sling bag against his chest with a frustrated sigh. Seated on the divan in the drawing room, the tension in the atmosphere is palpable.

Could you manage one more bite, for my sake?" His mother beseeches, her eyes carrying an earnest plea. Her frail hand stretches out, tenderly presenting the morsel. He hesitates momentarily, then complies, conceding to her unspoken desire. Whether reluctantly or willingly, he could never resist his mother's heartfelt entreaties.

"I always hold you in my prayers, and I'm certain your father's blessings are alongside. Don't let the stress overwhelm you. Remember, this, like any other test, shall pass."

"But it's not just any test," he shivers, a subtle head shake punctuating his words. "Dad aspired to be a pilot, and he wished the same for me. Considering you also wish to keep me close, engineering in aeronautics remains the sole path ahead. Yet..." He hastily swallows the remaining food, his words lingering in the room, "This one opportunity stands as my homage to my father's aspirations. I cannot afford to falter."

"And falter, you shall not," she asserts, her conviction imbuing her words with strength. A fleeting smile graces his lips.

"Your confidence in me surpasses my own," he jests.

"Because I have witnessed the journey you have undertaken, my dear. I firmly believe that Allah acknowledges sincere endeavors. Your hard work shall yield its deserved rewards. You are destined for excellence."

Daniyal nods in response, as her words resonate within him. It feels comforting, logical even. Yes, he had studied not merely for the sake of his departed father's dreams, but for his hopeful mother's expectations and for his own future as well.

"I must leave now. Pray for me," he asserts, adjusting his bag's strap. Bending to press a tender kiss upon his mother's forehead, he softly utters, "I love you."

"Fee aman Allah," his mother imparts, her eyes never leaving his departing form. Tears blur her vision as she watches him disappear through the doorway.

Life appears agonizingly unfair. A mere nineteen-year-old lad shoulders the burden of his father's aspirations, even after the latter's departure from this realm. Yet, his father's memory continues to inspire him, a beacon guiding him through life's labyrinth.