Lost In Paradise

Chapter 2

***

Malik always hated the cold.

Not that there wasn't anything to love about it, but he was just a cynic like that. He hated the whistling that always accompanied the cold winds, keeping him up at night. He hated the foggy mornings, when he'd sit in his car and stare in disgust at the cloudy skies.

But most of all, he hated the cold because it reminded him of his mother.

Every year, he dreaded the ending of the rainy season because he knew what came next. Those cold months at the end of the year always put him in a sour mood, and today was no different.

"Good morning, sir," the security guard greeted as he drove up to the gates. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

Malik grunted in response. He wasn't in the mood to indulge any conversation. He wasn't feeling particularly chatty, nor did he want to entertain any effort from anyone to cheer him up. This was the way things had to be, and he should be allowed to stew in his own misery for a bit.

Even after he parked, he waited for a while to try and calm himself. It was just another day. There was no need for him to get lost in his own head, to allow his own foul mood destroy what was otherwise a perfectly mundane day.

Except it wasn't just another ordinary day.

Today marked the twentieth year since his mother's disappearance, and he could hardly bring himself to believe it. It felt like yesterday, and he could still see her face in his mind if he concentrated hard enough, her warm smile which could cut through any dark cloud and instantly lift his mood. He could see the way she stretched out her hands to him, telling him everything would be okay.

"It's alright," she had said that fateful night before she left. "I just need you to trust me, Malik. Everything will turn out just fine."

That was the first time she had ever lied to him, and it had proven to be the last. He could still remember what happened afterwards, waking up on that fateful day and immediately noticing the silence which hung over the entire household, as if the angel of death was hovering above them.

The warmth that should have enveloped him was conspicuously absent, replaced by an unsettling void that seeped into the very fabric of his existence. Panic clenched at Malik's heart as he combed through the silent rooms of his childhood home, each one echoing the emptiness left in his mother's wake. Deep down, a part of him knew what was going on. He had seen the packed bags in the spare bedroom, and he had noticed the uneasy look on his mother's face the night before as she came to check on him. But he just didn't want to believe it.

Her room was empty when he walked in, all her clothes gone from the closet. Even the bedsheets were gone, as well as the pillows which she usually lined on her bed. It was as if no one had lived in the room in years, and every trace of his mother's existence had been wiped off the face of the earth.

Summoning every ounce of courage that remained in him, he approached his father, the air heavy with unspoken questions. His father didn't look up even as he entered the room, his back turned to him while he sipped his tea and stared out the window. The silence was pregnant with unsaid words, and for a while, Malik simply stood there and watched the back of his father's head.

"Where is she?" He asked, his voice carrying the desperation that echoed in his heart. His father's response was a cruel and empty silence, a wall of emotional distance that shattered Malik's hopes and left him grappling with the agony of the unknown.

"Baba, where is she?" He demanded once again, feeling as though the world was slipping out beneath him.

Again, he was met with nothing but silence.