The Silence in My Song

A Child, I Am Not (But I Feel Like One Anyway)

Atif is forty two. Four full decades and a couple of years more, he could be justified in saying he had spent a long time in this world. Long enough time to lose the child that he was behind. Even the naivety of youth had faded. He was old. Not very sure. But old, in a way he liked. He liked the way things were slow for him now. He likes to have fun sure, but he likes how his brain knows not to think too much now. He hadn't been a child in a long long time, and... he liked it. Not that his childhood hadn't been good but just... this was better.

He had left that child behind.

Or so he thought.

Dawn was just about to break when they landed in Lahore. Atif offers Fajr in the airport provided prayer room as quickly as he can. It is not like him to rush through a prayer. Prayers aren't supposed to be rushed. But he wants to get home as soon as he possibly can. Some time during the flight, his mind had stopped working. This couldn't be real. Abu couldn't actually be gone. That wouldn't just happen. He had gotten a few health scares before but Atif had been taking care of him these past few months. He had looked a little weak when Atif had left for Karachi-but surely. Surely it doesn't happen just like that. Not just like that. He has to get home to Abu and see for himself. He may be going crazy but he needs to see for himself. It is not like him to be so... silly, so childish- why would Omer lie, why would anyone tell Omer his Abu is dead- they wouldn't. He knows that... but he doesn't. It's not like him to not believe them but he doesn't believe. It is not like him to rush but he rushes anyway, walking as briskly as he can through the airport.

"Atif," Omer calls worriedly after him, half jogging after him.

"If you are going to say the same thing you have said fifty times already Omer, I would advice you to not waste your breath," he says flatly. He was being a little rude. He knew. He did not like it either. But his mind was fraying. He did not want anyone to look at it right now. He was barely holding it up, even a single kind word would do him in... and there were people here. It made his skin crawl though hardly anyone was paying any attention- he was walking too fast, it was far too early in the morning.

"Atif please, listen!".

Atif was forced to stop. Not because of Omer. He would have listened any other time. Literally any other time- Omer wasn't an Aslam but he was one of Atif's elder brothers just as much as the other three were. He would have listened any other time. The only reason he did stop was because they had reached the car park and he couldn't remember if Omer had told him which one would be there to pick them up.

Taking advantage of the break, Omer quickly got infront of him, "Listen-"

Atif exhales harshly, trying to keep himself from snapping. His heart was trembling, this man needed to stop with it already, "Omer-"

"No listen. Atif this is worrying me! You haven't said a word-"

"Omer we can do this at home-"

"Atif it has been hours!!" Omer snaps at him.

It shocks his system into shutting up, momentarily even his heart stops fluttering so weakly in his chest. Omer never snaps at him.

He looks at his friend. He was aware that Omer was referring to something else when talking about hours, but ... it has been hours since he had looked at Omer despite traveling together, being side by side for every second in the past few hours. Omer looks terrible. His eyes look sunken in, grief clearly marks every inch of his face, it is very obvious that he had cried some time ago... maybe during the flight. Atif had been right beside him... he hadn't even heard his friend- the very best friend anyone could ever ask for- cry.

His jaw clenches and he looks away.

"Atif-" Omer's voice softens. It's unbearable. It makes his eyes sting. He can't. Not-not until he has seen with his own eyes. He knows it's illogical, but he can't!