A month later, an email arrived from Aurora Communications, Seoul, Korea. My hands trembled as I opened it. Tears welled up in my eyes. I got the job. Marketing Manager. I couldn't believe it.
I immediately grabbed my phone and sent a screenshot to Fatima before calling her, my heart racing with excitement.
"OMGGGG!!! Broooooo! I got an email from Aurora Communications! They're going to hire me as a Marketing Manager!" I shouted.
"Tell me I'm not dreaming!" I added, almost unable to breathe.
"WAITTTT?!?!? REALLY?? Lemme see the screenshot!" Fatima shrieked into the phone, her voice echoing my own excitement.
And then… silence.
"BUT… Hannah?!" Fatima's tone shifted suddenly. Her voice trembled.
"What happened? Tell me! You're scaring me!" I asked, my heart sinking.
"In… TEN DAYS??" Fatima gasped. "Are you kidding me? This isn't a joke! Hannah, ten days?! You have to leave for Korea in ten days! We don't even know when you'll come back!" Her voice cracked, tears spilling over.
And then I heard it.
"KHALA…"
A small, trembling voice, full of pain and disappointment. I already knew this day would come, but hearing it still made my chest tighten.
"Amna, it's not like that…" I whispered, my own throat catching.
"Khala, you told me you'd never leave me! You'd always stay by my side… Now why are you leaving me? When will you come back? What about my graduation? What about my birthdays? Have I done something wrong? Hannah Khala, tell me! I'm so sorry if I've upset you!"
Her tiny body shook with sobs, and her innocent, teary eyes pierced me straight through. I went to pick her up—but she refused.
I knelt down, held her little hands in mine, and spoke slowly, hoping she would understand.
"Amna… Khala loves you, right? And you trust your Khala, right? Khala always keeps her promises. Okay? I promise I'll visit you on your birthday every year. When you get great results, I'll come to celebrate. After I go to Korea, I'll visit after 2 or 3 months, and I'll take you there—I promise. You can stay for 10 or 12 days, okay? Trust your Khala. Don't tell anyone yet; I'll explain everything tomorrow. Whenever you ask me to visit, I will come—but not every month, okay?"
She sniffled, trying to stop crying. "Khala… Dad promised me this too when he went abroad. But he only visits once a year. I don't want you to go far away…"
I hugged her tightly. "It's late, dear. Let's sleep. I'll tell you everything tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay, Khala," she whispered, her little voice shaky. I carried her to bed, tucking her in gently.
After she fell asleep, I sent another text to Fatima, promising I would help her find a job in Korea. Once I was settled, I would call her to join me. She understood perfectly.
The next day, the real challenge awaited: my narrow-minded family.
"Marketing in Korea? Hannah, are you serious? You can't just leave like this!" my mother exclaimed, hands on her hips.
"It's a good opportunity, Mom" I tried calmly. "It's a job in my field, a chance to grow, to build a career. I need this."
"They won't know you there! Who will care for you?" my father added sternly.
"I'll manage. Fatima will be with me too," I said firmly. "I'm not a child anymore. I need to live my life. I will visit Amna often, call her every day, and come home whenever I can."
They exchanged glances, frustration written on their faces. I held my ground. "I've worked hard for this. You've raised me to be independent—I'm just taking the next step. Please trust me. You guys never trusted me. Can you please trust me this time? It was my dream since I was a kid."
It took long hours of discussion, their sighs, their threats, and my repeated promises—but eventually, my parents relented. My father grumbled, "Fine… but you better not forget your roots."
I smiled, relief washing over me. "I never will. And I promise, I'll make you proud."
Those ten days were the happiest of my life. It felt like happiness was poured into every corner of my world, and I knew deep down I would never feel that kind of joy again. I spent my mornings going out with Fatima—shopping, eating, laughing until our stomachs hurt and our eyes watered. At night, Amna would never leave my side. Normally she had to go back to her own home, but in those ten days, she insisted on staying with me. She slept in my bed, ate with me, followed me everywhere, always holding onto my hand as if her life depended on it.
One evening, as I sat in the living room, I asked her softly, "Amna, we're just sitting here at home… why are you still holding my hand so tightly?"
She looked up at me with her big, innocent eyes and whispered, "Khala… I don't know when I'll be able to hold your hand again. I want to feel the warmth now… so I won't forget it later."
Hearing those words from a six-year-old broke me into pieces. My heart ached in a way I couldn't explain. I wanted to freeze time. Why was I being forced to see her like this—so small, so fragile, yet speaking like someone who had seen the world's pain?
And then… the last night in Pakistan came. My bags lay open on the bed, half-packed. Fatima was sitting cross-legged on the floor, folding my clothes and handing them to me. We tried to keep things light. I told her, "You know I'll miss you more than anyone else… but I'll miss something even more."
Her face fell, eyes wide. "What? WHAT is it?" she demanded, almost hurt.
"Biryani," I said with a fake serious face.
The next second, I was hit with a pillow. "You witch!!!" Fatima yelled, attacking me with full force. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, tears rolling down my cheeks.
"If you make another best friend there, I SWEAR I will kill you. You'll be dead meat!" she threatened, her voice breaking even though she tried to sound angry.
I smirked through my tears. "Maybe I should make a best friend… at least then you'll fly to Korea just to meet me."
We both laughed, but suddenly the room grew quiet. The kind of silence that wasn't peaceful but heavy, pressing on our chests. Fatima looked at me with watery eyes.
"You'll never forget me… right? You'll call me every day? Even if you're busy, I don't care, you can call me for just a minute. Don't you dare think you're alone there. You have me. Always."
I reached for her hand, my voice trembling. "Fatima… you know I have no one else except you. You're my family as much as anyone. Brother, I'll be eating your brain even from miles away. You'll beg me to shut up but I'll keep talking! Thousands of people will come into my life but none—NONE—can take your place. But you… promise me one thing. Whenever Amna comes to Lahore, please stay with her. Take care of her, tell her stories about me… because I'll call her daily but STILL—she needs someone near."
We were both crying silently, throats blocked, our hearts drowning in those unspoken words.
"BITCH," Fatima whispered through her tears, "go to sleep. Your flight is tomorrow evening. Come on, lie down."
That night, I lay in the middle of the bed. Amna curled into me on my right, Fatima clung to my left. We whispered in the dark, our voices hushed, sharing secrets, promises, and half-laughs between tears. I don't even remember when sleep took over… but when I woke up, it was already the day.
The day of departure felt unreal. My house was filled with people—relatives, neighbors, my sisters running around trying not to cry, my parents sitting quietly with pride and sadness mixed in their eyes. Everyone kept telling me "Mubarak ho" but their voices carried the weight of goodbye.
Amna refused to leave my side. She held onto my so tightly that at one point I almost tripped. "Khala, don't go… please, don't go," she whispered again and again.
At the airport, everything blurred. The sound of trolleys rolling, the announcements echoing through the terminal, people hugging and crying everywhere—it all felt like a movie. But my movie was too real.
My father hugged me first. His hug was firm, proud, but I felt the hesitation in his hands. "Make us proud, beti," he said, voice low but steady. My mother couldn't say much—her tears said everything. She cupped my face, kissed my forehead.
My sisters were crying openly. "You'll forget us!" they shouted half-jokingly, but I could see the pain behind their smiles. I promised them video calls, care packages, and long gossip sessions—even from across oceans.
Then came Fatima. The moment I saw her, we both broke. She hugged me so tight that I could barely breathe. "Remember what I said," she whispered into my ear. "I don't care where you are, who you're with, you call me first. Always."
I pulled back, wiped her tears, and forced a smile. "If I don't, you can fly to Korea and beat me up with that same pillow." We both laughed through our tears, but the laughter didn't last long.
Finally… Amna. She was holding my hand so tight that her little fingers turned red. Her eyes—oh, her eyes were full of oceans. "Khala… please don't go. Please, I'll be good, I'll do everything you say, just don't go."
My heart shattered. I knelt down to her level, held her face in my hands, and kissed her forehead. "Amna, you're my heartbeat. And heartbeats don't go away, they stay inside. I'll come for your birthday, I'll be there when you graduate, I'll never miss your big moments. I promise."
She cried harder, shaking her head. "But Khala… Dad said the same thing, and he comes only once a year."
That broke me completely. Tears streamed down my face as I hugged her tight. "I'm not your Papa. I'm your Khala. And you know I always keep my promises."
When it was finally time to go, I turned back one last time. My family stood there, Fatima waving with her tear-streaked face, Amna clutching my dupatta that I had to gently pull away from her little hand. The sight blurred before my eyes.
And then… I walked through those gates. Leaving behind the life I knew, stepping into a new world.