The afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the Khalique residence, casting warm golden light across the living room. Balloons swayed lazily from the ceiling, and the scent of freshly baked cupcakes lingered in the air.
Faraz and Arwa sat on a plush carpet near the staircase, their knees tucked under them, surrounded by a scattered array of toys and colorful ribbons. Faraz leaned closer, lowering his voice as though revealing a great secret.
"Arwa…" he whispered, glancing around to make sure no adult could overhear, "my family… we're going to leave the city soon."
Arwa's eyes widened. "Leave? But… what about the school? And… and all the fun?"
Faraz shrugged, a small frown creasing his forehead. "I don't know. Baba says it's for the business. Big things… far away. But I… I don't want to go." He kicked a balloon gently, sending it rolling toward Arwa.
Arwa's little hand shot out to stop it, their fingers brushing again. "Then… we have to make a promise," she said seriously, her childlike sincerity shining through. "No matter where you go, we… we have to stay friends. Always."
Faraz nodded solemnly, puffing out his chest like a small knight. "Promise. Forever."
A soft murmur of laughter drifted from the terrace, where the grandparents were talking, their voices warm and familiar. Zafar Raza Khalique leaned back in his chair, enjoying the sunshine on his face, while Alfaaz Siddiqui, though older and frail, chuckled heartily at a small anecdote Zafar was recounting.
"Your grandchildren are growing up fast," Alfaaz said, shaking his head with a gentle smile. "I remember when Arwa used to run around the garden, picking flowers for everyone."
Zafar's eyes twinkled. "And Faraz would try to snatch them away! Those two have always been inseparable in their own little ways."
Nearby, Ariz Raza Khalique, Faraz's father, adjusted his cufflinks as he spoke to Shahid Siddiqui, Arwa's father, with respect and warmth. "Brother, you must allow me to invite Arwa often before we leave. She's part of Faraz's world now. I want him to have her by his side, at least for these last months."
Shahid smiled, his eyes reflecting trust and familial respect. "Of course, Ariz. You've always treated me like a younger brother, and I know Faraz is in good hands. He'll need all the guidance—and friendship he can get."
Back on the carpet, Faraz whispered, "Arwa… I'll miss all this. Our games… the cake… everything."
Arwa reached out and held both his hands in hers. "Then we'll make it count today. And… when you go, we'll write letters. And call. And… and nothing will change, okay?"
Faraz's smile returned, small but certain. "Okay. Nothing will change. Ever."
From the terrace, Zafar and Alfaaz exchanged a quiet glance. They didn't need to speak aloud—their hearts already understood. The bond between the children mirrored the bond between the elders: a connection that spanned generations, built on trust, love, and mutual respect.
And as the laughter of children filled the room, the adults watched with quiet pride, knowing that some ties—whether of friendship, family, or love—are simply unbreakable.