"It's not fair."
The next two days weren't any easier for Abdullah or Ali.
They were still grieving, but life kept moving anyway. There was a flight to catch. Things to prepare. Their father stayed busy, trying to keep everything in order.
During the day, Abdullah did his best to distract himself. He watched try not to laugh videos and cartoons, forcing his mind to focus on anything else. For brief moments, his mood lifted.
Then the video buffered.
The screen froze, and suddenly the room felt eerily quiet.
Abdullah stared blankly at his device.
"The internet is so shit," he muttered.
A wave of cold washed over him. He pulled a blanket around himself, wrapping it tightly until warmth settled in. The feeling made something twist in his chest.
It reminded him of the past.
Of his grandmother hugging him tightly, holding him close.
"Nano… I need you," he whispered.
The tears came back. Slowly at first, then all at once. Still wrapped in the blanket's warmth, Abdullah cried until sleep finally took him.
Sometime later, they were about to land in Pakistan.
Abdullah already knew this trip would feel different. Awkward. Heavy.
"Beta, stay strong," his father said quietly. "For your family."
Abdullah nodded, though he wasn't sure how to do that.
Back at his grandparents' house, he stood silently, staring at the spot where his grandmother usually slept. His face was empty as he held back tears, repeating his father's words in his head.
Stay strong.
He looked around.
His uncles weren't crying. They looked distant, their expressions blank. His mother and Aunt Amira sobbed openly, barely able to stop. Most of his cousins moved quietly, their faces tense and unsure.
Then Abdullah noticed Abuji.
He hadn't cried either—but Abdullah could see it in his eyes. The unmistakable look of someone in grief.
That night, Ali slept beside Abuji. Abdullah wanted too as well.
"Can I sleep with you guys too?" he asked softly.
"NO, go away!" Ali snapped.
Abdullah didn't have the energy to care.
"Okay," he replied.
His parents and sisters slept together in one bed. Uncle Tariq and Uncle Humza stayed with their own families. With nowhere else to go, Abdullah slept beside Papa and Big Nano his "second grandparents" with Aunt Amira close by.
In the days that followed, Abdullah wore a quiet, emotionless face. He wasn't happy, but he tried not to cry in front of anyone. He took his father's words seriously.
Stay strong.
He spent most of his time on his device, using it as a shield. During the nights, though, everything came back. He lay between Papa and Big Nano, sometimes with Aunt Amira beside him, and the thoughts rushed in.
Just wait until next time.
The words echoed in his head, and he began to cry.
"I didn't get to see her again," he whispered. "It's not fair."
Papa and Big Nano pulled him closer.
"That's how life is, beta," Big Nano said gently. "Everyone's time comes."
"You still have a Nano," she added softly.
"Allah has a designated time for all of us," Papa said. "It was simply her time."
Their words didn't erase the pain, but they made it lighter. Just a little.
During this time, Aunt Amira softened a lot. Everyone else seemed stressed and busy, but she always made time for Abdullah. Tall and skinny unusually tall for a woman in Pakistan she played traditional games with him, their own version of rock-paper-scissors, ludo, board games.
She made space for him to still be a kid.
During the day, Abdullah managed.
At night, it was harder.
The memories came back stronger then. But at least he wasn't alone.
Eventually, it was time to leave again. A road trip to his father's hometown.
Abdullah didn't want to go. Leaving his grandparents' house felt wrong, but he had no choice. He said goodbye to everyone and climbed into the front seat of the car.
As they drove, Abdullah stared out the window.
"The sky is so clear," he thought.
He watched the road signs pass, letting his mind drift as the city came into view.
Looks like we've almost
arrived…