Finally, the work is done," Uncle says with relief.
The stress lifts off his head, and I feel glad seeing him—at least someone is living peacefully. "This is a pretty good life this man is living. He's an inspiration to me to become better, to stay calm in every situation. Talk less, work more, avoid bad comments." Uncle has taught me so much without even realizing he's my teacher. The hard work he has done and is still doing at this age what a man he is.
I admire Uncle every time I see him working in the farmland. At the dining table, they share their space with me, accepting me like their own child, treating me like family. Slowly, I'm beginning to forget my past—the pain, the loss of my parents
It was nighttime. I was sleeping when I heard my phone ring. I had forgotten to switch it off yesterday because Aunty had called me for dinner, and I had left it under the almirah. The sound was loud and disturbing. I opened my eyes, annoyed—I was sleeping so well—but that loud ring woke me up.
"How could I forget to switch it off?" I muttered in a tense voice.
I opened the almirah and looked at the screen. The name flashing was Unknown.
I picked up.
"I waited for the other side to speak... but there was no sound.
'Who is this?' I asked.
'How are you?'
It was my brother's voice. After so many years, I heard his voice again—sweet, soft, and so familiar.
'Well...' I replied, unsure.
I was in shock. Why was he calling me after all these years? What had forced him to do this? I was certain he would never speak to me again... and yet, here he was.
I should've been happy, but I couldn't show it on my face. I had gotten too used to hiding my emotions. I didn't know how to react—should I cry, laugh, or be angry at him? All emotions hit me at once.
But tears started flowing down my cheeks. Finally. My wait was over. Finally, I got what I always wanted. My brother had called me. He asked how I am. He cared. He still cared. He didn't hate me.
'How about you?' I asked softly.
'Fine,' he replied quickly—like he had been waiting for that question, like he already knew what I'd ask.
'Where are you?'
'At our grandparents' village,' I answered.
The call was still on, but neither of us knew what to say next. He went silent. I was still in shock. Words failed me. What could I say to him? What words would be right for this moment?
The questions didn't disappear.
They just hid somewhere inside me…
waiting for the right time to come out.
*******
Morning start with different feeling… first time I'm this much happy. The stress on my head—it's gone somewhere… like it never existed. I always used to think… is it tough for him or me? To talk with each other… to start a conversation… just to say "Hey." But I think the word "Hi" is more difficult for us—we, brothers.
"Brother"—I used to feel awkward hearing that word… but now, I feel a connection again. A sense of family… the only family I have—my little younger brother. I didn't see him growing up… but I can imagine—he must be tall, handsome, maybe like Dad.
I always wanted to meet him… to see him in real. But what would we talk about when we meet? What would he say? And being the elder one, maybe I have to start… I'm excited… but also afraid.
I still remember his teenage days, when he used to call me Brother, shared every little thing with me. "Brother this, brother that"—he never stopped talking. But after that incident… after Mom and Dad's accident… everything changed. We changed. From brothers to strangers.
Now, I just wish to hear that word again—Brother—from his soft voice… but what if he doesn't say it anymore? What if he's just meeting me for some reason, not because he wants to?
He was sitting in front of me, just as I had imagined. He had grown… looked a bit like me now… like Dad. But his eyes—they had become like Mom's. Beautiful, grey.
"How's life going?" he asked, looking at my expressionless face.
"Going on," I replied quietly.
Just as I thought… he spoke first. He had become a perfect gentleman.
The same guy who once wore shorts and t-shirts now wore a full-sleeved shirt—like an office guy.
I knew about his professional life. He had become an investor, just like Dad.
"Are you still single?" he asked again. It felt like he already knew the answer, but still wanted to hear it from me.
I took a deep sigh.
"Yes."
"You should start a family now," he said clearly, as if reading a script from society.
The same old belief: a grown man should marry a beautiful girl, have children, raise them, and live a simple, stable life. Right?
"I'm not planning to marry just any random girl," I replied.
"Then you're already interested in someone?"
"Maybe. What about you, gentleman?" I sipped the coffee. It was warm—perfect for the tense conversation between us.
"There's a fear inside me"—a doubt about my own brother's feelings.
I truly want him to feel what I once felt for him… that reunion between us… to meet again, talk again, laugh, and share everything.
But the years we lived apart… they've changed us. It might be hard to become like we were before.
Maybe we can never return to what we once had.
"I have choices," he said.
"Choose the one who suits you," I answered.
Our relationship had already ended… and now, only an if remains.
Maybe he thinks the same—that no matter how hard we try, we'll never get back what we lost.
Time changes everything—relationships, emotions, people… even ourselves.
After that, we said goodbye to each other. But before we could, I saw his face — it looked like he was hiding something from me. He wanted to say it, but the words got caught in his throat.
What is he hiding?
"Will we meet again?"
This question popped into my head. But from his actions… the way he talked… I felt like we would.
He came from Canada for his investment business — just for a short while. Then, he'll go back… I guess.