The night had grown deep. Moonlight fell over the mountains of Yada. Musa stood on the balcony. Saeed and Husain were beside him. Zakia was asleep inside.
Saeed could not hold his patience anymore. He grabbed Musa's hand. "Musa, please. Tell us. What happened next? You ran away. Where did you go? What did you do?"
Musa looked at him. There were tears in Saeed's eyes. He truly wanted to know.
Musa took a deep breath and said, "Alright. I will tell you today. But promise me—if you see tears, you will not ask me to stop."
Saeed nodded. "I promise."
Husain leaned forward. Musa began—
Ikrak, On the Road from Mirajpur
1986 – Running Away and Returning
That dawn, I had run away. I kept walking. I did not know where I would go. I just wanted to go far. As far as possible. Away from this city, these people, these deaths.
Blisters had formed on my feet. My body was exhausted. But I could not stop. If I stopped, everything would end.
Suddenly someone called from behind, "Musa! Musa!"
I did not stop. I walked faster.
"Musa, stop!" Someone ran up and grabbed my hand.
I turned around. It was that little girl from the ashram. Her name was Zarina. Seven years old. Tears in her eyes.
Zarina said, "Where are you going?"
I said nothing.
She said, "Everyone is looking for you. Ayesha Apa is crying. She will not let you go. Come with me."
I shook my head. "I will not return. If I stay close to anyone, they die."
Zarina shook her head strongly. "No, no, no! That is not true. No one dies because of you. It was bad people. You did nothing. Come, please."
I stood silently. Zarina pulled my hand. From behind, more children came. The ashram children surrounded me.
One boy said, "Musa, you are our friend. If you leave, we will cry."
My eyes filled with tears. I could not speak.
They held me and brought me back to the ashram. Ayesha Apa stood at the door. Seeing me, she hugged me and cried. "Crazy boy! Where were you going? You are ours. We will not let you go."
That day I understood—I was not alone. These people were my family.
After returning, life continued again. Work in the fields, studies, playing. But Uncle Bashar was gone. His absence was always there.
Now Ayesha Apa managed everything. She was very kind. She taught us, told stories, cared for us. But in her eyes, the same sorrow remained. After Uncle Bashar's death, many responsibilities had fallen on her shoulders.
One morning Ayesha Apa called me. "Musa, I have news for you."
I went closer. Beside her stood a couple. A gentleman and a lady. They were dressed beautifully. It was clear they were wealthy.
The gentleman said, "Are you Musa? I am Robert. This is my wife, Elizabeth. We have come from Europe."
I did not understand. I just looked at them.
Elizabeth came near me and gently touched my cheek. "What a beautiful boy."
I stepped back.
Ayesha Apa said, "Musa, they want to adopt you. They have no children. They want to take you as their own son to Europe."
My mind could not process it. Adopt? Europe? A new country? New people?
I shook my head. "No. I will stay here."
Mr. Robert said, "Musa, we will not force you. But think once. There you will have many opportunities. You can study. You can become whatever you wish to be."
Elizabeth said, "We will love you very much. You will be our only son."
I stayed silent. That day I said nothing.
That night I thought. A new country. New people. Would they truly love me? Or would they also leave one day?
Inside, I felt weak. The truth was—I wanted someone to love me. Truly love me. Like my mother did, like my father did, like my grandmother did.
The next morning I went to Robert and Elizabeth. I said, "I will go."
Elizabeth burst into tears and hugged me. Mr. Robert's eyes became wet.
I said goodbye to Ayesha Apa and all the children. Zarina was crying. She said, "Musa, you will not forget us, right?"
I said, "Never."
Then we left. A long journey. First by truck, then by plane. It was my first time on a plane. I was very afraid. Elizabeth held my hand and said, "Do not be afraid. I am here."
Finally, we reached a city in Europe. The city's name was Geneva. A very large city. Houses, cars, people everywhere. My eyes could hardly take it in.
Their house was huge. Three stories. A garden in front. Many rooms inside. They gave me my own room. From the window I could see the garden. In the distance, mountains.
Elizabeth said, "From now on, this is your room. Do whatever you wish. We will arrange everything for you."
I sat on the bed. I said nothing.
The first few months were very difficult. I did not know the language. I could not understand them. Robert and Elizabeth patiently taught me. English, French, everything.
They never loved me less than their own child. Perhaps even more. Every day after work, Mr. Robert would play with me. Elizabeth cooked my favorite meals. When I was sick, they stayed awake all night beside me.
One day Elizabeth hugged me and said, "Musa, you changed our lives. Before you came, we were very lonely. Now we are complete."
Mr. Robert said, "Yes, son. You are our child. You are our everything."
My eyes filled with tears. That day I understood—Allah had given me a family again. A real family. People who loved me. People I loved.
Zarina, Ayesha Apa, Uncle Bashar, Uncle Yusuf, my parents, Layla—all had gone. But these people came. This love came.
I looked at the sky and whispered, "Allah, thank You."
Musa stopped. His eyes were wet, but there was a smile on his lips.
Saeed whispered, "Are they still alive?"
Musa shook his head. "No. They are gone too. Many years ago. But their love is still with me."
Husain asked, "What kind of people were they?"
Musa looked out the window. "They were angels. Allah sent me angels twice. Once as Uncle Yusuf, and once as Robert and Elizabeth. They taught me—love never dies. People die, but love remains."
Saeed asked softly, "Then what happened? How did you become Dark Psycho?"
Musa smiled faintly. "That is another story. Enough for today. It is very late. Zakia will wake up."
Saeed and Husain remained silent. They understood—this was enough for tonight.
Musa looked toward Zakia's room and said, "Pray for her. She will grow up. One day she will know about her parents. And I will never let her be alone. I promise."
Outside, the night was deep. Moonlight over the mountains of Yada. In Musa's eyes now there was no fire—only peace. A strange, quiet peace.
Because he knows—love exists. And because it exists, he is alive. And as long as he lives, he can fight. InshaAllah.