Shehzad sits cross-legged on his bed, tracing the soft fur of his favorite stuffed lion. He listens to the distant sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen, every so often glancing at the door, waiting for his parents to appear. The sunlight warms his face, but it does little to fill the quiet space left by the absence of his parents.
Shehzad sits at the table, hands folded in his lap, as his mother and father move around him, gathering bags and keys. "Will you be home soon?" he asks, his eyes fixed on the pattern of the tablecloth. His mother kneels, smoothing his hair, "We’ll be back before you know it, sweetheart. Make sure you draw something special for us today." His father gives a gentle squeeze to his shoulder, and soon the door closes, leaving the kitchen quieter than before.
Shehzad stands at the window, watching cars glide by, his breath leaving small foggy patches on the glass. He picks up a blue pencil, drawing slow, careful lines, but pauses often to look back at the clock. The ticking seems louder now, each minute stretched by longing.
Shehzad wraps himself in his favorite blanket, rocking gently, the soft rhythm calming his anxious thoughts. He reads aloud to his stuffed animals, "The little fox missed his friends, but he knew they would come back soon," his voice barely above a whisper. Sometimes, he closes his eyes and listens to the soft ticking and the distant sounds from outside, imagining his parents’ voices.
Shehzad rushes to answer, his heart beating faster. On the screen, his parents smile at him, their voices bright and loving. "We miss you so much, Shehzad! What did you draw today?" His face lights up as he holds his picture to the camera, telling them every detail. For a moment, the distance feels smaller, and the house feels warmer.
Shehzad races down the hallway, arms outstretched, joy shining in his eyes. His parents kneel to embrace him tightly, their warmth and laughter filling the house once again. "We’re home, and we missed you," his mother whispers, and the quiet longing of the day is replaced by the comfort of togetherness.
