The air in the grand hall was thick with anticipation, as if each breath was being held in suspension. The ornate chandelier cast its warm, golden light upon the polished marble floor, guiding the steps of the couple making their way toward the center of the room. Murtasim Khan, the rich feudal lord and successful businessman, and his wife, Meerab, a respected lawyer in their own right, were dressed to impress. He in his finest crisp white shalwar kameez, she in an elegant sapphire-colored shalwar kameez that shimmered with every graceful movement. Their footsteps echoed through the hall as they walked, each step deliberate and purposeful.
Their son, Mahir, stood nearby, his small hands clasped nervously behind his back. The eight-year-old boy had been feeling ignored lately, his parents' attention seemingly consumed by something else entirely. His brown eyes darted around the room, taking in the opulent surroundings and the people who were beginning to gather around them. He could feel his heart racing, his cheeks burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment. He wanted to shout, to demand their attention, but instead, he remained silent.
Murtasim cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to him and his wife. He spoke with the regal bearing that came from generations of power and wealth, his voice booming across the hall. "My dear friends and family, it is with great pleasure that I announce the birth of our second child, our beautiful daughter, Meesam." The room erupted into applause, and Murtasim and Meerab beamed with pride as they held their precious bundle.
Mahir's heart sank even further. He wanted to feel happy for his little sister, but he couldn't help but feel left out. As his parents continued to bask in the adoration of their guests, he wandered off to the side, staring at a painting on the wall. He wondered if they had ever loved him as much as they loved her. Tears began to well up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He would not let himself be a burden to anyone. He would find a way to be happy for his sister and his parents, even if it meant pushing his own feelings aside.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Mahir. There were more people, more food, more gifts for the new baby. He forced a smile on his face and did his best to play along, even though it felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on his chest. He watched as his parents danced with their friends, laughing and enjoying themselves, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.
Later that night, as everyone finally began to leave, Murtasim and Meerab gathered Mahir and Meesam in their arms. They kissed both of their children's foreheads, promising them that they would always love them equally. Mahir wanted to believe them, but deep down, he knew that things had changed. He wondered if his parents would ever realize how much their attention had shifted, or if they would continue to focus on their newborn daughter and ignore the son who had been so important to them before.
The next few days were difficult for Mahir. He tried to be understanding and helpful around the house, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being pushed aside. His parents were always holding Meesam or talking about her latest milestones, and he felt like he was invisible. He knew that it wasn't fair to feel this way, but the pain was too much to ignore.
One afternoon, when his parents were busy with errands, Mahir decided to take a walk in the garden. The scent of jasmine filled the air, and the sun shone brightly overhead. He wandered through the winding paths, lost in thought. As he rounded a corner, he came across an old wooden bench beneath a towering fig tree. He sat down, leaning his head back against the rough bark, and let out a long sigh.
Mahir had always loved the garden. It was a place where he felt closest to his mother, who had spent countless hours tending to the flowers and vegetables. He remembered how she would tell him stories about the plants and their histories, and how she would listen to his own stories with rapt attention. He wished he could talk to her now, but she was too busy with the baby.
