When I was a boy, my mother would tell me that one of the best things in life is the knowledge that your story isn’t over yet. Our story may have come to a close, but your story is still yet to be told.
Make it a story worthy of you.
I failed you in one last thing. Here is my chance to rectify it. It was never because I didn’t feel it. It was because I swore I would never say it, and a man is nothing if he can’t keep his promises.
So I write it to the sky—
I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it.
Khalid
Khalid stood at the railing of the rooftop terrace, watching the sun rise across a clear horizon.
His broken palace of marble and stone still smoldered at the edges, cleaved on many sides.
His city was a wasteland of dark plumes and rubble. Of lost promises and heartbreak.
For a breath, he closed his eyes to the ruin.
But only for a breath.
Because it was his city. His choice. His responsibility.
He would never hide from it again.
With renewed purpose, he took the single piece of parchment and held it to the flickering torch nearby.
A corner of the page began to fold into ash, and the flames licked up the sides in shades of azure and orange.
Khalid held the burning letter before him.
Then he released its embers into the wind.
Into a glorious dawn.