Politics and Love 1
1511 Words
Quietly...
He watched the two of them disappear down the corridor.
For the first time...
A strange heaviness settled over his heart.
Khizar had accepted Azal as his brother without hesitation...
Yet he had always kept his distance from him.
Perhaps...
His mother was partly responsible for that distance.
And perhaps...
He himself wasn't blameless either.
After standing there for a few moments, he turned around and opened the door to Fayaz's office.
Fayaz let out a weary sigh.
"Ah, Khizar..."
"What am I supposed to do with that boy?"
Muhtashim silently pressed his lips together.
All his life...
He had tried to do everything that would make Fayaz proud.
Everything that would place him above Khizar in his father's eyes.
He worked harder.
He obeyed.
He never complained.
Yet somehow...
Without even trying...
Khizar had always remained the most precious person in Fayaz's heart.
---
After spending the rest of the day buried in work...
Muhtashim finally returned home.
"Mom..."
"I'm home."
As always, the first place he went was his mother's room.
"Oh, you're back."
She had been sitting in front of the dressing table.
The moment she saw him, she immediately stood up and walked over.
"Muhtashim..."
"Are you alright?"
The concern on her face deepened the instant she looked at him.
"Yes, Mom."
"I'm perfectly fine."
"Please don't worry."
"Dad will be home a little late today."
"He has some work to finish."
"You should get some rest."
He smiled gently, trying to reassure her.
Only after seeing her calm down did he leave for his own room.
He took off his coat...
And tossed it onto the bed.
Then he quietly walked into the bathroom.
Today hadn't been physically exhausting...
Yet somehow...
He felt more tired than he had in a very long time.
There was no one he could truly open his heart to.
No father whose shoulder he could lean on.
No one he could look up to and believe was stronger than himself.
Fayaz was a good man.
He really was.
But...
He always gave Khizar more importance.
He was always worried about Khizar.
Always thinking about him.
Even though Khizar hardly showed him any affection...
Even though he rarely cared for him...
Still...
Fayaz's attention never left him.
Muhtashim, on the other hand...
Did everything a son was supposed to do.
Yet somehow...
He had never become more important than Khizar.
Not even once.
He wanted...
Just once...
To become his father's favorite son.
A son who would make his father feel that he needed no one else.
When he stepped out of the bathroom...
A few colorful candies were scattered beside his coat on the bed.
He stopped.
Then...
Without realizing it...
He smiled.
In the busyness of the day...
He had completely forgotten about Azal.
He walked over, picked up the candies, and looked at them quietly.
Maybe...
There were still people left in this world who weren't selfish.
People who could devote themselves completely to someone over the smallest act of kindness.
People who knew how to love...
Without expecting anything in return.
Muhtashim Qureshi...
Wanted someone like that in his life too.
Someone who would stand up before he even arrived...
So he would never have to wait for them to rise for him.
The thought alone...
Brought a quiet smile to his lips.
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> "There is no joyful tale within this story,
Otherwise, I would have had no excuse to tell it to you."
---
"Hello, guys! Listen to me!"
Hanzala Ayub clapped his hands loudly, instantly drawing the attention of every student gathered on the university ground.
He was dressed in slim black trousers paired with a crisp white, full-sleeved button-up shirt. The cuffs were casually folded just above his wrists, revealing the elegant watch he wore on one arm. White joggers completed his simple yet effortlessly stylish appearance.
Twenty-two years old, Hanzala was remarkably handsome. His fair complexion, deep black eyes that shimmered with life, and naturally rosy lips made him stand out in any crowd. Yet, what attracted people the most wasn't merely his appearance—it was the innocent warmth written across his face. There was an unmistakable purity about him, a childlike sincerity that drew others toward him without effort.
He was cheerful by nature.
Making friends was his favorite thing in the world.
Because of his gentle manners and the affection with which he treated everyone, he already had countless friends.
Even so...
He still felt they weren't enough.
---
"This time, I'm participating in the tournament as well. And I want all of you to vote for me!"
Standing confidently on top of a bench, Hanzala addressed the crowd with infectious enthusiasm.
The weather around them was beautiful.
Soft clouds drifted lazily across the sky while rays of sunlight filtered through them, spreading a warm golden glow over the university grounds.
---
"Oh, come on! You're already preparing to become a politician," Huzail laughed from below.
Hanzala chuckled.
"No, buddy. I'm going to become a surgeon."
---
"Then why don't you join politics like your father?" Hamza asked with a grin.
"It's boring, yaar. Politics isn't my future.
But yes... this time, vote for me.
I want to become the leader of this university.
And unlike politicians, I'm not going to make huge promises like, 'Vote for me and I'll turn this university into the Burj Khalifa,' or 'I'll make everyone here so righteous they'll all become saints.'"
The entire crowd burst into laughter.
---
"I can't do any of that.
But I can promise one thing.
I'll do everything I can to eliminate the wrongs inside this university.
This year alone, d**g dealing among students has become frighteningly common.
Harassing girls is treated as though it's perfectly normal.
Then again...
This is the system of our country.
How could our university remain untouched by it?
People have even started taking the lives of the weak.
I want to stop all of it.
That's all I want.
I just want to become your leader."
Hanzala's excitement was unmistakable.
Confidence echoed in his voice, while genuine determination sparkled inside his eyes.
A gentle breeze swept across the campus.
The leaves rustled softly in the trees, and several broke free, twirling gracefully through the air like tiny dancers.
Watching them almost made them seem alive.
The audience listened silently.
Some smiled.
Others watched him with thoughtful expressions.
The entire atmosphere carried an unusual energy that everyone could feel.
As soon as his speech ended...
Thunderous applause erupted across the ground in appreciation.
---
"You know," Hamza said with a smile, "you should become a politician instead of a doctor.
You have a gift.
Your words can win people's minds...
And if you actually lived by those words, you'd win their hearts too."
Hanzala laughed.
"But I still want to become a surgeon. That's my dream."
---
"Alright then! Since you're going to be famous very soon, let's take a picture together so we become famous too!" Basit joked.
"Sure!"
Hanzala jumped down from the bench and stood among his friends.
Everyone took out their phones and switched on their cameras.
Just as they were about to take the picture—
Someone suddenly grabbed Hanzala from behind and pulled him away.
Standing some distance away, Yawar Malik watched the scene unfold.
There was something strange...
Almost unreadable...
About the way he looked at them.
"Who is this?"
Being pulled backward, Hanzala asked, even though he already knew exactly who had dragged him away.
"Your father's spoiled favorite."
Ariz Haider replied as he gripped Hanzala by the arm and walked him away from the crowd.
Like Hanzala, Ariz was dressed in black trousers, a white shirt with the sleeves folded at the cuffs, a wristwatch, and white joggers. The resemblance between them was almost amusing.
He was twenty-one years old.
His looks were no less striking than Hanzala's.
He had fair skin and light brown eyes whose true color only became visible under sunlight. His hair was the same length as Hanzala's—falling over his forehead and reaching the tops of his ears.
Like Hanzala, he dreamed of becoming a surgeon and serving his country.
Politics held no interest for him whatsoever.
Unlike Hanzala, however, he wasn't someone who talked much.
The only people with whom he became truly talkative were those he loved.
And among those people...
Hanzala ranked second.
The first—and the only person above him—was his father, Haider.
There was another thing about Ariz.
A terrible habit.
He lost his temper over the smallest things.
"Ariz, I was giving a speech!
You came late.
You missed the whole thing."
Hanzala said with a smile as they walked out of the university ground together.
Ariz shot him a sideways glance.
"Really?
Were you giving a speech...
Or collecting pictures with everyone?"
---
"You've become very possessive, Ariz."
Hanzala suppressed a smile.
"I've become possessive?
Oh, really?"
Ariz scoffed, tossing his head dismissively.
-
"Even if I talk to someone for a minute, you get upset.
Honestly...
- Writer
