“~The Lock~”
712 Words
The sun was still low when they packed their things the next morning.
The cousins were still asleep. Mamu stood at the gate, smiling, handing Amma a small bag of mithai. Mami hugged each of the girls tightly, her hands warm with love.
“Come again soon,” she said.
“But not just for Eid, okay?”
Farah smiled.
Tayyba and Maryam waved, eyes full of sleepy joy.
It had been two days of something they hadn’t felt in a long time — ease.
Two days of laughter, color, food, jokes, and rest.
Two days of being children.
But now... they were going back.
The ride home was quiet. Not heavy — not yet.
Just tired. Maryam leaned against Amma’s arm.
“I’ll see my plants soon.”
Farah glanced out the side of the rickshaw, the wind blowing her dupatta gently.
Tayyba hummed softly under her breath, still twirling the ring Mami had gifted her.
“I miss Baba a little,” she whispered.
Amma smiled faintly.
“We’ll see him soon.”
The rickshaw came to a slow stop just outside their gate. Maryam jumped off first, excitement in her step.Tayyba was already imagining checking her mehndi in the mirror.
Farah was smiling faintly, eyes calm after two days of peace.
But then they saw it. The gate was locked.They all stopped.
Amma stepped forward, frowning.
“Why is there a lock?”
It was Sunday. Baba was supposed to be home. They didn’t even bring the keys because they knew — he’d be there. Amma’s voice changed.
“He knew we were coming today. At this hour, where could he have gone?”
She pulled out her phone and called him.
Ring… no answer.
She called again.
Still nothing.
Third time.
Fourth.
Fifth.
No response.
Now Amma’s voice was annoyed and it was tight with confusion. She turned to the girls.
“Wait here,” she said, walking to the neighbor’s gate.
She knocked.
The door creaked open slowly.
Uncle stood there — sleepy-eyed, a bit stunned. He looked at Amma, then at the girls, his eyes widening. Amma tried to keep things light.
“Brother, you look like you’ve seen ghosts. Why the big eyes?”
She laughed a little.
Farah and Tayyba smiled politely. Maryam stepped forward.
“Uncle, has Baba given you the keys?”
Uncle looked from Maryam to Amma.
“No... no, he didn’t.”
“He didn’t say anything to me about you coming.”
Amma, confused, nodded.
“He’s not picking up either... I don’t know where he went. Can you try calling him?”
Uncle took out his phone.
As he dialed, he looked at Amma and said something that froze the air.
“Sister... didn’t you people move out?”
Amma blinked.
“Move out? What do you mean?
“Your husband... yesterday... he was loading all the household things. The fan,
the gas cylinder, TV... everything. He told me you had already moved to your new house.
That only the goods were left, which he was taking now.”
The world stopped.
Amma’s smile vanished.
Farah’s face went pale.
Tayybs stared at the lock like it was something breathing.
Amma whispered,
“We were at my brother’s house for Eid. We never moved. What are you saying?”
Uncle's phone connected.
“Assalamualaikum bhai, where are you? Your wife and daughters are outside.
They don’t have the key. Come quickly.”
A pause.
Then, Baba’s voice.
Flat. Cold.
“Tell them to break the lock and go inside.”
“I have nothing to do with them anymore.”
“Don’t call me again.”
Click.
Uncle looked at Amma.
No one said a word.
Maryam felt the air leave her lungs.
What just happened?
They didn’t cry. Not yet.
They just stood there — still.
Broken without breaking.
Farah whispered,
“He left us?”
Tayyba held Maryam’s hand tighter.
Questions flooded their minds:
Hadn’t we cared for him?
Hadn’t we loved him?
Were we this bad?
Was this real?
Was it final?
No one knew the answers.The gate stayed locked.
The house behind it — emptied.
The world they left behind for two days — was gone.
And so was he.
- Writer
