A Letter from the Sky

In a small town nestled between green hills and quiet streams, lived a young girl named Areeba. She was only eight when her mother passed away. Since then, her father, Mr. Karim, had raised her with tender love and quiet strength. He worked long hours at the workshop but never missed their nightly ritual: a bedtime story and a soft kiss on the forehead.

As Areeba grew, she became her father's pride—smart, kind, and curious. She would leave him little notes in his lunchbox, like: "Don’t forget to smile today!" or "You’re my hero." He kept them all in his wallet, worn but sacred.

On her 18th birthday, Areeba surprised him with a scrapbook titled “Our Little World.” Each page held a memory: pictures, drawings, and stories they'd shared over the years. He cried quietly that night, clutching the book like a treasure.

Years passed. Areeba got a scholarship to a university in another city. Parting was painful, but Mr. Karim only smiled and said, “Go shine, meri jaan. The stars are waiting for you.”

She called every evening. “Papa, did you eat?” “Papa, don’t forget your medicine.” And he’d laugh, “You’ve become my Amma now.”

One day, the calls stopped.

Areeba had been in an accident. A reckless driver, a rainy road, and fate being cruel.

The world fell silent for Mr. Karim. His hands, once so steady, trembled. The house was too quiet, the air too heavy.

Weeks later, he received a letter.

It was in her handwriting.

"Papa, if you're reading this, it means I'm no longer there to call you every night. But please don't be sad. I had the best father in the world. I was never afraid because I had your love holding me up. When you feel lonely, just look at the stars. I’ll be one of them, blinking just for you. I love you beyond forever. Your Areeba."

He framed the letter.

And every night, Mr. Karim sat on the porch, looking at the sky.

And somewhere, a star twinkled—just a little brighter than the rest.