Sometimes, the people we spend our whole lives loving are the same people who leave the deepest wounds behind.
I always believed old age brings peace. Children grow up, build their own homes, and parents quietly live the rest of their lives together with memories that feel warm and safe. My life once looked exactly like that. A loving husband, a small peaceful home, and memories I thought would always protect me from loneliness.
But some truths never stay buried forever.
One day, they break through the grave of silence.
That day still stops my breathing whenever I remember it.
We were standing near the edge of the mountain. The wind was strong, and Alina kept smiling strangely. There was something cold in her eyes that I could not understand. I softly told her,
“Beta, step back a little…”
And the next moment…
She pushed us.
While falling, I felt time freeze. My body kept hitting the rocks, my breath was breaking apart, and when I finally landed, it felt like every bone inside me had shattered. I could taste blood in my mouth, and the sky above me spun like a nightmare.
But the worst pain was not the broken body.
It was the realization that the person trying to kill us was not a stranger…
It was our own daughter.
Yousaf slowly whispered into my ear,
“Don’t move… pretend to be dead… because the real danger is not over yet.”
I stayed completely still.
Above us, I could hear footsteps. Then Alina’s voice came down from the cliff,
“It’s done… just like it was twenty years ago.”
Those words destroyed something inside me.
Twenty years earlier, our son Hamza had also been found dead beneath the same mountain. The police called it an accident. We accepted it because sometimes parents refuse to hear the truth their hearts are afraid of.
But that day, lying there broken and bleeding, I finally understood…
It was never an accident.
Our own daughter had taken her brother away from us too.
Even today, I still ask myself one question:
How does greed grow so deeply inside a person that they become the enemy of their own blood?
We gave her love, trust, comfort, and every happiness we could offer. But maybe some hearts are never softened by love, no matter how much they receive.
The hospital, the police reports, the endless questions… everything passed like a blur. Then one night, the police told us she had confessed.
I closed my eyes.
In front of me, I saw Hamza’s innocent face…
and then Alina as a little child.
At that moment, I realized something painful.
I had not only lost a son.
I had lost my daughter a long time ago too.
Life still moves forward somehow. The wounds are healing, but some scars never disappear. Some pain stays alive inside a person forever.
And maybe that is the most terrifying truth of all:
Sometimes the most dangerous people are not the ones we fear…
They are the ones we love the most.
