Stone‑Hearted

Faiza had slowly begun to believe that Yusuf loved his sons more than his daughters, and that Isha and Fajr were deprived of their father’s affection.

It was another late evening when Yusuf returned home from work. Despite his exhaustion, he did not forget to bring toys for his sons, Nihal and Bilal. He sat with them, watching them play, laughing, and occasionally joining their games. From the kitchen, where Faiza was busy cooking, her eyes fell on her daughters, Isha and Fajr. The girls stood quietly at a distance, watching their father and brothers with longing eyes.

Even from afar, Faiza could see tears gathering in her daughters’ eyes. Anger and resentment began to rise in her heart. She hurriedly finished her work and went to Yusuf.

“What did you bring for Isha and Fajr?” she asked.

Yusuf looked at her in surprise. “Why would I bring anything for them? I saw toys on the way and bought them for Nihal and Bilal.”

Faiza felt a surge of anger, and an argument broke out between them. This was not the first time. Yusuf almost always brought something for his sons, but rarely for his daughters. Over time, Faiza became convinced that Yusuf loved his sons more, while Isha and Fajr yearned for their father’s attention.

This thought consumed Faiza’s mind so deeply that it turned into bitterness. Slowly, an intense hatred toward Nihal and Bilal began to grow in her heart. Although she tried to hide it, her behavior toward the boys started to change. Yusuf noticed her coldness and became deeply disturbed, unable to understand why Faiza was behaving so strangely with the children.

A dangerous thought took root in Faiza’s mind: if Nihal and Bilal were not there, Yusuf’s love and attention would belong entirely to Isha and Fajr. From that moment on, she became absent‑minded, lost in her thoughts, performing her daily tasks without awareness.

Yusuf tried many times to ask what was troubling her, but Faiza avoided the conversation every time.

One day, Yusuf returned home earlier than usual and sensed an unsettling silence in the house. His world collapsed when he saw Nihal lying lifeless in the courtyard. What shocked him even more was the emptiness in Faiza’s eyes—there were no tears, only fear and disturbance.

Before Yusuf could recover from this tragedy, another blow struck months later. His four‑year‑old son, Bilal, died suddenly. Yusuf was shattered. He could not understand what sin he had committed to deserve such a punishment. At times, doubt crept into his heart—could Faiza be responsible? But he dismissed the thought, believing no mother could harm her own children.

Faiza, however, began to deteriorate rapidly. She felt suffocated, claimed to hear her sons calling her, and screamed in the middle of the night. She said she saw their spirits. Yusuf assumed it was grief and tried to comfort her. Doctors were consulted, treatments attempted, but nothing helped.

Hoping a change of environment would help, Yusuf planned to move away for some time, but Faiza’s condition did not improve. One day, lost in deep thought, she suddenly asked, “Did you love your sons very much?”

“Yes,” Yusuf replied, “but why are you asking?”

“If you found out someone had killed your children, what would you do?”

“I would not hesitate for a moment,” Yusuf said. “I would kill them the same way they killed my children.”

After that conversation, Faiza’s mental state worsened. She began speaking incoherently, reigniting Yusuf’s suspicions.

One day, Yusuf returned home early again and found Faiza sitting on a mound, staring into the distance. Suddenly, her eyes fell on Isha and Fajr playing happily with their father. She felt a strange happiness, followed immediately by an unbearable sense of loss. Voices echoed in her mind, her head throbbed, and she felt her breath slipping away.

Yusuf rushed toward her, but her words froze him in place.

“I killed my children,” she confessed. “I murdered my sons.”

Yusuf looked at her with disgust. “How could you do this? What kind of mother are you?”

“I did it for my daughters,” she cried. “You only loved Nihal and Bilal.”

Yusuf shouted back, “The difference was never in my love—it was in your thinking. You are mentally ill. I will take my daughters and leave you forever. The court will decide your punishment.”

Leaving Faiza crying and screaming, Yusuf walked toward his daughters, never looking back.