The Brotherhood That Broke and Healed

by Ikhtisham Hayat

A man once said, “My brother and I were enemies from childhood. Even as we grew older, our rivalry did not fade.”
Their mother—may Allah have mercy on her—would always plead with them: “My children! You are brothers. Apart from each other, you have no one. People may support you, but they’re still just people. A brother is a brother.”
Their father—may Allah have mercy on him too—remained perpetually upset with them. He spoke to them formally, distant and disappointed. His only reason: their endless enmity. He would often say to their mother: “May Allah guide them. One day, they will understand the value of being brothers. And they’ll remember my words. When hardship strikes, they won’t call a friend or companion. The voice that escapes their lips will be, ‘Brother!’”
Time passed.
Both brothers married, but instead of maturing, their conflict worsened. Whenever their wives gathered at their parents’ home, quarrels erupted. The parents grew anxious, worried that supporting one son might turn the other against them.
Then came the first blow—their mother passed away. Five years later, their father followed. They sold the family property, each took his share, and they drifted apart. No contact, no concern. Even their children, as they grew, could not recognize their cousins if they passed them on the street.
And then came the day that changed everything.
One of the brothers, the narrator of this story, invested everything he had in the stock market. It all vanished—wiped out in a moment of greed. Life spiraled downward. He was diagnosed with diabetes, which led to paralysis. The pressure and emotional burden took his sight in one eye. His entire fortune gone, replaced by pain, weakness, and regret.
One dawn, during Fajr prayer, he sat in sujood, sobbing as he made du’a: “Ya Rabb, have mercy on my parents. Have mercy on my helplessness. And bring goodness into the lives of my children.”
A few days later, an old friend and childhood neighbor found him. He asked how life was, then returned a week later.
“I have a favor to ask,” the friend said.
“Go ahead,” he replied.
The friend handed him a cheque. “Here. Half a million Riyals. Use this to restart your life. Consider it a loan. Pay it back only when Allah eases your hardships.”
Tears welled in the man’s eyes. He accepted the cheque, started a small business, and Allah opened doors for him once again. His health improved, the money grew, and every day he thanked Allah.
Then one day, that same friend returned.
“I need to tell you something important.”
“If it’s about the loan,” the man said, “don’t worry. Allah has improved my condition. I’m ready to return it.”
“It’s not about the money,” the friend said, his eyes soft. “It’s bigger than that.”
He took a deep breath and added, “That money wasn’t from me. It was from your brother.”
The world stood still.
“He said, ‘Give this to my brother. And for God’s sake, don’t tell him it’s from me. I can’t bear to see him suffer.’”
The friend continued: “Now your brother is in the hospital—critical condition. He’s fighting between life and death. Go to him. Apologize. He loves you more than you know.”
Without a second thought, the man rushed to the hospital, tears streaming down his cheeks, washing away years of bitterness. He held his brother’s hand, kissed his forehead, and whispered: “Forgive me, please…”
His brother slowly opened his eyes, tears in them too. He placed his hand on the narrator’s chest—and then, in that very moment, he took his last breath.
He had been waiting. Waiting for the hug, the apology, the return.
Today, that man visits his brother’s grave every Friday. He cries and remembers the words of his mother: “My children, you are brothers.”
She was right. When he was at his lowest, no friend came to help. Only his brother did—silently, selflessly.

📌 Moral of the Story A brother is the first person your heart calls for in pain. Childhood quarrels, pride in youth, and the distractions of adulthood can separate us—but deep inside, that bond never breaks.
We think friends and the world are enough. But in true despair, only one name leaves our lips:
“Brother!”
A brother is a silent protector, a hidden hand that catches you before you fall.
If your brother is alive—call him today, hug him, forgive him. Rebuild the relationship.
Because there’s no replacement for a brother.