After the Departed

It was raining softly. The cemetery was silent except for the faint sound of footsteps. A lone man walked slowly between the graves, a white rose in one hand and an old letter in the other. This was Zaid — the same Zaid who had once been loved beyond imagination by Saba.

He reached a familiar grave and sat beside it like he was meeting an old friend.

"Where did the story end? You still have to declare me deceased."
These were the last words Saba had said to him in their final meeting.

Saba was a tender-hearted girl, full of warmth and sincerity. She entered Zaid’s life like spring — filling every corner with color and light. For a while, it seemed like nothing could go wrong. Their bond was pure, silent, and deep like an ocean.

But fate has its own plans. Saba was diagnosed with cancer.

Zaid fought. He prayed, begged, spent nights without sleep at the hospital, holding on to hope. He tried everything to pull Saba away from death’s grip, but some journeys cannot be delayed, only made gentler.

Saba, even in pain, never let go of her grace. She wrote letters, each filled with the fragrance of love and the weight of farewell. One such letter read:

"Zaid, if I am no longer here, don’t let my memories die. My name, my words, my laughter — let them live with you. They are yours to keep."

The last day of her life was the darkest day in Zaid's.

She lay in the hospital bed, weak and pale. When he held her hand, she opened her eyes slowly, smiled faintly, and whispered,
"Where did the story end, Zaid? You still have to declare me deceased."

Tears welled up in his eyes, but before he could speak, she gently closed her eyes — forever.

Zaid never forgot her words.

He kept every letter, every picture, and every moment safe — locked in memory and in heart. A year after her death, he built a small library in her name. It was filled with her writings, his memories, and their story. People came, read, cried, smiled, and learned what love truly means.

Every year, on her death anniversary, Zaid would return to her grave with a white rose. He would sit quietly, sometimes talking to her, sometimes just watching the sky.

"Where did the story end, Saba? You live in every memory." he would whisper.

Years passed. Time aged him, but his love remained untouched. He never married, never let anyone else fill Saba’s place. In his heart, she was still present — not as a wound, but as a presence, as a truth that never faded.

Fifty years later, Zaid too left this world. When they found him, he was lying peacefully in bed, holding one of Saba’s letters close to his chest. A smile lingered on his face. The letter had a note written by him:

"Now the story is complete, Saba. Now you may declare me deceased."


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Summary:
This is not just a tale of loss — it’s a testament to eternal love. Some stories do not end with death. Some continue to live on, through letters, through memories, through silence. Zaid and Saba’s love reminds us that when love is true, it doesn’t need to be loud — it simply never dies.