Missing, But Not Gone

Karachi, 2015.

It become a damp August Evening when ten year old Ayaan vanished from the narrow streets of Gulshan-e-Iqbal. One second he became chasing a kite, the following — long gone. No screams, no clues, no ransom. just silence.

His mother, Farah, refused to believe he was dead. every yr, on his birthday, she published a small advert in the local paper: “Ayaan, if you’re alive, send me a sign. I’m waiting.” people mocked her. “Move on,” they said. however Farah’s coronary heart beat simplest for that one respond.

Ten years passed.

Then, one morning in 2025, Farah obtained an e-mail from an anonymous sender. The concern line study: “I’m alive. but i can’t come returned.”

The message was short:

“I’m Ayaan. I recollect the whole thing. but i will’t return. Please believe me.”

Farah iced up. Her palms trembled. She read the message once more. And once more. The sender’s IP turned into traced to a far off metropolis in Balochistan. however the email vanished minutes later — deleted from the server, unrecoverable. She contacted the police. They shrugged. “could be a prank,” they said. but Farah knew. A mother always is aware of.

Enter: Zoya, a young investigative journalist operating for a web platform. She’d blanketed lacking youngsters instances earlier than, but Farah’s tale struck a chord. Zoya offered to help — now not for clicks, however for closure.

They traveled to the city in which the e-mail originated: Turbat. Dusty roads, suspicious eyes, and a silence that felt rehearsed. Zoya posed as a documentary filmmaker. Farah pretended to be her assistant.

They visited cyber cafés, spoke to locals, and subsequently met a boy named Bilal, who claimed he’d seen a person who gave the look of Ayaan — but older, quieter, constantly by myself.

“He involves the library sometimes,” Bilal whispered. “Reads Urdu poetry. Doesn’t speak to all people.”

Zoya and Farah waited outside the library for three days. at the fourth day, a younger guy walked in — tall, lean, with eyes that reflected Farah’s. She gasped. “Ayaan?” but Zoya held her again. “allow me move first.” Interior, Zoya approached the boy. “hello. I’m making a film on misplaced testimonies. am i able to ask you something?” The boy seemed up. His voice turned into tender. “I’m no longer misplaced. I simply don’t belong.”

Zoya showed him a photograph of Ayaan as a toddler. The boy stared at it. His eyes welled up. “I take into account this kite,” he whispered. “It tore inside the wind.”

Zoya requested, “Why didn’t you return?”

He appeared away. “because I wasn’t presupposed to live on.”

Flashback: 2015.

Ayaan had chased the kite into an alley in which guys had been arguing. considered one of them panicked and shoved Ayaan. He hit his head and collapsed. The guys notion he become lifeless. They buried him in rubble and fled.

But Ayaan awoke hours later, injured and on my own. A kind antique guy found him and took him to Turbat. Ayaan had misplaced his reminiscence for months. by the point it again, he feared returning could reopen wounds — or worse, positioned his mother in danger.

So he stayed hidden. Grew up quietly. discovered to live with out being discovered.

Zoya back to Farah. “It’s him. however he’s scared.”

Farah didn’t wait. She walked into the library, tears streaming. “Ayaan, it’s me. Your mother.”

The boy stood frozen. Then slowly, he whispered, “Mama?”

They embraced — a hug ten years in the making. No words. just Jobs.

Epilogue:

Ayaan didn’t return to Karachi. but he stayed in touch. Farah visited him every month. Zoya published the tale anonymously, respecting Ayaan’s privacy.

The article went viral: “Missing But Not gone — A mother’s Faith That Her Son.”

It sparked a motion. hundreds of families reopened cold cases. some discovered closure. some located hope.

And Farah? She stopped publishing commercials. Now, every yr on Ayaan’s birthday, she sends him a single message:

“You’re alive. And that’s enough for me.”