➫ laya

“Your father—my God, you were his pride and joy. He came home from work to feed you every lunchtime, even if it meant he barely got a chance to eat his own meal. He rocked you to sleep at night. He clipped your tiny nails so carefully that you laughed when he did it. I could not believe he ever thought he would be a bad parent.

You were my world. But to your father, Salahudin? You were the solar system. Bigger. The universe itself. “He will be a neurosurgeon,” your father said. “He will be a writer. He will be an architect.”
― Sabaa Tahir, All My Rage