Written by: Ameer Ali
In a quiet village wrapped in hills and silence, there lived an old woman named Layla. Every night, for over forty years, she lit a lantern and placed it in her window. The villagers often asked her why.
She would smile gently and say, “It’s for my son. So he knows the way home.”
Her son, Kareem, had gone missing in the war decades ago. No letter ever came. No body returned. Just absence.
Neighbors pitied her—some called her hopeful, others called her lost. But Layla kept lighting that lantern, through storms, power cuts, and old age.
One winter night, a traveler stopped in front of her house, his eyes wide with recognition.
He was Kareem’s friend. He held a torn photograph and whispered, “He spoke of this light. Said it gave him peace, even in the dark.”
Layla’s lantern hadn’t brought her son back—but it had lit the world for someone who carried his memory.
And that was enough.
