In the heart of a peaceful town nestled between green hills, the sound of sewing filled a small wooden cottage. Hassan sat by the window, gently stitching a ball from soft blue fabric. The afternoon light spilled across the room, dancing on the floorboards as the thread moved in and out with calm precision.
In the kitchen, Maryam prepared lunch, the scent of warm bread and herbs filling the air. Outside, their son Badr ran barefoot through the grass, chasing the wind and laughing with the birds.
Hassan tied off the final knot, examining the ball with quiet pride. It wasn't just a gift — it was a memory stitched with love. He placed it carefully on the shelf, hidden just enough to spark surprise. Then he called out:
"Badr! Come wash up, lunch is ready!"
The boy rushed inside, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. As he entered the room, he caught sight of the ball on the shelf. His laughter paused, replaced by a glow of wonder.
"For me?" he asked.
Hassan smiled and nodded.
After lunch, the small family stepped outside together. The breeze was gentle, and the sky stretched endlessly above. Badr held his new ball close, spinning and tossing it in joy.
And as the sun warmed their faces, Hassan closed his eyes for a moment and made a silent wish:
Let this day never end.