The Price of a Good Son: Parental Neglect and Childhood Trauma _(Part 2)
- Umm-e-Sidrah

- Sep 6
- 12 min read
Updated: Nov 1
Whoever does not show mercy to people, Allah Almighty does not show mercy to him. Sahih Al-Bukhari-7376
Rohaan portrays a character with childhood trauma and parental neglect. He faces toxic relatives and comparisons, leading to anxiety and restlessness. Eventually deciding to take revenge.
As you’ve read before, Rohaan’s childhood was full of struggles, and now his journey into adulthood had already begun.
Before starting Part 2, I want to ask you some questions.
Do you think Rohaan's character is portrayed as narcissistic?
Do you think he is the villain? Or do you believe that he is justified because of his past?
Why do children become emotionally numb?
Build your answer as you read the story, our dear readers.
Write your answer in the comment section below.
A Final Gaze: The Secret Plea in the Dying Eyes
Five years later, he received a phone call from his uncle’s son, Azlaan. His voice was shaking with fear, trembling as he spoke of a storm. And then, when Azlaan finally said what he had to say, it shook Rohaan deep inside. It was the news he had been waiting for all these years. And even though it meant facing his enemy, he had no choice but to go.

He packed his bags and went home. But now, Rohaan was no longer the same person he used to be. His fearless eyes, his anger, his way of walking, his tone filled with confidence, everything about him had changed. He carried a strength that was never a part of him before.
At the hospital, his uncle lay on the bed, counting his last breaths. Family members stood around, their faces heavy with grief, knowing their loved one was slipping away. Rohaan, however, stood calmly by his uncle’s side.
Their eyes met. In that silent gaze, Rohaan said a lot without speaking. Tears filled his uncle’s eyes, tears of regret, of guilt. The dying man's eyes had a message only Rohaan could understand.
Death is strange. It can break down the pride of even the most powerful, like Pharaoh, and force them to seek forgiveness.
His uncle’s lips moved slightly, but no words came out. His last thoughts, his confessions, stayed trapped in his heart.
A massive stroke had paralyzed him. The sudden shock of losing his home had been too much to bear. But behind it, there was something more, a guilt he was trying to express through his eyes. Yet Rohaan wasn’t ready to forgive. He turned away in cold hatred.
Moments later, his uncle’s breathing grew heavy. His chest stopped rising. He was gone. The family broke down in tears, their cries echoing through the hospital. To them, he was deeply loved, someone they couldn’t imagine losing. Everyone’s eyes filled with grief, except Rohaan's. He stood like a stone. No sadness, no relief.
Mask Of Relation: The Debt of the Past

Just a storm inside him, a conflict that words couldn’t explain. Rohaan was staring blankly at the wall when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see his father’s tired, teary eyes.
“Your uncle loved you very much,” his father said softly. “Everything you are today is because of him. Repay his kindness. Take care of his funeral. It is the best way to settle our debt to him,” he added.
Rohaan said nothing.
In silence, he picked up a pen and wrote a large check. He handed it to his cousin, Azlaan. Seeing this, Rohaan’s father felt a surge of love for his son. His heart swelled with pride. Is this the same boy who was so rebellious and disobedient? he thought. And now he obeys without a single question. He has changed so much. He looked at Rohaan’s mother.
“Our son has really grown up,” he whispered.
She nodded, watching Rohaan closely. She believed his quietness was a sign of his good character. In the busy days that followed, neither parent asked Rohaan how he was. They didn’t wonder why he never visited all these years, or if he had missed them. They didn’t feel they needed to ask, because their son was finally listening. He was handling everything, the food, the rituals, all the arrangements.
Relatives and guests praised Rohaan to his parents. They were astonished.
“Is this the same Rohaan?” they asked. “The one we always heard was so rude? He seems like a different person entirely.”
The Consequences of Parental Neglect and Childhood Trauma.
A week passed. Rohaan was prepared to return to his life. The night before he left, his cousin Azlaan crept into his room. Before Rohaan could even process what was happening, Azlaan began to beg.
“Please, Rohaan, you have to help me,” Azlaan pleaded. “I lost our house. The mafia took it and sold it.” Azlaan’s face was pale.
He confessed it was all his fault. His gambling and drug addiction had destroyed everything. He had used the house’s deed as a bet in a game. When Azlaan’s father discovered his son’s illegal life, the shock was too much. The news killed him. Azlaan knew Rohaan was powerful now. He knew Rohaan could fix this with one phone call.
Rohaan stared at the man he had been forced to admire his whole life. His mother always said, “Be like Azlan.” He was tired of hearing about Azlaan’s so-called goodness. Now, Rohaan thought, it is time for my revenge.
Azlan bowed his head, voice trembling as if weighed down by shame, "My father was so good to you," he whispered, almost pleading. "He did so many favors for your family. Please..."
For a moment, he seemed small - desperate, humiliated.
But then, as he lifted his gaze, the mask cracked. His eyes gleamed, sharp and calculating, a predator behind the trembling voice.
A smirk of his mouth betrayed him - not submission, but control.
And when he spoke again, the humility had vanished, replaced by cruelty. "Yes... for his sake. You owe me. Don't you?"
That was the last straw.
Rohaan stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Azlaan - cold as steel, yet wild with a fury that burned beneath. Azlaan flinched, the strength in those eyes alone enough to break his pretense. Then, Rohaan spat on his cousin's face.
"Get out," he hissed. " I won't give a single cent to a beggar like you. And never... ever... speak your dead father's name again. That man -" He stopped, his chest rising fast, his eyes speaking the rage his lips could not.
Azlan stumbled back, unable to meet that gaze. "He... he hasn't changed at all," he whispered.
But before he could say another word, Rohaan shoved him out the door and slammed it shut. For a moment, Rohaan felt calm. He felt powerful. But the feeling was brief. Suddenly, his heart began to race. The room started to spin. He stumbled to his bed, his whole body shaking. He couldn’t catch his breath. A crushing weight pressed down on his chest.
Gasping, he fumbled in his drawer. His hands trembled as he found the small bottle of pills. He swallowed one, praying for it to work. “Oh Allah,” he whispered, sinking to the floor. Slowly, very slowly, he felt his breathing ease. The life crept back into his limbs. He was safe, for now. But he was alone. He couldn't stand to be in that place anymore, a place where he had no one who was truly his.
Everyone there just kept repeating the same old tune about repaying kindness with kindness. Without telling a soul, he left home. He had already booked his flight; after all, that single penny was the only thing that was truly his. The parental neglect and childhood trauma, the carelessness, and utter coldness from his parents were eating him alive. The more he thought about it, the further he spiraled down a dark path.
He was young and imposing. Money had polished his rough edges, but he was never destined to be a good man. His wealth came from dirty money. Every day, a new girlfriend. Beautiful girls fluttered around him like moths to a flame. And friends… well, he had them, but they were only his buddies because of his cash and status.
In society, he had a name: "Rohaan Builders." That’s precisely why Azlaan had come to him, begging for help. Because in his own world, he was the king. Everyone called him "King Rohaan" because making a name for yourself that fast isn't easy. This Rohaan stayed busy all day, surrounded by liars and fakes. But there came a moment every night when he grew restless and uneasy.
A voice from deep inside would shake him, telling him to stop, to not walk further down this path of destruction. "You'll gain nothing from drowning in this darkness. What is it you even want? The one whose life you ruined is already gone. You've already destroyed him…"
Yes, Rohaan himself was responsible for that uncle's ruin. Once, one of his men informed him about Azlaan's partying, his drug use, and his gambling. Rohaan could ignore most things, but he kept tabs on every little thing happening at his uncle's house, waiting for the perfect moment to get revenge. This news sent his mind soaring; his heart turned cold with satisfaction, hearing that Azlaan was on a path to self-destruction. He secretly played an indirect game, luring Azlaan in with greed.
And just like that, the foolish Azlaan sank deeper and deeper into the swamp until he was drowning in debt.
On Rohaan's advice, his man told Azlaan, "If you want to clear this debt, you need to arrange the money, fast."
Azlaan was panicking. They asked him, "Do you own your house?"
He said, "It's in my father's name."
They coaxed him gently, "No problem. Just hand over the property papers as collateral until you can arrange the money."
Desperate, Azlaan secretly did exactly that. Every detail was being relayed to Rohaan over the phone. Thrilled with a sense of victory, Rohaan said, "Yes! Now the camel is under the mountain."
Azlaan, now a debtor of millions, was losing his mind. How could he arrange such a huge amount? Rohaan played his final card, knowing the secret couldn't be kept forever.
One day, an anonymous call ruined everything: "Your son has lost millions gambling. Your house is now in our possession. You must vacate it today."
The horrific news was too much for the uncle to bear, and he had a heart attack. Rohaan had stolen his roof from over his head. Rohaan should have felt at peace now, so why was this victory making him even more anxious? When he had pushed Azlaan away, why did he feel like someone was displeased with him? A voice in the dead of night echoed in his heart. Who was it that disapproved of all this? This voice wasn't his mother's, his father's, or any elder's. It wasn't a memory from childhood.
This silent voice resonated within him, like the faint flicker of a lamp, burning slowly, waking him up. But in the morning light, he would forget it all.
The Curse was spoken - Before Rohaan's wall of Ice Shattered:
One evening, he was feeling heavy-hearted when a servant announced the arrival of a visitor. He was startled. "Who is it?" he asked, as he had canceled all his meetings for the day.
The servant said, "An older man and woman." He quickly got up and checked the camera feed. His parents were standing there. He muttered to himself, "How did these two get here? Who gave them the address?"

Regardless, he had no choice but to let them into the house. His mother and father looked around his luxurious mansion in sheer amazement. He came down the stairs in his sleeping gown and velvet slippers, trying to keep his emotions in check as he entered the drawing-room. If his parents had ever hugged him with love, he might have instinctively embraced them. But instead, he stood at a distance, trying to read their faces with a questioning look.
After a moment, his father cleared his throat and got to the point. "You must be wondering how we managed to find our way here. You didn't even think your parents were worthy of an invitation to your mansion."
The complaints had begun. His mother sighed with regret and started,
"Son, is this the upbringing we gave you? Was there some lack in our advice or our parenting? We gave you every luxury in the world. We got you an education at the most expensive, elite boarding school in the country. We are still indebted to your uncle, a righteous man who supported our family without ever throwing it in our faces. He treated you like his own son, paid for your education. And you became the reason for his death!"
"Oh," escaped his lips. So that's what this is about, he thought to himself. But his lips remained sealed.
His mother said, "It pains me greatly to say this, but we are the parents of a murderer. You have made your father bow his head in shame. We can't show our faces anywhere. It would have been better if I had strangled you with my own hands when you were a child. You are a stain on our family, a family whose honor everyone respected. You are a disgrace!"
His mother broke down crying. She was speaking on behalf of his father, who had always fiercely defended his uncle. Rohaan took a deep breath and, for the first time, very deliberately chose his words.
"Who told you all this? Azlaan?" A flush of color rose on his father's face. His mother couldn't even look at him, as if her son had finally broken all ties.
His father said, "Yes, Azlaan told us. And he was right to tell us everything! Your dark deeds, your business, your illegal work. When he came to you for help, how could you shove him out of your office? What do you have to be so proud of? What is this fire of hatred that has been consuming you since childhood?"-
-"My other children are nothing like you! You've committed the ultimate sin in this fire of yours, and you still didn't find peace? Then you wanted to destroy the offspring of that righteous man, too? You have fallen below the level of humanity. Shame on you! And shame on us for giving birth to a child like you!"-
-"You call yourself a Muslim, yet you gamble, you fornicate, you earn haram money! You've nurtured every evil within yourself and become a devil, a companion of Satan! A good, honorable man who tried to reform you, who gave you a good upbringing and a bright future, who didn't even pay attention to his own children for your sake, who poured money on you like water, and you made him homeless!"-
-"Is this what that education taught you? It's true what they say: you can't straighten a dog's tail. An animal, even with a good polish, can never become a good man."
His father kept going. Rohaan stood there, completely emotionless. The terrible thing that had happened, the thing that had killed his soul, had left him hollow. He was a shell, numb to the pain he had caused and the pain being hurled at him. He had shut down to survive.
But then, his mother said, "That Azlaan is more our real son than you could ever be."
It was like a switch flipped. It was as if someone had woken up a sleeping child. The child Rohaan, whom he had suffocated and buried under the persona of 'Builder Rohaan' who did whatever he wanted, was jolted awake by his mother's one sentence. That child's pain suddenly flared to life. The problem wasn't Azlaan. It wasn't even the uncle. The problem wasn't his parents constantly comparing him to others.
The real, deep problem was this: his parents had blindly believed every single story Azlaan told them, but they had never once asked their own son a single question. They yelled questions in anger, but they had never asked with any belief in him. They never hugged him, but if only they had said with even a shred of belief,
"Son, we know you couldn't do this. That's why we've come all this way to ask you ourselves, to hear from you if what Azlaan said is true."

If only they had said something, shown some feeling, like, "You are our child. Where have you gone astray?" A slap would have been better, but a slap born from trust. A slap that said,
"We can't believe what anybody says. We can't believe our child could do this."
But instead, they destroyed the last remaining shreds of his trust. They ripped his faith to pieces. And they did it by waking up his deepest childhood trauma, saying,
"We would have been prouder if we had given birth to Azlaan instead of you."
They had accused him his whole life for things he hadn't even done back then. But now, when he had actually done something terrible in full consciousness, though he never intended to kill, only to shock and punish the uncle for the crime of ruining his childhood and his youth, for forcing him to become this heartless, terrible person, they were heaping on the blame. They were giving him the punishment for the crime he had actually committed, but it was the lifetime of unfair blame that made this final accusation so devastating. It broke the dam holding back a lifetime of hurt...
The beloved messenger of Allah says
Do not supplicate against (Curse) yourselves, nor against your children, nor against your wealth, lest it coincide with a time when Allah grants what you ask. Sahih Muslim Book of zuhd, hadith 3014
So my loving people,
Will Rohaan be affected by his parents' curse?
Will Rohaan finally take revenge on his parents, or something even more shocking will happen?
To find out, don't miss the next part.
جَزَاكُمُ اللهُ خَيْرًا كَثِيْرًا







Yes I like
Can't wait for next part
I would simply rush out and never meet them😭😭😭
Never ever in my life, I want parents like them😭😭😭
Very heart warming & touching story.