10th November, 2019

That feeling—as if your world is falling apart, crumbling to pieces, and you're utterly helpless—is exactly what Shumail was experiencing in that moment.

With every ticking second, Shumail's heartbeat grew faster. Cradling the lifeless body of his wife in his arms as he sat in the car, rushing towards the hospital, he felt like the ground beneath his feet was giving way. His forehead was slick with sweat, and his breathing was ragged. But despite his deep-rooted fear of blood and accidents—scars left from his parents' tragic demise—he forced himself to focus on Eram, who lay covered in blood.

It was only now, holding her close, that he realized she was burning with fever. He kept tapping her cheeks gently, trying to keep her conscious, whispering to her that he was there.

“Eram, please open your eyes,” he begged, his voice trembling. “Look, I’m back. I’m not going to leave again.” His voice was laced with guilt, apology, and a deep fear of losing her. His hands trembled. He didn’t know what else to do to bring her back to consciousness.

Having her limp, bloodied body in his arms made one thing painfully clear—he couldn't lose her.

No matter how she had entered his life, no matter the circumstances, despite everything they'd endured—she held a space in his heart. It beat for her.

“Shumail...” came a faint whisper. He immediately leaned in closer, his full attention on her. She was bleeding heavily, and he was doing everything he could to stop it, but nothing seemed to work.

“I’m here,” he said softly, brushing her hair back and caressing her head. Her hijab was soaked in blood and disheveled. “I’m right here. Keep talking to me. Don’t close your eyes.”

“Shumail...” He’d never imagined she’d say his name like this—weak, broken, and in pain. That faint utterance of his name tore at his heart, leaving him shattered.

“Yes, I’m here. Keep talking to me. We’re almost at the hospital,” he whispered gently, desperate to keep her conscious.

A groan of pain escaped her lips as tears rolled down the sides of her eyes, disappearing into her hair. “It hurts,” she whispered.

“I know, but just hold on a little longer. We’re almost there.”

“Here.” Her trembling hand moved slightly, her fingers pointing to her chest. That simple gesture made Shumail feel as if he’d been struck by lightning. Whatever she was trying to say, he couldn't bear to hear it.

“Don’t speak,” he whispered, pressing his scarf to the wound on her head. “Don’t tire yourself. Just stay calm.”

“Please...” It took all her strength to speak, though the physical pain paled in comparison to the agony in her heart. “Please don’t leave me...” Her eyelids drooped again, and she struggled to keep them open.

“I’m not going to leave you. I promise,” Shumail vowed, his voice earnest and low. “Don’t speak. Just keep your eyes on me. Don’t close them.”

“Please drive quickly,” he pleaded to the driver again, panic edging into his voice.

“If this is my fate... if this is how I have to say goodbye to you, then please...” Her voice cracked, turning into sobs that became groans of pain. “Please forgive me—for everything I did, for all the hurt I caused. Please...” She tried to lift her hand to touch his face, but her strength failed her, and her hand fell.

“Please...” The word slipped out in a faint breath before her eyes closed and she fell unconscious again.

At that exact moment, the car screeched to a halt in front of the hospital. Shumail didn’t waste a second. He flung the door open, scooped her into his arms, and rushed inside.

A stretcher was brought immediately. He carefully placed her on it as the nurses wheeled her into the emergency unit. He held her hand tightly, running alongside the stretcher, calling out for a doctor, but he was forced to stop as they pushed her into the ICU.

The red light outside switched on—indicating she was being operated on—and Shumail stood frozen, staring blankly ahead, unsure how to process any of it.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and despair.

Shumail sat in the emergency waiting area, blood on his sleeves, hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were chalk white. He could still feel the faintest weight of her body in his arms. Could still hear her whisper his name like it was a benediction—or a goodbye.

He hated how familiar this felt.

A white light overhead flickered. The receptionist murmured something to a nurse. Somewhere down the corridor, someone sobbed.

And in the middle of it all, Shumail felt like a ghost. A sharp-suited, emotionally wrecked ghost with a heartbeat loud enough to drown cities.

With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone and dialed Aahil.

Aahil picked up immediately. “Shumail? Why did you hang up earlier? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I’m... at the hospital,” Shumail said slowly.

“What?! What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Eram...” he trailed off, wiping a shaky hand over his face, trying to keep his voice steady. “She... she got into an accident. I brought her here. They’re operating on her right now.”

“What?! What kind of accident? How bad is it? Why are you being so quiet? Say something, idiot!”

“She was... she was lifeless in my arms. She lost so much blood,” Shumail’s voice cracked. “I don’t know what to do, Aahil.”

“Calm down,” Aahil said quickly. “Take deep breaths. I’m on my way. Just keep praying. She’ll be fine, In Sha Allah.”

Shumail ended the call and slumped into a chair outside the ICU, burying his face in his hands.

Each second dragged like an eternity. His eyes kept darting to the ICU door, hoping to see a doctor walk out—but the red light stayed on, unchanging. His mind spun with terrifying thoughts. He couldn’t stop praying, pleading with Allah to save her.

One year. They’d spent one whole year apart—because of one decision he made. Whether it was the right one or not, he didn’t know. But was this really how they were fated to meet again? Through tragedy?

Yes, he was angry with her. But he’d never wanted her to suffer. Never wanted this.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps and looked up to see his friends rushing toward him. He immediately stood up and wrapped his arms around Zaid, clutching him tightly. The way he held on revealed how shaken and broken he truly was.

“I never wanted her to die,” he choked out. “I never wished anything bad for her. I was just... angry.”

“We know,” Zaid said gently, rubbing his back.

“I didn’t want her to end up like this. I didn’t want this,” Shumail repeated, his voice breaking.

“She’ll be fine, Shumail. Just stay strong,” Zaid whispered.

Before anyone could say more, the red light finally switched off. The doors opened, and a doctor stepped out.

“Who’s the family?” the doctor asked.

Shumail hesitated for a moment before replying, “That’s me. I’m her husband.”

“She lost a lot of blood. Several ribs are fractured, and her right arm is broken. It was a complicated case, but we managed to save her.”

Shumail exhaled shakily, whispering Alhamdulillah in relief.

“But...” the doctor added.

“But what?” Shahmeer asked anxiously.

“She won’t be able to walk—temporarily,” the doctor said.

“What?! Why?” Shumail asked, stunned. “What happened to her legs?”

“The impact was severe. Had she not been brought in time, she could have lost the ability to walk permanently. Her legs will need time to heal. Any pressure on them right now would worsen the damage.”

“Can we see her?” Aahil asked when Shumail remained frozen.

“She’s still unconscious. We’ll keep her in intensive care overnight. Nothing can be said for certain. Let’s hope for the best,” the doctor said before walking away.

Shumail stood rooted to the spot, struggling to process the news.

She can’t walk?

“You should go in,” Zaid encouraged softly. Shumail nodded and slowly walked toward the room. His gaze remained fixed on the floor. He didn’t dare look up.

But as he neared her bed, he finally lifted his eyes.

There she was—unconscious, fragile, bruised. Her right arm was casted, her head bandaged, wires monitoring her vitals. Her hair was scattered across the pillow, her face pale and lifeless.

He pulled a chair closer and sat down beside her. Slowly, he reached out and took her hand, caressing it with his thumb.

“Why are you always so reckless?” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. He held her hand between both of his and rested his cheek against it.

He had no more words.

A knock sounded, and the door opened. Shahmeer stood at the threshold.

“You okay?” he asked. Shumail nodded.

“Let her rest. Come with me. Let’s get you changed. Your clothes are soaked in blood.”

Shumail stood up silently. As he reached the door, he paused. “Zain might be worried. Send someone to her parents’ house to bring him here.”

Shahmeer nodded.

“Where’s Aahil and Zaid?” Shumail asked.

“They went to pray Fajr. They’ll stay with her until we return.”

Shumail turned one last time to look at her sleeping form. Then, he closed the door behind him and walked away.

Assalamualaikum guys!

How have you been doing?
I wasn't well and that is why the update has been delayed for so long and I'm sorry for that :(

Anyways better late than never...so here I am :D

What do you think he will do next?

Lemme know in the comments section ^_^

Until next time....Fi Amanillah!