10th Jan, 2020

The drive back to Shumail’s house was painfully silent.

Shahmeer didn’t speak much, sensing the turmoil bubbling beneath Shumail’s calm exterior. Every few minutes, Shumail would glance down at his blood-stained clothes—Eram’s blood. The scent still lingered on his hands, thick and metallic. It was haunting.

“She was burning with fever too,” Shumail mumbled, as if trying to process what had just happened. “I should’ve… I should’ve noticed. I should’ve been there earlier.”

“Stop, Shumail. Stop blaming yourself. You got to her in time. You saved her,” Shahmeer said firmly, pulling into the driveway.

Shumail didn’t respond. He got out of the car, walked inside, and headed straight to his room. He peeled the bloodied shirt off his body and stood in the shower fully clothed, letting the icy water wash over him like a penance.

When he came out, clean but hollow-eyed, Shahmeer was waiting with a fresh set of clothes. “We can go back as soon as you’re ready.”

Shumail nodded, toweling off his wet hair silently.

Before they left again, Shumail picked up a small, folded note from his nightstand—Eram's handwriting from the time they separated. He hadn’t thrown it away, not even after a year. He slipped it into his wallet.

The moment Shumail stepped out of the elevator with Shahmeer, as it dinged open on the 4th floor of the hospital, his eyes immediately found Zain, who was stepping out of the room where they had shifted Eram. Their eyes met, and Shumail offered him a soft smile.

The moment Zain saw him, his face lit up with pure joy. Without hesitation, he broke into a run and crashed into Shumail's arms, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist in a desperate hug.

“What happened to Aapi, Bhaijaan?” Zain asked, his voice trembling with fear.

Shumail slowly placed his arms around the boy’s shoulders, gently returning the hug. “She’ll be fine. Don’t worry,” he said softly, caressing Zain’s back in an attempt to soothe him.

Zain pulled back slightly, wiping away the tears that had slipped down his cheeks. He looked up to meet Shumail’s eyes, and Shumail held his gaze with a quiet tenderness.

“Your Aapi is strong. She’ll regain consciousness soon, In Sha Allah.”

“Aapi missed you so much. She should wake up and see that you’re finally back,” Zain said with a small smile, hope flickering in his eyes.

Shumail had no words. Whether she missed him or not—he didn’t want to care anymore. It shouldn't matter. Yet somehow, it still did.

He simply nodded in understanding and placed a hand on Zain’s back as they both walked to the chairs placed outside the room. Shahmeer silently followed behind them. When they approached Zaid and Aahil, Zaid immediately stood up to offer his seat to Shumail, but he declined with a shake of his head. Instead, he leaned against the wall, keeping his eyes fixed on Eram through the small glass window in the door.

“What did the doctors say?” Shumail heard Shahmeer ask Aahil.

“They said she should gain consciousness soon... but they’re not sure. Her body isn’t responding well to the medication,” Aahil replied, his voice low.

Time passed with agonizing slowness, yet the hours melted into each other until evening arrived. Despite the doctors’ best efforts, Eram remained unconscious. Her body had weakened, and the severe loss of blood during the accident made it dangerous to administer heavier medications.

All they could do now was wait—and pray.

Zain remained glued to Shumail’s side, unwilling to move even an inch away from him. Shumail stayed silent for the most part, only speaking when directly addressed. Zain looked visibly scared—too young to witness his sister in such a fragile state. He sat quietly beside Shumail, his body still, his emotions guarded, while Shumail was lost in the whirlpool of his thoughts.

A while later, Shumail glanced at his side and found Zain fast asleep, his head resting uncomfortably against the wall. Looking around, he realized his friends had disappeared. He couldn’t remember when they left—he had been too lost in his mind.

Shaking his head, he stepped forward and carefully scooped Zain into his arms. He entered the hospital room quietly and placed the boy gently on the couch, adjusting him into a more comfortable position. Then, as he turned around, his gaze landed on Eram—still unmoving, still lying in the same position she had been since midnight.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion clinging to him, and walked toward the attached washroom to freshen up and perform wudhu. When he came out, he spared one last look at the two sleeping figures before silently slipping out of the room and heading toward the hospital’s prayer area for Isha.

His mind was anything but calm. A storm brewed within him—memories, regrets, fear, and longing all clashing at once. He desperately wanted her to regain consciousness, but the thought of facing her again twisted his insides. A part of him was suffocating under the weight of what-ifs and unspoken truths. His heart raced painfully, fear gnawing at him from within.

It had been over a year since he had seen her, and now... she was lying there like that. Was he supposed to be angry? Hurt? Broken? He felt all of it—and none of it—at once. The betrayal still stung, but her fragile form haunted his vision. He didn’t know what he should feel anymore.

“Mom sent food for you,” Zaid said, appearing beside him when he walked out of the prayer room.

“And you guys? I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask if you had lunch or dinner,” Shumail said, guilt dripping from his voice.

Zaid playfully smacked the back of his head. “Don’t be stupid. Come on, let’s eat.” He tugged Shumail along to the hospital cafeteria.

It was quiet—the usual hospital rush had thinned out at night. The peaceful silence felt oddly comforting to Shumail, a stark contrast to his old self who had once hated quiet. Maybe heartbreak changes people in ways time alone never could.

They made their way to the last table tucked in the corner and sat down. Zaid began unpacking the food while Shumail sat motionless, his eyes lost in the view outside the window.

“Shumail?” Zaid called gently. Shumail turned his head, eyebrows raised slightly.

“You know it’s not healthy to bottle everything up, right? It’s eating you from the inside. Let it out,” Zaid urged, watching him closely.

Shumail let out a tired sigh. His shoulders sagged as if the weight of everything had finally become too much to carry.

“What should I let out?” he asked, voice laced with quiet anguish. “That even after knowing she came into my life only to betray me, I married her? That even when I knew I shouldn't fall for her, I did? That a man who runs an entire business empire couldn't manage his own life? What exactly should I let out, Zaid?”

Zaid’s heart twisted at his friend’s words. The raw pain behind them was unmistakable.

“I won’t say I understand what you’re going through. I won’t feed you empty words. But I don’t want to see you like this anymore. I miss the old Shumail.”

“He’s gone,” Shumail replied with a bitter chuckle. “Lost somewhere in the past.”

“Why do I have to go through this?” he asked quietly, more to himself than to Zaid.

Zaid stood up suddenly and embraced him without a word. Shumail instantly returned the hug, holding on tightly, burying his face in Zaid’s shoulder. His grip was desperate—as if letting go would mean crumbling apart completely.

“Have faith in Allah’s plans,” Zaid whispered. “He doesn’t make mistakes. He’s written something beautiful for you—you just have to hold on. Have sabr.”

Shumail held back the tears, forcing himself to stay composed. He wiped away a lone tear before it could fall and pulled back.

“I’m fine now. Thanks.”

“Instead of thanks... can you give me my old Shumail back?” Zaid asked, eyes hopeful.

Shumail offered a small smile in return—broken, yet sincere. Zaid didn’t need more than that to understand just how deep the wounds ran.

The one who gives you the scar is the only one who can heal it, Zaid thought to himself.

They finished their dinner in silence and headed back upstairs. As they reached the 4th floor, Shumail saw Aahil and Shahmeer waiting outside the room. When they noticed Zaid and Shumail approaching, a silent conversation passed between the three friends.

Shumail shook his head at their obvious concern. A faint smile touched his lips—it felt good to be cared for.

“Did the doctors say anything while I was gone?” he asked.

They shook their heads.

He turned to Zain. “Did you eat?”

“Shahmeer bhai took me to his house for dinner,” Zain replied with a smile as Shahmeer ruffled his hair affectionately.

“You should go in and check on her,” Aahil said gently.

Shumail hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked toward the room. His hand rested on the doorknob as he debated whether he was ready.

He took a breath, steeled himself, and slid the door open. Quietly stepping inside, he closed it behind him.

He was still at the threshold when his eyes landed on the figure lying on the bed.

Eram was awake.

Her gaze moved slowly across the room, taking in her surroundings. A hand went to her temple as she winced from the pounding headache.

Shumail stood frozen. He couldn’t move. Every emotion he had buried came crashing into him at once.

She was finally awake after more than twelve hours.

He didn’t know how she would react upon seeing him. He didn’t even know how he was supposed to feel. But his heart thudded painfully against his ribs.

Before he could make a sound, her eyes found him.

And in that charged silence, their gazes locked—two people with a world of pain between them—frozen in a moment that felt like the edge of something about to break.

Assalamualaikum!

Everyone's doing great right?

How was the chap?

I'm warning you guys. The coming chaps will be something which you would be loving and which will give you the feeling of butterflies dancing in your stomach! You've been warned! ;)

I was of the idea that I'll finish WYCA first and then will continue with DS but anyways I'll keep updating DS too, and sorry for such a late update!

Chapter dedicated to the sweetest Gulabisehar

Until next time....Fee Amanillah!