It was early evening.
The winter sun had softened, leaving behind a pale gold sky over their house in Istanbul. The Farooqi family sat in the lawn for tea, a habit they rarely missed.

But today, even the tea had gone cold.
Maliha hadn’t joined them. She remained upstairs in her room, claiming she was tired. No one forced her.

At the garden table, Mr. Farooqi stirred his cup absently. Mrs. Farooqi sat beside him, her gaze distant. Rehman leaned back in his chair, watching the fading light.

“You think she has forgotten him?” Rehman finally asked quietly.

He didn’t need to say the name.
They all knew.
Aarib.

Mrs. Farooqi sighed. “I think so. Or at least… she’s trying.”

Mr. Farooqi took a slow sip of tea. “There’s still something that troubles her,” he said thoughtfully. “I just hope it isn’t him.”

“Six months,” Mrs. Farooqi replied gently. “She stayed away for six months. She came back on her own. That means she’s healing. She’s trying to move on.”

Rehman nodded slowly. “We hope so.”

“InshaAllah,” Mr. Farooqi murmured.

At that exact moment, Rehman’s phone rang.
The sound felt unusually loud in the quiet lawn.
He glanced at the screen and frowned.

“Hikmat?” he muttered under his breath. “Why is Aarib’s friend calling me?”

He answered.

“Marhaba,” came Hikmat’s voice from the other end, tense.

“Marhaba. Everything okay?” Rehman asked directly, sensing something was wrong.

There was a brief pause.

“Roshaane got into an accident,” Hikmat said.

Rehman straightened instantly. “What?”

“She was hit by a car. There was surgery. She’s in the ICU now.” Hikmat’s voice was controlled, but urgency bled through it. “Aarib’s family is not here. They’re far away. He’s alone. He needs you, he needs family.”

Rehman’s expression changed completely.
“How did this happen?”

“It happened suddenly while she was crossing the road. I’m sending you the hospital name. Please come. Whatever happened before… right now they need you.”

The line disconnected.

Rehman lowered the phone slowly.

His parents were already watching him anxiously
“What happened?” Mrs. Farooqi asked, her voice tight.

He swallowed.

“Roshaane got into an accident. She’s in ICU.”
The words hit like a blow.

For months, there had been distance.
Ever since Roshaane married Aarib while he had been engaged to Maliha, Saba Farooqi, Aarib and Roshaane’s phuphu, had felt deeply offended. It had felt like her daughter’s happiness had been taken away.

And in that hurt, they had stepped back.
No visits. No reconciliation. Only silence.
But in this moment, all that pride felt meaningless. Mrs. Farooqi’s eyes filled instantly.

“Ya Allah…” she whispered, her hand trembling against the table.

Mr. Farooqi stood up at once. “We’re going.”

Rehman nodded firmly. “Hikmat said Aarib is alone. He must be terrified. ”

Upstairs, unaware of the storm unfolding below, Maliha stood by her window. Moments later, her mother’s voice called her name, urgent, shaken.
And before the evening could settle into night, old wounds were forced to open again.

Because sometimes, blood ties pull stronger than wounded pride.

------

Upstairs, Maliha stood near the window of her room, her fingers lightly brushing the curtain aside. The evening lights of Istanbul shimmered in the distance. She had changed into something comfortable and was trying to quiet her restless thoughts when she heard hurried footsteps in the corridor.

A soft knock followed but it wasn’t calm.

“Maliha?” her mother’s voice trembled slightly.

Maliha turned immediately and opened the door.
One look at Mrs. Farooqi’s face made her heart drop.

“Ammi what happened?”

Mrs. Farooqi stepped inside, holding her daughter’s hands. “Roshaane has met with an accident.”

For a second, the words didn’t register.

“Accident?” Maliha repeated faintly.

“She was hit by a car. She’s in the hospital. In ICU.”

The room felt smaller.

Maliha’s grip on her mother’s hands tightened. “Is she…?” She couldn’t complete the sentence.

“She’s alive,” Mrs. Farooqi quickly assured her.

“Surgery has been done. But she hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”

Maliha’s mind spun.

Roshaane.
In ICU.
And Aarib…

A strange wave of emotions rose within her. It was shock, fear, something else she refused to name.

“We’re leaving right now,” her mother said gently.

“If you want to come then change quickly and come down stairs.”

Maliha nodded silently. She didn’t argue.
Within minutes, the Farooqi family gathered near the front door. Rehman opened the car.The drive felt unbearably long.No one spoke much.

Mrs. Saba Farooqi quietly recited prayers under her breath. Mr. Farooqi stared straight ahead. Rehman drove faster than usual, tension clear in his jaw.  Maliha sat in the back seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
She remembered the last time she had seen Roshaane smiling, soft-spoken. The happiness of being married with Aarib was shown on her face. Six months passed.

Maliha thought. Six months without him and she was still alive breathing. It was hard but she survived this separation.

As the car approached the hospital building, its bright emergency lights came into view.Maliha’s heartbeat quickened.Somewhere inside that building, Aarib was waiting.

Alone.

The car stopped abruptly.
Without wasting a second, they stepped out and hurried toward the entrance. Tonight, pride stayed behind. They were going in as family.

--------
The hospital corridor was washed in harsh white light, the faint smell of antiseptic hanging heavy in the air. The steady beeping of machines from inside the ICU echoed like a reminder of how fragile everything had become.

As the Farooqi family stepped through the entrance, their eyes immediately searched for him.
And there he was.

Aarib stood near the ICU doors, his once crisp white shirt now stained and wrinkled, dried blood marking it like a cruel memory he hadn’t yet escaped. His bkack coat hanged on a chair. His hair was disheveled, his face pale, eyes swollen from hours of fear and sleepless waiting.

For a moment, he didn’t notice them.His gaze lifted and froze. Saba Farooqi… his phuphu.
Without a second thought, he turned to them fully.

“Phuphu…” His voice broke before the word fully formed.

She rushed to him, her eyes already brimming. Whatever offense she had carried for months dissolved the moment she saw him like this. She pulled him into a tight embrace, her hands trembling against his back.

“My child…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Allah protect her.”

Aarib closed his eyes for a second in that embrace not as a grown man, not as a husband but as a helpless nephew who needed comfort.
Mr. Farooqi stepped forward and placed a firm, steady hand on Aarib’s shoulder. It wasn’t a long gesture, but it held strength. Support.

“We are here,” he said quietly.
Aarib nodded.

He didn’t trust his voice anymore. Rehman stood beside his father, offering a brief but sincere nod. Hikmat and his family were already there, standing a little to the side, their faces equally tense. Hikmat gave him a reassuring look the kind that said I told them to come… you’re not alone.

But Aarib still felt alone.
Because the only person who mattered to him right now was behind those closed ICU doors.And she wasn’t speaking. She wasn’t smiling.She wasn’t calling his name.A few steps behind her parents stood Maliha.

Silent.
Still.

Her eyes found him the moment they entered and they hadn’t left him since.
He looked… different.

Not the confident, composed Aarib she had known. Not the man who once stood steady in every storm.This Aarib looked shaken.Frightened. Broken from inside and then she noticed something else.

He wasn’t looking at her. Not even once.
His gaze moved to everyone, his phuphu, her father, Rehman, even Hikmat but it carefully avoided her direction. As if looking at her required a strength he didn’t have. As if the past was too heavy for this moment. She lowered her eyes for a second.

And somewhere deep inside, it hurt.Not because she expected anything. But because avoidance speaks louder than confrontation.

“Doctor said the surgery went well,” Hikmat informed the family softly. “But she’s still unconscious. They’ve shifted her to ICU. Her right arm is fractured… and there was a head injury.”
Mrs. Farooqi covered her mouth, whispering prayers.

“Can we see her?” Mr. Farooqi asked.

“Only from outside. Through the glass,” Hikmat replied.

They slowly moved toward the ICU window.Inside, Roshaane lay still. A white bandage wrapped around her head. Her right arm secured in a cast. Tubes and wires surrounded her delicate form.The steady rhythm of the monitor was the only sign she was still fighting.Aarib stood closest to the glass.His fingers lightly touched it.As if he could reach her through it.

Everyone around him was whispering duas, offering words of comfort, assuring him she would be fine.But their voices felt distant to him.
Muted.

People were beside him.
Family stood with him.
Friends surrounded him.
Yet inside, he had never felt this alone.
Not when she was just a few steps away, and still impossibly far.

-----

The night passed without mercy.
The ICU monitor beeped steadily, almost cruel in its rhythm, a reminder that she was alive, yet unreachable. Aarib did not go home.
No matter how many times Mrs. Farooqi insisted. No matter how gently Mr. Farooqi suggested rest.

“I’m fine,” he had said.

But he wasn’t.

By midnight, most of the family had left. Hikmat stayed for a few more hours before finally stepping outside to give him space. Aarib remained sitting beside her, watching her, waiting for her. The next morning, pale sunlight filtered through the ICU blinds. A nurse checked her vitals. Adjusted the IV. Made notes.
Aarib hadn’t slept.

His eyes were red, sat leaning forward, elbows on his knees, her left hand carefully held between both of his. There were no more words left. Only silent prayers. Around mid-morning, the Farooqi family returned.

Maliha stood slightly behind the others again.
She noticed something. Aarib looked even more fragile today. As if the night had stripped something from him.
Not pride.
Not ego.
But strength.

He hadn’t looked at her once since they arrived. And today was no different. Inside the ICU, a faint change occurred. The monitor rhythm shifted slightly. A nurse glanced at the screen. Aarib didn’t notice at first.Then, he felt it. A tiny movement. Her fingers, very slight they moved.
He froze.

His grip tightened gently. “Roshaane?”

Her eyelashes trembled.
Once.
Twice.

The nurse stepped closer. “She’s responding.”

Aarib stood up immediately, his chair scraping softly.

“Roshaane,” his voice cracked, but softer now.

“Can you hear me?”

Her brows knit faintly, as if fighting through a heavy fog.

Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
Her eyes opened.

They were unfocused at first,confused, searching. The white ceiling. The bright light. The unfamiliar room. Then, they found him.
Aarib.

He was standing too close. Breathing too fast.
Looking as if he hadn’t lived for days.
For a second, she just stared.Then her lips parted beneath the oxygen mask. He leaned closer.

“Don’t move,” he whispered quickly, panic rising as she tried to lift her right arm and winced in pain.

“It’s fractured,” he said gently, holding her left hand more carefully. “You had surgery. You’re safe.”

Her gaze stayed on his face. And something softened in her eyes. He didn’t smile. He didn’t say anything dramatic. He just closed his eyes briefly. And exhaled. A breath he had been holding for twenty-four hours.

“She’s conscious,” the nurse said softly, stepping out to inform the family.

Outside, the Farooqis stood up instantly.
Maliha’s heart skipped.

“She’s awake,” the nurse repeated.

Relief spread across the corridor like sunlight breaking through clouds.

Inside the ICU, Aarib remained by her side.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured quietly, almost scolding, almost pleading.

She couldn’t speak much yet.

But her fingers tightened weakly around his.
And that was enough.

Now the emotional tension deepens. Maliha sees them through the glass.She sees how he looks at Roshaane. Aarib still doesn’t label it as love.
But everyone else can see it.

-------
The atmosphere inside the ICU had shifted.
The danger that had hung like a shadow over Roshaane’s bed since the accident had finally begun to lift. She had responded much earlier than the doctors had expected. Her vitals were stable now. The bleeding had been controlled. The fracture in her right arm was secured.
She was no longer critical.

Only asleep,  heavily sedated by medicines, her body needing rest to recover. But that one moment, when her eyes had opened and found Aarib had changed everything.

The fear of losing her had loosened its grip.
Outside the ICU, the family stood with visible relief.

“She’s out of danger,” the doctor confirmed calmly. “Now we just wait for her to regain full consciousness once the sedation wears off.”
Mrs. Farooqi closed her eyes in gratitude. Mr. Farooqi whispered a quiet Alhamdulillah. Zainab wiped her tears openly.

Aarib stood slightly apart, staring through the ICU glass. She looked peaceful now. Too peaceful.
As if nothing violent had happened.

“You should go home and change,” Hikmat said gently, stepping beside him. His eyes dropped briefly to Aarib’s clothes. His face was pale. His posture rigid. His clothes and body still still had the blood strain of Roshaane’s blood.
Aarib didn’t move.

“I can’t go,” he replied quietly.

There was something helpless in his tone. Almost childlike. As if stepping away even for a moment might undo everything.

“She’s fine now,” Hikmat insisted softly. “She’s sleeping. Doctors are here. We’re here.”
Aarib’s jaw tightened.

“She woke up once,” he said, barely audible.

“What if she wakes again and...”

“And we’ll call you,” Hikmat interrupted firmly but kindly. “You won’t help her by collapsing.”

Silence stretched.
Finally, after a long breath, Aarib nodded.

“Zainab,” he said, turning toward her, “stay with her. If she wakes up… call me immediately.”

Zainab nodded without hesitation. “I will.”

He gave one last look toward the ICU glass.
Then he stepped back. As he turned to leave, the corridor seemed unusually quiet. The Farooqi family stood nearby. Mrs. Farooqi gave him a soft, reassuring look. Mr. Farooqi placed a brief hand on his shoulder again. Rehman nodded faintly.
Maliha stood a little behind them.

Still.
Watching.

For a second, just a second, it felt like he might look at her. Might acknowledge her presence.Might say something.Anything.But he didn’t. He walked past her. Close enough that she felt the air shift. Close enough that she could see how tired he looked. But he did not turn. Did not pause. Did not let his eyes meet hers.And in that quiet passin, Something settled inside her.
Not anger.
Not jealousy.

But a deep, steady realization. She had lost him long ago. Maybe the day she told him to marry Roshaane. Maybe even before that.
Love doesn’t disappear in one moment.
It fades.
Silently.

And today, watching him walk away without looking back. She understood that his heart had already chosen.

Aarib returned to the hospital almost an hour later. His hair was still slightly damp from the hurried shower, but the exhaustion on his face hadn’t faded. If anything, it had deepened. His eyes searched the corridor before he had even fully stepped inside.

Hikmat noticed immediately.
“What happened?” he asked, walking toward him. “Why do you look like that?”

Aarib’s voice came out tight. “Is she okay? Did anything happen?”

Hikmat exhaled, a small reassuring smile forming.

“She’s fine. Doctors are saying she’s stable now. They might even shift her to a normal room by evening.”

For the first time since arriving, Aarib’s shoulders dropped slightly.

“I… just had some thoughts on the way here,” he admitted quietly. “What if something changed while I was gone…”

“She’s fine,” Hikmat repeated firmly. “Relax.”

Aarib nodded, though the worry never fully left his eyes. The family stayed for a while longer before gradually leaving. Only the Farooqi family remained seated near the ICU corridor.
Saba Farooqi walked toward Aarib and gently held his arm.

“Did you inform Pakistan?” she asked softly.

“Jahan? Zeeniya? About Roshaane’s accident?”

A faint frown appeared on Aarib’s forehead. “No… I couldn’t.”

“They should know,” she said. “They’re her parents. At least inform Aarham.”

Hikmat stepped closer. “She’s stable now. I don’t think it’s necessary to panic them.”

Saba shook her head gently. “Still. They deserve to know.”

Aarib nodded after a pause. “I’ll try to talk to him.”

By late evening, most of them left, promising to return the next day.

Aarib remained.

Roshaane had begun drifting in and out of light consciousness. Her eyelids would flutter open weakly, unfocused for a moment, then close again as the medication pulled her back into sleep.

He stayed seated beside her bed.

The room was quieter now. Only the soft hum of machines and the occasional footsteps of nurses broke the silence.

It was nearly eight at night when Mr. Farooqi returned with Rehman and Maliha. They brought dinner and tea in a thermos. Aarib stepped out with them toward the hospital canteen area.
He poured himself a small cup of tea but barely drank it. His gaze remained lowered. He deliberately avoided looking up. Especially toward the seat directly across from him.

“She’s fine, Alhamdulillah,” Mr. Farooqi said gently.

“But you should take care of yourself too.”
Aarib nodded silently.

“Thank you… for all this,” he said, finally lifting his head slightly but only toward Mr. Farooqi. “There was no need.”

“It’s okay,” Rehman replied simply. “What are families for?”

There was no awkwardness in his tone. Just sincerity. They stood up after a few minutes.
As Aarib turned to go back toward Roshaane’s room, A soft voice stopped him.

“Can we talk?”

Maliha’s words froze the moment.

Mr. Farooqi and Rehman both turned toward her.
Aarib didn’t turn immediately. For a brief second, it seemed as if he might pretend not to hear.Then, without facing her, he gave a slight nod and walked ahead.

“Wait for me. I’ll be back,” Maliha told her father and brother quietly.

She followed him down the corridor. Behind them, Mr. Farooqi slowly sat back down with a sigh.
Rehman lowered himself into the chair beside him.

“I don’t think Aarib’s chapter is over in her life,” Rehman murmured.

Mr. Farooqi watched the direction they had gone, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I think,” he said softly, “it’s finally beginning to end.”

And down the quiet hospital corridor, two people walked side by side, carrying a past that had never been properly closed.

Assalam-o-Alaikum readers!

​How are you all doing? I’m so sorry I couldn’t update last night; I was incredibly tired and ended up falling asleep.

​But finally, the chapter is here! I hope you enjoy it. The upcoming tracks are going to get even more interesting, so stay tuned to witness the beautiful love beginning to bloom between both couples.

​I’ll be back with the next update soon!

​With love,
Your Author.