Third person's POV.

The night had settled into a deep stillness by the time Ashraf finally sat down at his desk. The entire house was quiet, save for the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the background. He had done what he had to do—carried Zara and her drip to his side of the house, away from the concerned and hovering family members. Even Umma, who had been so insistent on staying by her daughter's side, had to relent when Ashraf made it clear that he was Zara's husband and would take responsibility for her care.

He could still hear the echo of Umma's voice in his head, her words a mix of worry and love as she tried to convince him to let her stay. But Ashraf knew better. He knew that Zara didn't need to wake up to a room full of anxious faces and a barrage of questions. She needed peace—a chance to come back to herself without the weight of everyone else's fears pressing down on her.

As they all left, Umma was the last to go, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and reluctance. "Promise me you'll call us when she wakes up," she had said, her voice firm but soft.

"I promise," Ashraf replied, his fingers subtly crossed behind his back. He wasn't planning on keeping that promise—not right away, at least. He couldn't bear the thought of Zara waking up to a crowd. She needed calm, not chaos.

Now, as he sat at his desk, the dark gray walls surrounding him like a protective cocoon, he tried to focus on the work in front of him. His laptop was open, multiple tabs were displayed on the screen, and his iPad rested in his hand as he scrolled through some work-related documents. The dim light in the room, softened by the light gray curtains, cast a muted glow that only added to the room's cool, dark, and mysterious atmosphere.

His gaze drifted to the bed, where Zara lay sleeping peacefully. She looked so small under the black bedding, almost fragile, but there was a certain serenity to her expression that made his chest tighten with a feeling he couldn't quite name. She was wearing one of Zainab's maternity gowns, the fabric draping loosely over her frame. It was too big for her, but the slight difference in size only seemed to emphasize her delicate features.

Ashraf turned back to his work, but his mind kept wandering. He had planned to leave all his responsibilities to the CFO and his secretary, wanting to focus solely on Zara. But with nothing to do but wait for her to wake up, he found himself restless. The work was a welcome distraction, something to keep his mind occupied as the minutes ticked by.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he heard it—a soft, almost inaudible rustle from the bed. He thought he had imagined it at first, but then he heard a small, hoarse voice whisper, "Help."

In an instant, Ashraf was out of his chair and by her side. The iPad fell to the floor, forgotten, as he reached out to her. Zara's eyes were barely open, her face pale, and her lips dry. He helped her sit up, his hands steady despite the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through him.

"Here, drink this," he said gently, grabbing the glass of water from the bedside table. He held it to her lips, watching as she took small, tentative sips.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked once she had finished.

Zara shook her head weakly, her eyes closing as she leaned back against the pillows. Ashraf settled beside her, unsure of what to do next. The silence between them was thick, not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken words. He found himself studying her face, the way her eyelashes fluttered slightly, and the way her hands gripped the sheets.

Zara stared down at her slender fingers, her mind a blur of emotions she couldn't quite process. Everything felt overwhelming, yet distant at the same time, like she was watching her own life from the outside. She didn't know what to say or how to express the jumble of thoughts and feelings swirling inside her.

Then, without warning, she felt a tear slip down her cheek. She blinked, surprised, but more tears followed, spilling over in silent streams. She tried to wipe them away, but it was no use. A small sob escaped her, breaking the silence.

Ashraf's heart ached at the sight of her tears. He didn't think—he just acted. He reached out and took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. Then he pulled her into his arms, holding her close as her sobs grew louder.

"It's okay," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "I'm here."

Zara didn't resist. She buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching his shirt as she cried. It felt strange to be so vulnerable and to let someone else see her like this. But with Ashraf, it felt safe. He didn't push her away and didn't ask questions she couldn't answer. He just held her, his hand rubbing slow, comforting circles on her back.

After a while, the tears began to subside, leaving Zara feeling drained but oddly lighter. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes were soft, filled with a concern that made her heart swell.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Zara shook her head. "No... I just... can we stay like this for a while?" Her voice was small, almost a whisper.

Ashraf nodded, his arms tightening around her. "Of course."

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the world outside their little bubble fading away. Zara felt herself growing sleepy again, her body relaxing against his. Ashraf shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on her as he leaned back against the headboard. He could feel the weight of exhaustion pulling him down too, but he didn't want to move; he didn't want to let go of her.

They did not know how or when sleep consumed them, but it did, and they welcomed it with open arms, forgetting that a world outside of that room existed. 

~*~

Hello people. *awkwardly laughs*

Well here is an update

*carries bended cover shoes and runs away*