34

The sterile waiting room was unbearably quiet, broken only by the faint hum of the overhead lights and the occasional murmurs of the nurses beyond the doors. Feras sat hunched forward, his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his trembling hands. His breaths came in shallow bursts, each one feeling heavier than the last.

The weight of the blood on the stairs, the image of Anam's tear-streaked face, and the echoes of her desperate voice clawed at his mind. What have I done? His thoughts were a whirlwind of regret and self-loathing.

He barely registered the sound of hurried footsteps until a familiar voice cut through the haze of his despair.

"Bhai!"

Feras lifted his head sharply. Ayan rushed toward him, his usually bright eyes now clouded with worry. Behind him, Ayub and Pari followed, Ayub clutching the edges of her dupatta tightly, her face pale and tear-streaked. Pari, for once subdued, kept her head down, her usual sharp demeanor softened by concern.

Ayan reached him first, his hand immediately gripping Feras' shoulder. "She's strong, bhai. She'll make it. She has to." His voice, though steady, was thick with emotion.

Feras' lips parted, but no words came out. His throat felt dry, as if no explanation or apology could ever be enough for the guilt he carried.

Ayub hesitated, her steps faltering as she stood a few feet away. Her lips quivered as she finally spoke. "She... she was asking for you before she fainted." Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she wiped at them furiously. "She kept saying your name."

Those words hit Feras like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard, his head falling back into his hands. She was asking for me? Even after everything?

Pari, standing silently at the edge of the group, finally spoke, her voice low. "She lost a lot of blood, Feras bhai. The doctor said it'll take time to know if she's stable." .

Feras looked up, his eyes bloodshot and filled with pain. "It's my fault," he whispered hoarsely. "All of it. I—" He stopped, his voice breaking. "I didn't listen. I didn't trust her."

Ayub couldn't hold back anymore. "She trusted you," she said, her voice rising slightly, though it shook with emotion. "Even when the whole world turned against her, she never stopped believing in you. And you..." Her words faltered, but Ayan placed a comforting hand on her arm, silently urging her to stay calm.

Feras shook his head violently, his fists clenching. "I know," he said, his voice raw.

.....

"She's in a coma," the doctor had said. "There's significant brain trauma. The chances of her waking up... they're very slim. We'll continue monitoring her, but you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that she may not recover."

The words reverberated in his mind as he walked down the cold, sterile hallway. The smell of antiseptic stung his nose, but it was nothing compared to the sharp, stabbing pain in his chest. His hands shook uncontrollably, his fingers flexing and clenching at his sides as if trying to grasp onto something, anything, that could make sense of this nightmare.

Reaching the hospital's prayer room, Feras pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges cutting through the suffocating silence. He dropped to his knees on the soft carpet, his breath shallow and ragged.

He stared at the empty room. His lips parted to say something... anything... but his throat felt tight, like it was closing around unspoken grief. Tears blurred his vision, streaming down his face as his shoulders trembled under the weight of emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

His mind was a battlefield of thoughts. Memories of Anam flooded him... her radiant smile, her soft voice calling his name with unwavering gentleness, the way she quietly endured so much without complaint.

I failed her, he thought bitterly. I couldn't protect her. I couldn't even see how much she loved me. And now... now I might lose her forever.

Guilt clawed at his chest, leaving behind deep, raw wounds. He had always kept himself at a distance from faith, from Allah. He couldn't bring himself to pray, not after everything he had done. The sins of his past weighed too heavily on him, making him feel unworthy of divine mercy.

But then, through the fog of his despair, a memory surfaced... one that pierced his heart.

He remembered seeing her late one night, sitting on the terrace. Her voice had been soft yet filled with conviction, each word spoken as if she was pouring her soul into them.

"Imam-e-Zamana (AJ)," she had whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're my only refuge. I don't have anyone else to turn to who understands me like you do. Please... I need your help. I trust you."

Feras had watched her from the shadows, unmoving, as she confided in her unseen protector with a vulnerability that both bewildered and moved him. He hadn't understood it at the time, but now, that memory burned brightly in his mind.

And then, he remembered something else she had once said, something that had struck him at the time but that he hadn't understood.

Her words echoed alongside another fragment of wisdom she had shared with him once: a saying of Imam Raza (AS). "If you cannot speak to us as your Imam, then speak to us as a father. And if not a father, as a brother. And if not a brother, as a friend."

Feras' breath hitched, his chest tightening as an unfamiliar vulnerability washed over him. His hands trembled as he slowly raised them, a hesitant gesture that felt foreign yet oddly soothing. His fingers interlocked, pressing against his forehead, but when he tried to speak to Allah (SWT), the words caught in his throat.

Shame consumed him. How could he ask for help from the Lord he had continuously ignored? He had brushed aside countless commands, indulged in sins without care, and now, his transgressions weighed heavily on his soul. He felt unworthy, a sinner too far gone to seek mercy.

But then, a memory surfaced... Anam, speaking about 14 Masoomeen (AS) and their connection to Allah. She had often mentioned Imam-e-Zamana (AS), the one she trusted with her deepest hopes and fears, urging him to use their wasilah to reach Allah (SWT).

For a moment, Feras hesitated, guilt threatening to pull him back. But Anam's words echoed in his mind. With a trembling heart, he decided to try. He whispered the names of the Masoomeen (AS), asking for their intercession, hoping they would help guide his broken soul back to Allah's mercy.

"Imam-e-Zamana (AJ)," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I... I don't know if I have the right to ask you for anything. I've lived my life so far from faith, so far from the path she always walked. But I don't know where else to go. She believed in you. She trusted you."

His tears fell freely now, soaking the carpet beneath him. "I don't deserve her," he choked out. "I've wronged her in so many ways. I ignored her, doubted her, made her feel alone... and still, she prayed for me. She prayed for me, while I pushed her away."

His hands clutched tighter as his voice cracked with desperation. "I know I'm a sinner. I've been arrogant, selfish, and blind to the blessings Allah gave me. But please... please tell Allah to not take her away from me. I beg you, Imam-e-Zamana. She's my light... my only chance to make things right. If there's any mercy left for someone like me, let her wake up. Let her come back to me."

For the first time in his life, Feras felt stripped bare... no ego, no pride, just raw vulnerability laid before the unseen.

He pressed his forehead to the ground, his voice muffled by the carpet. "If you can hear me, if you can intercede for her, I'll do anything. I'll change. I'll be the man she deserves. I'll make up for every moment I failed her. Just... just don't let her leave me like this."

The silence in the room was deafening, but within it, Feras felt the faintest flicker of something he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't relief or assurance, but a small, fragile thread of hope... one that hadn't been there before.

As he sat back on his heels, his hands still clasped tightly, his mind returned to her face. He thought of her smile, her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about things she loved. He remembered her unshakable faith, her quiet strength, her kindness even when it wasn't returned.

He would fight for her. He would keep praying, keep hoping, even if it meant breaking apart and rebuilding himself from the ground up.

Rising slowly, Feras wiped his face with trembling hands. His legs felt heavy as he made his way back to the ICU, but his heart carried a new resolve.

Ayan, Ayub, and Pari were waiting for him, their eyes filled with unspoken questions.

"She'll wake up," Feras said quietly, his voice filled with a raw determination. "I don't know when, but she will."

Ayub nodded, a fresh wave of tears spilling from her eyes, but this time, there was a glimmer of hope. Ayan clapped a hand on Feras' shoulder, his usual grin faint but genuine. "That's the spirit, bhai," he said softly.

Together, they returned to the waiting area, sitting side by side in silent solidarity. T

Standing outside her room, Feras placed his hand on the cold glass, staring at her fragile form surrounded by machines and wires. "I'm here, Anam," he murmured. "I'll stay with you. I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. I'll be better for you... for us."

.....

The silence in the waiting area was thick and heavy, punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of monitors in the distance. Feras sat with his head bowed, hands clasped tightly as if holding himself together. Ayan and Ayub exchanged anxious glances, unsure whether to break the stillness, while Pari tapped her foot nervously, the tension in the air palpable.

Suddenly, Feras' phone buzzed in his pocket. The sharp sound cut through the quiet, startling everyone. Feras pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. Asim. Without a word to the others, he stood and moved a few steps away before answering.

"What is it?" Feras asked, his tone sharp, his patience already threadbare.

Asim's voice came through, tense but resolute. "Rehan confessed."

Feras froze. His grip on the phone tightened, his jaw clenching. "What did he say?" His voice dropped, each word laced with venom.

"It wasn't random," Asim replied grimly. "The attack on Anam... it was planned. And the one who ordered Rehan to approach her—" He paused, as if hesitant to continue. "It was Aman. Your cousin."

The room seemed to tilt for a moment. Feras' vision blurred with red, his blood roaring in his ears. The name hung in the air, heavy and damning. Aman.

"Are you sure?" Feras asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Positive," Asim confirmed. "He named Aman without hesitation. What do you want me to do?"

Feras' response was ice-cold, each word carrying the weight of his fury. "Stay out of it. I'll handle this." He ended the call without waiting for a reply.

When Feras turned back to the group, his expression was unreadable, but the fire in his eyes was impossible to miss. Ayan, Ayub, and Pari immediately straightened in their seats, an instinctive reaction to the storm brewing inside him.

"What happened bhai?" Ayan asked cautiously, sensing the shift in his brother's demeanor.

"Nothing," Feras replied curtly, his tone so cold it sent chills down their spines.

Ayan opened his mouth to press further, but one look at Feras' rigid stance made him think better of it. Ayub hugged her knees to her chest, her anxiety written all over her face. Pari, sitting closest to Feras, fidgeted uncomfortably, her usual boldness muted by the sheer intensity of his silence.

Feras pulled out his phone again and dialed Zameer's number. His jaw tightened as the line connected.

"Zameer," he began, his voice icy and authoritative. "I don't care where he's hiding. Search every corner of the country. Every city, every alley. Find Aman."

There was a brief pause on the other end before Zameer replied, "Understood, bhai. And when we do?"

Feras' next words were spoken with a chilling finality. "Kill him. On the spot."

The room went deathly silent. Pari gasped audibly, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at Feras in disbelief. Ayan's eyes widened slightly, and even Ayub looked up, her expression a mixture of shock and fear.

"Feras bhai..." Pari started, her voice trembling. "You don't mean—"

Feras cut her off with a sharp glance, his voice like a whip. "I mean every word."

The weight of his declaration hung heavily in the air. Ayan shifted uncomfortably but said nothing, knowing there was no reasoning with Feras when he was like this. Ayub's eyes filled with unshed tears thinking about her sister, and in a small corner of her heart grateful to her brother in law for being so protective of Anam, and Pari looked like she wanted to argue but couldn't find the words.

"Let it go, Pari," Ayan muttered, placing a hand on her arm to calm her.

But Feras was already walking away, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, his steps purposeful and unrelenting. No one hurt Anam and walked away unscathed

.....

Feras stepped out into the stillness of the night, the cold air brushing against his face like a fleeting touch of reality. The moon hung low, its pale light reflecting in his weary eyes, casting a silvery glow over the hospital's garden. His chest felt heavy, a crushing weight that even the night couldn't lift. His fists clenched at his sides as he looked up, his voice breaking the silence.

Ae chand, tu bhi meri tarah khamosh hai,

Tu ne bhi use dekha hoga, meri zindagi ka sukoon thi,

Uski muskaan ki roshni, tere jaisy masoom thi.

Tu gawah hai, woh kitni khalis thi,

Meri baaton ki sakhti, woh sehti jaati thi.

Aur main? Main toh zalim tha,

Apne gusse ke bojh tale, sab bhool jaata tha.

Meri duaon ka sukoon, meri raato ki roshni,

Uski saansein hi thi, meri har khushi.

Ae chand, bata, kya woh jaagegi?

Kya meri toba ka koi rasta hoga?

Usse kehna, agar kabhi yeh baatein sun sake,

Ke mera dil, mera ghuroor, sab uske qadmon mein hai.

Meri duniya, meri jannat, meri wafa,

Sab uske qadmon mein hai.

Ae chand, tu raat ka saathi hai,

Meri iltija us tak pahuncha, tu bhi gawahi de.

Ke maine sab maana hai, apni khataayein, apne gunaah,

Bas dua hai, woh laut aaye, ban jaaye phir se, meri zindagi ki panaah.

(Oh moon, you too are silent like me,

You must have seen her, the peace of my life,

The light of her smile, as innocent as your light.)

(You are a witness to how pure she was,

My words were harsh, but she would endure them.

And me? I was cruel,

Under the weight of my anger, I would forget everything.)

(The peace of my prayers, the light of my nights,

Her breaths were my every happiness.)

(Oh moon, tell me, will she wake up?

Will there be a way for my repentance?)

(Tell her, if she ever hears these words,

That my heart, my pride, all are at her feet.

My world, my paradise, my loyalty,

All are at her feet.)

(Oh moon, you are the companion of the night,

Deliver my plea to her, you too bear witness.

That I have acknowledged my mistakes, my sins,

I just pray she returns, and becomes again, the refuge of my life)

His voice trembled with each word, and by the end, it faded into the quiet of the night. A single tear traced a path down his cheek, glistening like the moonlight. Feras tilted his head back one last time, the rawness of his anguish etched into the dark silhouete of his figure. Then, with a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes, whispering softly, "Ya Imam-e-Zamana, meri madad karein... Khuda se kahein usay mujhe wapis kar dein." (O Imam e Zamana, help me... Ask Allah to bring her back to me.)

I am not a master of poetry, so please feel free to overlook it if it seems over the top hehehe

(～￣▽￣)～