22. 911, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒚?

I stood at the checkout counter, relief flooding over me as I placed the all-purpose flour packet down. It was the final item on my shopping list, marking the end of what had felt like a marathon through the bustling aisles of the grocery store. With a mental note to myself to never let us run out of supplies again, I watched as the black American with a gorgeous afro swiftly began scanning the items.

Each beep of the scanner felt like a countdown to the inevitable sticker shock of the total. As the numbers climbed higher and higher, I tried to mask my surprise at the inflated prices, silently acknowledging the relentless onslaught of inflation we were all grappling with. Subhana'Allah, times were tough.

With a resigned sigh, I paid for the groceries, mentally calculating how much I had left in the budget for the rest of the month. Hassan is always randomly sending money to my account but I still don't like to be frivolous in my spending.

Miraculously, I managed to collect all the plastic bags they placed my items in and began the slow, careful journey through the parking lot. Dodging carts and navigating around other shoppers, I finally reached my car. I loaded the groceries into the trunk, arranging them with care to prevent anything from toppling over on the drive home. I was not the smoothest driver.

Seated in the driver's seat, I took a moment to catch my breath before reaching for the ignition key. But just as I was about to start the car, my phone began to ring, interrupting the quiet moment of respite. Glancing down, I saw my father's name flashing on the screen, and a smile involuntarily tugged at my lips. Baba.

Accepting the call, I was greeted by Baba's warm voice, filled with love and concern. "Assalamu Alaykum Habibti," he said cheerfully.

"Wa Alaykum Salam ya Baba, how are you? I miss you so much," I responded, the familiar ache of longing for my parents tugging at my heartstrings.

"Alhamdulilah, alhamdulilah, I can never complain. I miss you too, habibti. How are you and my son Hassan? I hope you guys are faring well?" Baba's words were like a balm to my soul, soothing away the worries and stresses of the day.

"Yes, we're all good, alhamdulilah. How's mommy?" I inquired, the pang of homesickness sharpening as I thought of my mother.

"She's doing-" Baba's voice trailed off, and I heard a rustling sound in the background. Before I could inquire further, a new voice broke through the line.

"Halimah Sadiyah?" It was my mother, her tone teasing yet affectionate.

"Yes, ma," I replied, unable to suppress a giggle at her playful tone.

"So you now call your father but not your ummi? I knew I wasn't your favorite, but at least make it less obvious," she teased, her words laced with mock indignation.

"Shumaya," Baba interjected, his chuckle audible even through the phone.

"But mommy, we spoke a few days ago, and Baba called me!" I protested, the familiar banter bringing a sense of warmth and nostalgia.

"I don't mind the favoritism, just make sure I'm the first to know when you're expecting InshaaAllah," she teased further, her words causing a flush of embarrassment to color my cheeks.

"Ma!" I groaned, though I couldn't help but smile at her playful antics.

"What? It's just a request," she replied innocently, though her mischievous tone betrayed her true intentions.

"Thank you for that, mom, thank you so much for bringing this up," I said sarcastically, shaking my head at her antics.

"You're welcome. By the way, where is my son?" she asked casually, her tone shifting to one of concern.

"He's good, alhamdulilah. I'm currently at the grocery store after stocking up on foodstuff. He was feeling sick, so I decided to come alone," I explained, choosing my words carefully to avoid disclosing Hassan's condition without his permission. He hasn't told my parents yet and honestly that was his decision to make, if he even wanted to.

"May Allah grant him shifa. Go home and take care of your husband instead of wasting time in the parking lot on the phone," my mother advised, her concern evident in her voice. Huh?

"Drive home safely then, fi aminallah," she added before ending the call abruptly, leaving me with a mix of emotions swirling in my chest.

Sitting in the car, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for my parents, even as their playful teasing and affectionate nagging reminded me of just how much I missed them. With a sigh, I whispered bismillah and turned the key in the ignition, the familiar hum of the engine breaking the silence of the parking lot.

As I drove home, my mind was filled with thoughts of family and love, the warmth of their voices lingering in my ears. I also thought of hassan and prayed he got better soon because I miss his bubbly teasing self the most. The grocery store was only a short drive away, and before long, I found myself pulling into the familiar driveway of our home.

Carefully parking the car, I unloaded the groceries from the trunk, taking care not to jostle anything as I carried them inside. The house was eerily quiet, and a strange sense of unease settled over me as I made my way to the kitchen.

Setting the bags down on the counter, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Was it the empty silence of the house, or the absence of Hassan's presence that left me feeling unsettled? Whatever it was, I knew one thing for certain—I needed to find Hassan to put my mind at ease and lessen my anxiety.

The moment I burst into the dimly lit room, an icy grip of fear clenched at my heart, pounding against my chest with an intensity that threatened to suffocate me.

There, sprawled on the floor lay Hassan, his form unnaturally still against the cold, hard ground. Every fiber of my being screamed in terror, a primal instinct urging me to run to him, to shake him awake from whatever nightmare had claimed him.

With shaky legs and trembling hands, I dropped to my knees beside him, the carpet biting into my skin as I reached out to him. His face was pale, a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding us, and a sickening wave of dread washed over me as I took in the sight of his motionless form. Panic surged through me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me in its relentless grip as I struggled to understand what was happening.

"Hassan!" The sound of my own voice echoed in the silence, a desperate plea laced with fear and desperation as I shook his shoulder, willing him to wake from whatever nightmare had ensnared him. But he remained unresponsive, his body limp and lifeless beneath my touch, as if he were nothing more than a mere shell of the vibrant soul I knew him to be.

Tears blurred my vision as I frantically searched for any sign of life, my fingers trembling as they traced the contours of his face, searching for the reassuring warmth of his skin. But all I found was the cold, a chilling reminder of the fragility of life and the cruel hand of fate that could snatch it away in an instant.

A strangled sob escaped my lips as I pressed my ear against his chest, desperate for the faintest whisper of a heartbeat, the reassuring rhythm that would signal that he was still with me. All I could hear was a very faint, barely there beat of his heart . But that was all I needed.

Even as despair threatened to overwhelm me, a spark of determination ignited within me, a fierce resolve to fight for him with every fiber of my being.

"Hassan!" I cried, my voice trembling with fear as I shook his shoulder. "Hassan"

But of-course he didn't respond. His face was pale, and his breathing was shallow. I reached out to touch his forehead, feeling the clammy coldness of his skin.

"Ya Allah, no, no, no," I whispered, my hands shaking as I searched for any signs of injury. I found a small bump on the back of his head, and fear clenched my heart.

I ran to the bathroom to get a basin and filled it with water and grabbed a cloth. As I was getting what I needed I saw the opened bottle of sleeping pills overturned on the floor, pills scattered everywhere on the carpet.

Fear gripped me once again as I realized what happened but I didn't let that stop me because I rushed back to him and I grabbed a cloth and dipped it into a basin of water, gently pressing it against his forehead in a desperate attempt to rouse him. But he remained unconscious, his body limp in my arms.

Ya Rabbi. My Hassan.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized how helpless I was. I didn't know what had happened to him or how long he had been lying there, but I knew I had to do something.

With trembling hands, I cradled his face as I whispered words of comfort.

"We'll get through this, Hassan," I murmured, my voice choked with emotion. "I won't leave you. I promise."

I ran back downstairs and grabbed my bag off the counter as I searched for my phone. My hands shaking so violently as I dialed 911 that my phone fell numerous times.

Each ring felt like an eternity as I went back upstairs to be by his side until finally, a voice answered on the other end.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Tears choked my voice as I struggled to speak. "My husband , he's unconscious. I don't know what happened. I found sleeping pills on the floor. I-Please, send help quickly."

The operator's voice remained calm as she asked for details. I gave her our location, my words tumbling out in a rush as I described Hassan's condition and the bump on his head.

"Help is on the way," She assured me. "Stay with him and try to keep him comfortable until the paramedics arrive."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "Okay, I will. Please, hurry."

As I ended the call, I felt a surge of relief knowing that help was coming. But the fear still gnawed at me as I knelt beside Hassan, praying for him to wake up. As I was waiting I called the person I knew hassan would want to know first from our family.

The line rang for a few seconds before it connected. I took in a shaky breath before I spoke. Thought that turned out to be futile because my voice still trembled as I spoke.

"Uncle Adam.."

~

New chapter.

Slow updates during this month but I will still be writing x

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