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Tara
Till the day I die, I won't be able to get that image out of my head: the one of Zoha at the bottom of the stairs, unconscious, fallen after an attempt to save me.
And now, we were at the hospital, where Misha and I were sitting on the hard plastic chairs, my arm around her shoulders as she sobbed. Our worried parents stood nearby.
"These phones will be the death of me!" Mama snapped for the millionth time. "How many times have I told you to not use it while walking or coming down the stairs?!"
Tears filled my eyes, and another wave of guilt washed over me. I knew I was at fault, and I could never forgive myself for this.
"Jamila, stop." Papa told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Tara feels bad enough already."
Mama started sobbing quietly again. "My Zoha, my baby..."
"Have faith in Allah, Zoha will be fine, In Sha Allah." Papa reassured her.
"Mama, I'm really sorry." I whispered.
"If anything had happened to you or your baby, or if something happens to Zoha? Would your sorry help then?" Mama was being harsh, but I knew that she wasn't doing it intentionally. Her love for us was making her react that way.
"Jamila, Tara has always looked out for Zoha. She would never, ever intentionally risk her sister's life, you know that. Yes, she was careless, but she feels bad about it." Papa spoke calmly. "I'm sure Tara has learnt from this, and we shouldn't worry her any further."
"I love Zoha too much, Mama." I added. "I'd rather die than hurt her intentionally."
Mama nodded, sniffing. "I know, Tara. I'm just very worried."
The doctor came out of the room.
"How is Zoha?" Papa asked her immediately.
"She suffered from a concussion, but her scans have come clear and she is responding clearly, comprehending what we were asking her very well, so there's no matter of concern regarding the head injury." The doctor replied. "And I guess that, as you mentioned, the floor and the stairs were carpeted, so that prevented any fractures to the bones. She might suffer from aches and pains, and I will prescribe a medicine for that, but otherwise, she should recover quickly. The damage could have been much, much worse given how she fell."
"Can we see her?" Mama asked, hopefully.
"Not at the moment." The doctor shook her head. "We just need to do some further checks and we'll let you know when you can see her. If you have any further questions, don't hesitate to ask."
"What checks?" Mama frowned. "If she's fine, what further checks must be done?"
The doctor pursed her lips, as if hesitant to respond. "Mrs Hamid, she fell down stairs, and we need to be completely sure that she's perfectly fine before she can go home. We're just ensuring that."
Mama began to open her mouth to argue, but Papa spoke up. "Of course, doctor. Do whatever's necessary to make sure that our daughter is okay."
The doctor nodded and walked away, after excusing herself.
"I really hope our Zoha is okay." Mama said, staring at the closed door of Zoha's room.
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Yours, Eternally
العاطفية"He wanted to marry her, but he's my husband." "She's beautiful, kind, caring, loving, but I wish she wasn't my wife." ***** Tara Hamid was born and bred in an average family: loving, caring, with just the right amount of family drama. She dreams...
