Huzaifah and Safoora are siblings attending a faraway islamic boarding school where memorizing the Quran and academic education is compulsory. They are forced to keep their sibling relationship a secret by their parents, who has threatened them to g...
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Huzaifah POV:
It had been a few days already since Safoora was transferred to the coma ward. Our visitations became regular; mom and dad frantically visited whenever possible, Abu Hurairah basically lived there, and I ran like a wild goose, from home to Safoora, and then Safoora to home. It was an endless stormy routine.
With a long sigh, I stressfully placed my head in my palms. I didn't know what to expect anymore, the doctors had given no guarantee of her survival; just like life, the chances of death were pretty slim. There was no given antidote for her illness, her situation was a complete unknown mystery. Doctors didn't know what was wrong with her, and they left her only with an oxygen mask to fight the disease herself. She was all on her own.
I glanced at my sister, her eyes were closed, her body motionless and pale against the white hospital bed. The inhaling and exhaling noise from the oxygen mask was inevitably loud against my ears, and it wierdly calmed my nerves. At least she was breathing. It was the only hope I was clinging onto so far.
Beside me, Mom clutched Safoora's hand and sobbed bitterly. Ever since the past few days, she was sobbing uncontrollably, unable to get past Safoora's condition. Her eyes were puffy, she wasn't talking, or eating, or doing anything. Just like Safoora, she stopped everything. The world had lost its meaning to her, and there was no assuring words to console her with.
"She looks so waifish. She lost more weight than the last time I saw her." Mom whispered with a broken voice, her lips quivering as she threaded her fingers with Safoora's motionless hands. "She... looks so weak, I don't think she can fight it. I had a wierd feeling before she left home that I... I would never see her happy again, or talking to me with a grin, and it shockingly became true." She began sobbing again, tears began streaming down her face, and my heartbroke again from the beginning. "Safoora isn't happy. She hates me, I was probably the worst mom in the world."
I instantly hugged mom, wrapping my arm around her tightly. "She'll wake up inshallah, she'd be talking just like before, and she would be much happier. She'll love you, and she still does." It was doing no comfort, mom still seemed frantic, and there was literally nothing I could do because death made no promises. It comes, snatches life, and leaves. Brutal as ever.
"If only I didn't allow Safoora to leave the house, and move in with Abu Hurairah, things probably would have been different. I knew she was too young, and not ready." Dad grumbled, pacing back and forth frantically in Safoora's coma room while biting his lips stressfully. "It's my mistake for trusting you, and your son." Dad glared at uncle Yusuf who sat beside Abu Hurairah, on the other side of Safoora's bed.
Didn't dad know that accepting your fated destiny was part of your imaan, and it was a sin if he saw it that way and blamed himself like that? Allah had everything planned and written down, and the ink of destiny was dried. Saying, 'if this would happen' or 'that would happen' would be not believing in Allah's power. A sin that indirectly affected your imaan (belief in god).
