Yours, Eternally

Lifeline

"Zoha..." She said, grimly, grabbing my hand.

"No." I shook my head, studying her expression. "No! Don't say it! MAMA, DON'T SAY IT!" I screamed out the last part. 

She looked startled. "I'm not saying what you think I'm saying. Allah na kare!" 

*"God forbid!"

"What happened? How is he?!" 

"He has a broken arm, and various bruises over his body..." She paused. "But he still hasn't woken up, and the doctors are a little concerned about that." 

"C-Coma?" 

"That's all we have been told right now." She said, leaning down to kiss my forehead. 

"I can't lose him, Mama." 

"Have faith. In Sha Allah, Talha will be fine." Mama sat on a chair by my bed, draping a dupatta over her head as she began to recite supplications on her tasbeeh. 

"Is anyone else here?" I asked.

"Yes, your Papa, Iftikhar Bhai and Zain. Arzoo and Misha are with Tara at home because your sister had to be with Zara." 

I nodded. "Of course." 

A few seconds of silence later, Dr Iman returned to the room. She saw my mother sitting on the chair, before looking at me. "I'm sure you must have heard the update by now?"

"Yes, thank you." I whispered. "I'm Zoha, by the way." 

"You already know my name." She said. "But, I really wish you all the best, Zoha. I hope you and your family recover from this accident soon. Ameen."

"Ameen." 

Iman politely nodded at me and Mama, before heading out. 

The wait was becoming unbearable. I was desperate to jump out of bed and wait outside the room where my husband was, but there was a drip attached to me, and I was not stupid enough to rip it off myself like they do in TV and films.

Talha, please be okay.

****

Zain

I have rarely felt this scared in my life. 

I paced the waiting area, praying repeatedly in my head, desperate for my brother to be okay. My big brother was basically my lifeline, and the idea of losing him was unfathomable for me, not too mention unbearable.

My brother, my first best friend. He'd always had my back, always shielded me and always gave me the best advice. He never criticised me or judged me when I was wrong, rather tried to improve my behaviour by suggesting what he felt was the right thing to do.

We were joined by Jamila Aunty a while later.

"How's Zoha?" Hamid Uncle asked, worriedly.

Out of respect, none of us males had entered the room where Bhabi was being kept, even though we all were concerned about her as well. 

"She's worried sick about Talha, naturally." Aunty replied. 

"I should have driven them to the hospital." I muttered. "I shouldn't have listened to Bhai. He was worried enough and..."

"Zain, if something is meant to happen, it would happen either way." Dad told me. "As long as you didn't do anything intentionally or recklessly, you can't take the blame for it." 

"But, Bhai is..." I felt so helpless at that point that I wanted to punch the wall.

"He'll be fine. In Sha Allah." Dad seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince me.