Beauty and the joker

9. Joker is Dead

In a sudden turn of events, he managed to break free and, in a misguided attempt, seized a gun from a nearby police officer. Instead of using it towards harm, he aimed it at Zahran and Fatiha, causing chaos. A shot rang out, and unfortunately, Zahran was struck in the arms. A scream escaped from Fatiha's throat.

Witnessing the perilous situation, Inspector Richard, acting swiftly, took necessary measures to protect innocent lives. In an effort to neutralize the threat, Richard, with precision and resolve, discharged his firearm. The bullet found its mark, bringing an end to the immediate danger posed by the assailant. The assailant falls on the ground, lifeless.

Once again, THE JOKER IS DEAD.

The air had cleared of immediate threats, but suddenly, the air was pierced by Fatiha's anguished cries. She writhed in pain; the moment for her delivery had arrived. Zahran, too, needed urgent medical care. Without wasting any time, the police swiftly transported them to the hospital.

--------------

The infamous thief, Joker, has been killed, only to reveal that he was not the real Joker but an imposter attempting to emulate the deceased criminal. The imposter launched an attack at the location where he had planned to commit a theft. Fortunately, a courageous Bangladeshi inspector, who happened to be present during the incident, apprehended him. The situation escalated into violence, leading the suspect to break free from his restraints and seize a weapon from a nearby officer. In a display of commendable calm and precision, Inspector Richard neutralized the threat by discharging his firearm. The suspect was apprehended, and authorities are currently investigating the motive behind this attempted attack.

The news coverage then shifted to Raihan, who appeared both nervous and elated.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Raihan? Your actions are being highly praised," the reporter inquired.

"Alhamdulillah... I am really happy that I could assist the British officers in capturing this imposter Joker," Raihan responded.

This entire incident was being broadcast on various news channels.

Raihan found himself inundated with calls from relatives, friends, and colleagues, all congratulating him on his bravery. News reporters clamored for interviews, seeking to share his heroic tale.

Zahran anxiously awaited the joyous tidings of his son's arrival into the world.

During this time, Zahran also visited Daud, who was admitted to the same hospital. He expressed heartfelt gratitude for saving Fatiha's life. Though Daud had been stabbed in the chest, his injuries were not severe. Daud only responded him with a smile.

---------

Zahran paced nervously in front of the operating theater where they had taken Fatiha. His eyes couldn't help but return to the closed door, eagerly awaiting the doctor's news. He prayed fervently to Allah Ta'ala for the well-being of Tahira and their newborn.

Being covered in bandages himself, arms in plaster and throat wrapped, Zahran looked disheveled. Raihan was present but still busy with phone calls, and soon, Zahran's parents arrived. His mother, at the sight of her son's condition, burst into tears, and his father shared the concern.

Assuring them he was fine, Zahran's attention snapped to the door .It burst open. The doctor emerged, removing his mask with a smile.

"Mr. Zahran," the doctor's voice boomed, a welcome jolt in the stillness. "Congratulations. You have a son. A healthy boy."

"My wife?" he rasped," How's my wife,doctor?"

The doctor's smile softened. "She's fine, Mr. Zahran. Resting comfortably. You'll see her soon."

Relief washed over Zahran like a tidal wave, leaving him weak at the knees.

"Alhamdulillah!" Zahran whispered, grateful for the blessings despite his imperfections. His parents shared in the joy, and Zahran entered the room. Fatiha, though exhausted, slept peacefully.

Zahran leaned down, his calloused fingers tracing the curve of her cheek and her eyes fluttered open. "Thank you," he rasped, the words thick with unspoken gratitude and love.

A smile, soft as moonlight, bloomed on Fatiha's lips. "Where is he?" she whispered, her gaze darting around the room, searching for the missing piece of her heart.

The door creaked open, a nurse swathed in white bearing a precious cargo. The baby's cry, a fragile melody, pierced the sterile air, and Zahran felt his breath hitch in his throat.

His parents marveled at their grandchild, and his mother cradled the baby, bringing him close to Zahran. Tears welled in Fatiha's eyes like sparkling diamonds as she reached for her son with trembling hands. Her fingers tracing the delicate curve of his nose and lips.

"He looks just like you," Fatiha said, and Zahran smiled. When asked about the name, Fatiha deferred to Zahran, and all eyes focused on him. Tears blurring his vision, Zahran cupped the baby's face, his thumb gently tracing the curve of his cheek. 'Yahya,' he whispered, the name rolling off his tongue like a cherished prayer. 'Yahya Bin Zahran, my son.'