HIJR

T H R E E

【02.

Inkaar — انکار 】

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⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ Inhal ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sunlight pierces through the window frame, laying a warm stripe across my face, marking the start of a new day.

Days. I sometimes find myself envying them. They pass in just the blink of an eye; dusk arrives as swiftly as if it had been lurking just beyond the door. And on days when I wish for time to pause, the hours stretch out, endless as years. How do they manage to start and end when they wish?

Behind me, a warm hand finds my tousled hair, tenderly smoothing it back. I don't need to look to recognize the touch — it's Amma.

Her murmurs weave through the air, prayers slipping from her lips as she rolls her tasbeeh beads. The dupatta on her head loosely contains her long dark brown hair, framing her fair, serene face. Leaning against the headboard, she seems both distant and so very close. I nestle my head into her lap, the only place where the world's weight lifts off my shoulders for a while.

"Inhal?" Her voice is a soft breeze in the quiet room.

"I'm okay, Amma," I respond, trying to sound convincing. "Just a headache that's been hanging around for a few days."

"When did my bacha learn to lie to  her mother?"

I'm taken aback, unsure how to respond. It was never my intention to build walls between us, but over the years, I've silently chosen to bear my burdens alone. The nights when sleep eludes me, when my own thoughts become my adversaries, and when memories cling too tightly — I've kept these silent battles hidden, tucked away just out of her reach.

"Maham called last night," Amma begins, her voice tinged with concern. "She's worried. You haven't answered her calls, and now you're off work too. Talk to me."

I half-smile, half-sigh. My gaze fixed on the faint patterns in the carpet. "I'm sure Maham's already filled you in. You have your personal reporter."

"It wasn't your fault," Amma says softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You can't save everyone, you know. It's just not in our power."

I shake my head, more to clear my thoughts than to disagree. "It's not about not being able to save him, Amma. It's my duty to try my hardest for every patient. That day, I let my personal feelings take over. I put someone's life at risk for my own reasons. It feels like I've disappointed everyone."

"But you risked a life to save another, right? What does it matter if that other life was a friend's and not a stranger's?" Her voice is soft but firm, pressing for me to see a different perspective.

"Her wounds are still fresh," I whisper, a lump forming in my throat. "It's only been a few months since she lost her brother. She's rejecting therapy, and I was terrified she might do something reckless."

Amma nods slowly, her expression filled with empathy. "We're not angels, Inhal. We can't always be selfless. It's okay to be selfish for the people you love sometimes. Sometimes, being selfish for the people you love is the only way."