Long one! Enjoy ❤
I knew he was looking at me. I could feel his gaze fiercely burning me. But I couldn't look his way. Not when I don't know what to say to him.
"Saira, bete ghar jao aap. Rest karo aur sukoon se sojao aaj raat." Mummy says.
(Saira, go home dear. Take rest and sleep without any tension.)
"Thodi der aur baith kar yahan. . .phir chalungi ghar."
(I'll stay a little bit longer. . .then go home.)
"Mere bache, aap do din se yehi the. Aaj to Fahad ko hosh bhi aagya. Aap bhi jaake rest karo ghar. Kal subha aajao." Daddy insists. "Exertion hojata bubba, neend sahi nahi hui to."
(My child, you were here since the last two days. And today, even Fahad gained conciousness. You should go and visit tomorrow morning. Otherwise, you'll exert yourself if you don't have a good sleep.)
"Ji," I utter quietly.
"Zareena dinner ready kardiyea hunge. Aap jaake khalo and sleep befikar hoke." I nod as mummy cups my cheek, and pecks my forehead. After giving her a half smile, I walk
over to the couch and begin gathering my stuff.
"Main Imran ko call karke aaya." Daddy excuses himself, making his way out of the room followed by mummy.
I took a peek at Fahad who was still watching me. He opened his mouth but I don't give him a chance and blurted.
"I had to do it! Uss time pe aur kuch samajh nahi aa raha tha. There was no option but to stay here and not go to New York. I couldn't just leave you like that." Carrying my laptop bag and sliding my phone into my jeans pocket, I stand straight holding his gaze.
"I did the right thing, jaan. I know I did the right thing." Stoking his cheek with the pad of my thumb, I murmur. "Zyada socho nahi, araam karo. And, don't call me in your sleep." I joke, leaning down to press my mouth to his bandaged forehead in a kiss.
"I love you."
Fahad doesn't say anything but continues to sit there wordlessly. I pull away, leaving him to himself, and step out of the room I'd spent the last two days in. When I get out of the elevator, Emad is waiting for me in the lobby of the brightly lit ground floor of the hospital.
We greet each other with a small smile, wounding our way out onto the parking lot.
"How is bhaiya?" He questions.
"Conscious and confused," I reply, slipping in the passenger seat with a sigh.
"Matlab?"
"He is confused about me staying back here."
"He said so?"
"Not verbally, but like, his silence said so." Emad snorts at my claim.
"Silence?"
"Yes, silence!" He cracks up again, causing me to frown.
"Laugh all you want. Tumhare saath hua tab pata chalta."
"First, how can you or anyone read silence? Second, apna time nahi aaya."
"Silence ke bhi type hote, jo aapki samajh ke baher hai. You'll have to experience it yourself to know what I am trying to say."
"Sure." He smirks.
"Hogya tumhara? Ab mujhe sugarcane juice pilao, chalo." I order, instantly turning that smirk upside down and allowing the sweet numbness of glee to take over.
That night after dinner, I don't bother changing and switch off the lights of the room with a sigh before pulling the fluffy covers over me. My mind already dragging me back to the dreadful night at the hospital.
Papa, Mumma, Emad and I, stood horror-struck on the white-washed hallway which reeked of nothing but chemicals. Through the glass, I found Fahad lay unconscious under the surgical light on the other side of the swinging door. Wrapped up in bandages almost ever where my eyes could see.
The previous words from the doctor's speech echoed in my ears as he listed out the injuries Fahad had. Broken fingers, fractured elbow, sprained wrist, shattered knee, severe concussion on the head, with a high fever, thanks to the heavy rain. No one knew when he would wake up. The doctors had said if not in the next 6 hours then he'd be in a coma.
Mummy was in hysterics. Imran was devastated. Uncle found it too hard to keep it together. Watching Fahad fight for his life like that left them broken. Weak. Dazed.
The flight we were supposed to catch, obviously, had taken off without us. And, surprisingly enough, we had another flight scheduled on the very next day. The news left me in a thick fog of uncertainty. It was only near Fajr when I sat on the musallah in the middle of the empty waiting area on the floor, did I manage to get a grip on myself.
Walking up to my parents and Pho, who sat on the uncomfortable line of chairs, I announce my final decision.
"Main wapas New York nahi jaari."
(I'm not going back to New York.)
"Our flight is after 12 hours, Saira." Mumma says calmly, as though I didn't know.
"I know. Lekin main aaplog ka saath nahi aari." I affirm, keeping my eyes trained on my father alone. "Main Fahad ko iss haal me nahi chord sakti. Mummy, daddy, Imran kisi ko nahi chord sakti."
(I know. But, I'm not going with you guys. I can't leave Fahad like this. Mummy, daddy, Imran, I can't leave them like this.)
"Lekin, Fahad ko hosh kab aata kisi ko nahi malum. Aaj, kal, ek hafta, ek mahina," I visibly flinch at mumma's insensitive tone, trying not to lose it. "Kab tak rehte? Aur, kahan rehte? Kiske paas rehte? Muqam-e-Ibrahim ko to lock kardiyea. Waha akele nahi reh sakte tum."
(No one knows when Fahad is going to wake up. It might be today, tomorrow, might as well take a week or a month. For how long will you stay? And, where will you stay? They've locked Muqam-e-Ibrahim. You can't stay in that big house all on your own.)
"Filhaal to yahi, hospital main." I affirmed.
"Deewane baatan---"
"Aur Fahad ko hosh aane ke baad, Pho ke ghar." My eyes dart towards her, seeking every bit of reassurance she could offer.
(And after, Fahad gains conciousness, at Pho's house.)
"Doll, meku masla nahi hai aapko apne ghar leke jaane ke. Magar, aap reh sakte yaha Ayan aur Salma ke beghair?" She asked, gently. No traces of shock or mockery in her tone.
(Doll, I have absolutely no problem with you staying with me. But, will you be able to stay without Ayan or Salma?)
"I am a big girl, Pho. US mein 18th birthday ke baad hi move out hojate. Uss hisaab se, main to overstay karli."
(I am a big girl, Pho. Back in the US, kids move out after their 18th birthday. I overstayed.)
"Apan gore nahi hai, Saira." Mumma says sternly. "Apni baat karo tum. Yaha kon tumhara take care karte? Family ke jaisa kon khayal rakhte!"
(We are not Americans, Saira. Speak for yourself. No one is going to look after you like family does.)
"Mumma, Fahad is my family. Mummy, daddy, Imran bhi to meri family hue na. Yaha baat meri nahi, unlogon ki hai. All I'm saying is, main nahi ja sakti iss tarha sab kuch chod ke. Aap meri position bhi to dekho. Main wo ghar ka hissa hu just like main aaplog ka hissa hu. Kaise---" I choke on the words, unable to continue. Papa gets to his feet, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to his warm chest. Tears pricked my eyes, as I try and make my mother understand the situation I am in.
(Fahad is my family. Mummy, daddy and Imran are my family just like you guys are. It's not about me here, it's about them! Put yourself in my shoes and think from my perspective, mumma! How do you expect me to--)
"Bilkul sahi faisla li meri beti." He says, kissing the top of my head. "Bilkul sahi faisla li."
(You've taken the right decision, sweetie. You've taken the right decision.)
I exhale in relief, wailing quietly in his shirt while hugging him back.
"I'm very proud of you, bache." He beams, wiping my cheeks with his fingers. "Fahad ko zaroorat hai aapki. Un sab ko aapki zaroorat hai. They need you." He motions his head to the rear end of the hallway where the Abdullah family sat huddled on the chairs.
But when I continue to bawl my eyes out, grateful my father understood me he puts his large palms on either side of my face, saying, "Strong beti hai na meri?" I hiccup in response and nod, wrapping my hands around his forearms.
"Ayan, kaisa hunga sab? Apan bhi nahi rehte uske saath yaha. Khuda na khasta kuch hogya to?" Mumma reasoned from behind us.
(How is it going to happen, Ayan? If we won't be here as well. God forbid, if something happens what would we do?)
"Maqsood sirf kehne ke liyea daddy nahi bulaya Saira se. Uske hote hue apne ku koi baat ki tension lene ki zaroorat nahi hai. Bina koi shaq ke main bolsaktu ki Maqsood, Saira ko apne beton se zyada apna treat karinga."
(Maqsood didn't make Saira call him daddy just for the sake of saying it. We don't have to worry about anything because we have him. I can say without a doubt, he will treat Saira more than his own kids.)
Papa grabs hold of my hand, and together we cross the hallway over to the Abdullahs. On seeing us approach, daddy jumps to his feet asking if I needed anything. But before I could reply, papa speaks up.
"Tu, aur, tera ghar." Daddy frowns, glancing at me and then at Papa. "Saira humare saath nahi chalri wapas."
(You and your house. Saira is not coming with us.)
"Kiya!" He exclaimed, gaining both Mummy and Imran's attention. "Lekin kyu? Koi zaroorat nahi hai yaha rukne ki aapko. Ayan, tu bola nai? Tu roka Saira ko wapas jaane se? Meku malum tha! Main--"
(What?! But why? There is no need for you to stay here. Ayan, it's you who told her not to go, didn't you? I knew it! I--)
"Daddy, ye mera decision hai." All three pairs of eyes zero in on me. "Papa ko main boli ke main nahi jaari New York. Main aaplog ko nahi chord sakti iss tarha, iss haal me. Fahad ko nahi chord sakti." Mummy bursts into fresh hot tears, rushing to take me in her arms.
(It's my decision, daddy. I told Papa I'm not going back to New York. I can't leave you all like this. Can't leave Fahad in this situation.)
"Hafsa, tum hato yaha se! Bachi ki life ka sawaal hai, aur tum usko samajhane ke bajaye seene se laga liyea." Daddy ridiculed, taking mummy by her shoulders in an attempt to pry her off me.
(Get out of the way, Hafsa! It's about our child's life we're talking about here. Instead of talking her out of this, you are embracing her.)
"Nahi bete. Aap wapas jao, yaha rukna fazool hai aapka." He decided.
(No, bete. You go, it doesn't make sense for you to stay back.)
"Dekh, tu aysa behave kara na meri beti ke saath to acha nahi hunga." Papa jokes, but daddy managed to pay no heed to the humor. Focusing on the words, instead.
(Listen, if you behave with her like that you'll have to face the consequences.)
"Mere bhai, teri beti ke bhale ke liyea bolru main. Uski baat mat sun. Choti hai, nadaan hai. Tu samajh dari se kaam le. Apne saath vapas leke jaa Saira ku."
(I'm saying it for her own good. Don't listen to what she says. She's a child after all. You think like a grown up and take her with you.)
"Papa supports me too, daddy." He glances at his best friend to confirm my words and falls on the chair behind him, holding his head between his palms.
"Kiya karu main iska!" He exclaimed. "Kiya karu?! Khud to shuru se aysa tha. Ab apni beti ko bhi apne jaisa bana liya."
(What am I to do with him?! You were like this from the start. And turned your daughter like yourself, too.)
We chuckle, but one glare from him had us zip our mouths. With a sigh, daddy stands up. A grave expression on his face.
"Saira, are you sure?"
I nod fervently, saying yes, and the rest was history.
I stir in my sleep, trying to snuggle up in the comforter but it just won't budge. Tugging at it again, I groan when I feel it not move and crack my right eye open to see Fahad sitting on it. He smiles, moving his good hand toward me and burrying his fingers in my hair.
"Blanket," I mumble, plodding closer.
"It's time to wake up." He says, cradling my face. I shake my head at his words.
"What are you doing here?"
"Mere room me, mere bed pe, meri T-shirt pehen ke sore aap aur merese poochre what I'm doing here? Bhai, wah!"
(You're the one in my room, sleeping on my bed, wearing my T-shirt and asking me what I'm doing here? Wow!)
I open my mouth to counter that, but then I realized everything he said was true. I was practically living in his room, had kicked him out, and wore his clothes every chance I got. Be it his signature v necks, sweatshirts, or hoodies. I made sure I had it on me.
"You don't like it?" I mumbled.
"I love it." He says, leaning down to kiss my temple but winced causing me to jump into action.
"Nahi bend hona tha, aapko. The doctor had strictly prohibited you from moving around. Jaker baitho ek jagah. And, why are you here in the first place?" Narrowing my brows at him, I demand.
"I love you."
"That's not what I asked."
"I want you to know."
"I know that. And I also know you need to rest as much as possible. It was the condition on which Khanna decided to release you, Fahad." I stress.
"Acha, sorry, Jaana. Just wanted to see if you were up or not." He pouts, jutting his lower lip out and literally driving me crazy.
"Stop doing that!"
"What?" Fahad bats his eyelashes, innocently.
"You know what."
It's been just over 42 hours since he was discharged on the condition that he rests. And my man, appeared to do everything but that. He's turned into a grumpy cranky human, complaining and whining from the couch he was restrained to in the living room. Fixing him with a meaningful stare, which only made him crack up, I end up chuckling and kissing his stubbled cheek.
"Aaj bada pyaar aara." He comments, wrapping his arm around my waist and drawing me closer.
"Mmm. Is that not good?" An emotion clouds over his face, after which he gulps.
"It's good." He uttered the two words with a sudden change in his tone. "But, not. . .you shouldn't have---"
"Fahad, we talked about this." I remind him.
"We didn't talk. You made a spontaneous decision which--"
"I should have. No point arguing about it now that I'm here."
"Saira--"
"You wanna fight?" I practically challenge him with puckered brows. "'Cuz I don't. Not this early."
"I'm not fighting, Jaana." He sighs. "All I'm saying is--"
"'I shouldn't have stayed. It's not fair for me that I give things up and shit.' Guess what? I did it all. For you. I'm not asking for appreciation. I'm not asking you to be grateful, either. Just don't say such crappy stuff to me. I'm not changing my mind no matter what." With that said, I unwrap his hand and throw the blanket off me in a fit. Clearly giving no shit that I was braless under his light-colored half sleeveed tshirt and that he could, maybe, see my nipples. I stomp my way around towards the bathroom, only for him to grab hold of my hand and stop me.
"Jaana,"
And, damn that voice!
"Kiya hai!" I ask as he tugs me backward and pulls me down to his level. "You know, I can't sit on your lap now."
"I don't care." Despite my protest, he adjusts so I fold my legs on either side of his thighs and land my ass on them. "Look at me,"
"You're not listening to me, Fahad!" I whine, pushing my hair behind my ear in frustration. "You promised you won't talk about it anymore. Yet, here you are,"
"I can't help it!"
"You can try, at least." I glance over my shoulder to make sure the door is shut. Imagine someone walking through it and seeing us in the most compromising position. Without nikah.
"I am trying, na. But, nahi hora. I don't--" He paused, inhaling deeply. "I'm sorry."
"You've said that too many times," I whisper, sliding my hands around his neck.
"Can't help it." He smirks, earning a punch on his chest. "Owww!"
"Shit! Sorry, sorry, sorry! Bohot zyada lagi?"
"Haan," Fahad pouts, again.
"Don't. Do. That. Gawd !" Chuckling, I lean in and rest my chin on his left shoulder.
"Can't even hold you properly." He grumbles, making me roll my eyes.
"Kuch nahi hota. You're healing. You're fine!" Giving him one last squeeze, I pull away and get to my feet. "Chalo," I grab the elbow crutch that lay by the foot of the bed and hold it out for Fahad. He grunts as he gets to his feet then winced before looping his left arm into it and standing straight.
"Aap jao. I'll freshen up and join you." Bobbing his head, he limps his way out of the room.
"Jaldi aao. I'm saving you a spot beside me on the table." Smiling at his words, I reply an okay and amble over to the bathroom. I reluctantly peel off another one of his tshirt, quickly brushing my teeth and washing myself. Putting on a simple green kurti over my black leggings, I gather my hair into a ponytail and step out into the living room.
"Assalamalaikum," I greet everyone, sliding into the chair beside Fahad. "So sorry for being late. Pata nahi kyun, aankh hi nahi khuli."
"Koi baat nai, bache," Daddy says, smiling at me from over his morning newspaper, sitting at the head of the dining table. "Humare boys se kaafi zyada early hai aap. Dono to 12 k pehle nai uthte."
(No worries, bache. Atleast you're earlier than our boys, who wouldn't wake up until before 12.)
"C'mon, daddy, office shuru hua jabse mera sona khatam hogaya. College ki baat karre aap." Fahad argues, gesturing me to sit beside him with a tilt of his head.
(C'mon, daddy, that was before my job.)
"Of course! Lekin roz subha mummy ko paani dalke uthana pardta." He comments, earning a snort from me.
(Of course! Every morning mummy had to wake you up with a glass of water on your face.)
"Imran school chale gaye?" I ask not finding him around for our little battle about who gets to sit beside Fahad.
"Mm-hmm. He had to leave early today."
"Saira bibi, aapka naashta," Zarina begum says, placing a plate of eggs and toast before me.
"Thank you, lekin, main aapko boli thi ke sab jo khare mujhe bhi wahi dedo. This is not done." Glancing around at the big dish of Khichdi, lamb kheema, papadams on the table, I click my tongue.
"Humari special beti ke liyea special khana." Mummy beams.
(Special food for our special daughter.)
"Mummy--"
"Not a word. I want that plate clean. Zarina bole meku aap dinner sahi nai kare last night."
"You didn't?" Fahad inquired.
"I. . .tried to."
"Koi baat nai. We'll cook something else tonight. Aapko jo khana hai, aap Zarina ko boldo, she'll make it. Kaafi ache cook hai."
"Nai, daddy, aysi koi baat nahi hai. I'll eat anything. Not a problem."
"Let's talk about this after breakfast." Mummy intervenes, shutting us up. I freeze in my chair when I feel Fahad's hand move against my thigh and haul it over his.
"What are you doing?" I whisper yell.
"Nothing. Just feeling you have breakfast beside me." He shrugs, pulling my chair closer than it already was. With a small smile, I wrap my legs around his left limb which won me that dazzling smile.
"Fahad, do you have an appointment today?"
"Ji hao, mummy. 1 PM ko hai." He answers, taking a spoonful of the yellow rice.
"Imran ghar pe rehta ki nahi, bol nahi sakte. Uh, aap aur Saira uber karlete?" Surprised, I look at mummy with an invisible grimace.
(I don't know of Imran will be home by them. Uh, can you and Saira take an Uber?)
"Um, mummy, I had office work to do."
"How long will it take?"
"Not that long."
"Can it wait until after Fahad's appointment? If not then, I'll go with him." Daddy offers.
"Nahi, uh," I gulp. "I'll go. Zyada bada kaam nahi hai. Hospital se wapas aake karlungi."
How long can sending an email take? 10 minutes, max. Or maybe, a whole day and some more in my case, because it's only a matter of my life.
"Sure?" Fahad turns his head toward me.
"Yeah." We continue to eat, making small talks here and there.
In the last few days, I was quick to fall into the routine of Abdullah household. Starting from when Zarina begum arrives, bringing the morning newspaper with her, to the evening tea and the last meal of the day. How they ate together, sat together talking about their day, laughed together. Everything felt really homey. A sense of belonging filled me. As though, I've lived here my entire life.
"I can see the bones of the knee heal. Which is good." Doctor Khanna says, nodding his head at the screen. "But, at this point, it gets even more easier to worsen the injury. I insist, he does not leave bed and exert himself. The concussion also seems to come around. No need to worry about anything. Just make sure he rests."
"That is the hardest part," I mutter under my breath.
"Sorry?"
"Oh, um, I'm really grateful for everything you've done, Doc. Really appreciate it."
"It's my job." He smiles, glancing at Fahad behind me. "He'll be alright. Strong man. Don't worry."
"That, he is. Thank you Dr. Khanna. Have a good one." I say, helping Fahad out onto the hallway.
"So, what is the hardest part, again?" He arches a brow as we walk towards the elevator.
"Keeping you in a place."
"I'm used to moving around alot."
"You'll have to change your habits then." We step into the empty lift, watching the door slide close.
"I will, if I'm not abandoned on the couch in the living room while everyone else is in their own rooms. Including you." He jabs a finger in my forehead.
"Fine. I'll give you company."
"Company? Ye nahi ke, hone wale shohar ka khayaal rakhinge. Poochinge ke, jaan, aap theek hai ya nai, dard hora nahi hora, kaha hora? Ye sab chordke aap 'company' dere meku?" He clucks.
(Company? Instead of asking your husband-to-be if he's alright, if he needed anything, or does it hurt anywhere, you will give me company?)
"Ufff, uff, drame! I should've named you drama king instead of Hitler. Suits you more."
"Hogya?"
"Ji. Aapka bhi hogaya?"
"Huh."
"Sugarcane juice is waiting for us, chalo." I point to the cart on our right as we step out through the rotating glass doors of the hospital. Ordering two large glasses of goodies, I pull out my phone for booking an Uber.
"You know, ye trip me sabse zyada hospital gayi main." I snort. "First week, right after landing, phir humare tour wale din when I fainted. Um, then was on my birthday. And now, if I'm not missing anything."
"Ye joke tha?" Fahad asks shooting me a look.
"Tha toh?"
"I don't like jokes."
"I don't like you."
"Ha!"
"Ha!"
"Ha ha!"
"Ha--"
"Mere paise de ke haslo poora." I'm cut off by the juice man. Smiling politely at him, I slide a 50 rupee note in his hand.
(Laugh all you want after paying me.)
"Such a charmer, Mr. Abdullah. Hone wali biwi se bill pay kar ware." I comment, clicking my sling bag close with. My phone pings, indicating our ride is here as I was gathering Fahad's files in my arm again.
(Such a charmer, Mr. Abdullah. Making your wife-to-be pay the bill.)
"Aap lady boss hai. Boss ko kaisa koi rok sakte." Fahad smirks, slowly making his way beside me to the vehicle.
(You are the lady boss. How can anyone turn down his boss?)
"Badi zalim aur matlabi dunya hai waise!" He chuckles, leaning down to peck my nose. I pull the car door open for him to sit before walking around to my side.
(It's a cruel mean world.)
"You okay?" I ask, glancing at Fahad who gives a low grunt, slightly moving in his seat then nods.
"Ghalat side baithe tum. Can't hold your hand now." He complains once I settle on his right. We drive out onto the main road and zoom past the mid Friday traffic effortlessly.
"I'm right here." I coo gently, leaning on his shoulder. He hums, resting his head over mine. "Allah, your head is heavy, jaan."
"Bardasht karo."
A few moments later, I hear my phone ping with a new notification. Fetching it out from my bag, I click it on to see an email icon on the screen. My heart skipping a beat.
So, they did it before me, huh? I mock myself silently.
Without a second thought, I swipe into my account and over to the unread email. My gaze zeroes on the sentence highlighted in red, that decided my fate at Intech NYC.
Just as I was about to type in my reply, Fahad snatches the device from my hands.
"Fahad, wapas do!" I panic, stretching my arms to reach his.
"Let me see what's on it." He says before reading it aloud. "This is the last notice for Ms. Malik. You are to report to Intech NYC, in no less than 72 hours in order to keep your contract---"
My mind went on a code red. The words, 'I Am Fucked' flashing before me. Clamping my eyes shut, I press my lips together.
"Saira,"
No, no, no!
"Meri taraf dekho. Look at me!" My gaze slowly locked on his. "You said everything was fine. And that they agreed on giving you a medical emergency extension to stay here--- You lied." He said in a voice barely above a whisper.
Thankfully, the vehicle had come to a halt. Without wasting another minute, I kick the door to my side open and jump out. Running into the house for my dear life.
💔
Enlighten me with your thoughts on how the story is going. Who's teams are you on? Fahad or Saira?
I absolutely love to hear from all of you! 💞
See you in the next chapter.
Hasta la vista, babezz! 😘👋🏻
XOXO
~𝓓𝓲𝓱𝓪