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Zoya
I pushed open the door and stepped into the room where they had kept Ahad.
I must admit, I looked very different to how I usually looked: I wore a plain light blue and white shalwar kameez, with a white dupatta draped over my head. My hair was in a messy pony, and I wore no make-up. I must look like a bechari from a TV show.
As my eyes landed on Ahad, lying on the bed with his eyes closed, tears automatically slipped out of my eyes. He looked so...hurt. I slowly walked towards his bed, my slippers scuffing against the grey hospital floor. I wanted to throw myself in his arms, but for obvious reasons, that was not a good idea.
He opened his eyes as he heard me approach, looking at me. "W-Who are you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Cut the act. The doctor said that there are no injuries to your head."
"Are you a hoor?" He widened his eyes.
*Hoors are women/angels of heaven, said to be incredibly beautiful.
"I'm not a hoor, but I will definitely be your worst nightmare if you don't stop acting!" I snapped. " For Allah's sake, Ahad, I'm tensed enough as it is. I was this close to dying with worry." I pressed my index finger against my thumb and held it up for him to see.
He smirked. "I've never seen you so vulnerable."
"I can say the same about you." I put a hand on his forehead, before moving down to his neck. Pressing my finger on his throat, I felt his pulse, and I am not exaggerating, but the feeling of his heart beating underneath my finger was giving my own heart a new life. "How are you feeling?"
"How's my bike?" He actually looked worried.
I smacked my palm against my forehead*. "Can you worry about that later?"
*I know facepalm is technically a word, but I don't know why I don't like using it too much. That word annoys me. I'm weird this way. I find some words annoying.
"It wasn't my fault." He shook his head lightly. "Not this time."
"I know. And Zafar Bhai said that he'll go after whoever did this to you." I whispered. "He'll find him and hang him."
