3.
"Humme Tumme, kuch toh hai"
Zoya
I watched him talk on the phone, tense and stiff.
It wasn't them.
The inspector had called us to inform that the morning of shooting, his uncle had already been in jail with his accomplices. Some of his minions had confessed to their crimes and nowhere near those confessions was shooting Mr. Khan.
My hands clenched the wet cloth I held, as my knees buckled. I gave into their lack of action and sat down on the green settee in Asad's room.
The nurse had been terribly late for her appointment. When I walked over to check on him, I noticed his bandage bleed and helped him up to change it.
His body had retreated as if shocked by my offer, he was unwilling I could tell, but gave in for fear of further infection happening. Phuphi and Najma were fast asleep from two sleepless nights at the hospital. And who knew where that unreliable nurse was.
"Unless you want to trouble phuphi with your stubbornness Mr. Khan, sit still" I'd chastised him as his phone rang. He was stubborn though. As always.
As I handed him the device, I'd walked back to the table beside the small sofa to clean the cotton cloth I'd used to wipe his bronze skin.
That's when the bomb dropped.
"So, you mean to tell me that it wasn't them?" his voice was quiet with unrestrained anger.
Stillness surrounded him as he got the unexpected answer. If I didn't know he was a fast-moving, fire-spitting man on a normal basis, I would have thought he was carved out of marble.
I couldn't blame him though; my knees had given out a while back.
"Then why don't we figure out who that is then" he said in an eerily calm manner. I could see the nerve in his forehead bulging, ready to explode. The concern for his health put life back into me and I moved towards him.
There were no words to describe the panic in either our bodies, hearts, souls or mind. So, I relied on lightly squeezing his uninjured shoulder.
He closed his eyes at the touch of our skins and inhaled a deep breath, disconnecting the phone.
A few minutes passed before he spoke, "I have no trust in them. Aaj phone karke bata rahein hain, the people they were looking for two days ago were in their own remand."
He looked at me then, eyes dreadful and boiling. It was unspoken that I was with him. But I told him, nonetheless.
"Then we can figure it out ourselves. I am not putting you in danger again" Something in his eyes flickered. I caught myself in time.
"I mean you, phuphi and najma, and well me" I tried to chuckle but it sounded more like i was dying.
He sat up straighter, flinching at the pain. My hands butterflied around him helplessly.
"Ms. Faaroqui, did you see him? I remember when you were" he stopped and took a breath, like he was calming himself "fighting him off. did you manage to see anything? We can call a sketch artist...and we can...we can talk to a private detective. I can have all business rivals listed and when we list them, we can go through them and then maybe it's them, maybe it's those vile siddiquis; after all they are the biggest rivals but ammi why ammi,i don't under..."
I felt the panic and worry seeping out from him make way into me, he was stuttering on his words and it felt like he was closing himself in thick panic induced walls.
