Emanet

|44|: Wait/اِنتظار

کون کہتا ہے وقت تیزی سے گزرتا ہے
تم کبھی کسی کا انتظار کر کے تو دیکھو

Blazing horns, fast speeding car. Panic and shouts that were all Subhan could register in his mind other than the limp body of his wife in his arms. She lost her consciousness a long while ago. The blood hasn't stopped flowing and he knew it won't. That's why it had him shouting. Shaken to his core.

"Tez chalou, Altamash. Gari tez chalou."
(Drive fast, Altamash. Drive the car fast)

Altamash only pressed harder on the brakes. Sweats beads were forming on his forehead. He glanced at his friend from the rearview mirror and the expression on his face terrified the hell out of him.

"Is she okay?"

He questioned in a very slow voice. He could see his question was unheard as the man only gazed at his wife like she was the only person on this planet that matters the most to him. A silent prayer left his lips as he turned on a corner to save Safa. She has gone through a great deal of trauma. She deserves to be happier more than anyone right now. Both his friend and she deserve to have a happily ever after with each other. But the mere single thought of anything happening to Safa, freaks him out. Because they won't be losing Safa only, Subhan will die with her. Without her, he's a kite that's thread has been cut and it just flows endlessly until eventually falling to the ground. To it's end.

The time didn't allow him to dwell so much in his depressive thoughts as he screeched the tires and the car came to a halt. Sprinting, he shouted

"Help us. We need a stretcher. She's been shot."

It only took a few second before the staff came running with the stretcher. Subhan stepped out the car while holding her body in his arms and carefully, very gently he laid his wife, the woman he loves onto the white steel metal. Her lips had gone pale. Her face was ashen. The blood soaked her dupatta that was around her wounded area. Subhan ran with her as they rolled the stretcher. A doctor came running and inspected her condition. Putting two fingers on her neck, he stated

"Pulse is too low. A gunshot wound. Take her to the OT."

The stretcher was rolled to the operation theatre and that's when they stopped him.

"Sir you can't enter inside. Stay here and wait for the news."

The nurse told him before disappearing behind the sliding door. He fell down to his knees as it became harder to breath. He took in a huge lunge of air, calming the burn that was in his lungs. But nothing really worked. Covering his face with his hands, he breathed. He felt a tap on his shoulder before a figure was crouched beside him.

"She'll be fine, brother. Don't worry."

Altamash softly assured him while patting his shoulder. The last he saw his best friend like this was on his brother's funeral. He looked a shadow of himself that day, but today, right now as he sat beside him looking at him, stares at his terror stricken face, he looks half dead like all life has been snatched, shrunk from his body and all that's left is only a mass of meat and bones.

"There was..so much....blood. Her pulse is weak.....she was beaten...oh God."

He swayed to the side and kept his head on the wall. He has never felt this hopeless ever in his life. Altamash was quickly by his side. He heard him saying something to him like calling his family and her's but he blocked him out. He closed his eyes to feel some calm or control but the images of her being shot played in his mind. He should have reacted sooner. He saw Pasha pointing a gun at her. He should have pushed her and taken the fall. He was a microsecond late and now she's fighting for her life.