Emanet

|46|: Reunion/ملاپ

Safa could hear the hushed voices and the light touches on her skin. She was aware of the presence of someone or more than one person in the room. She'd been slightly awake for over a while now. Hearing whispers and cries. Squinting her eyes, she heard a chair scrapping before something soft engulfed her hand and a familiar scent wafted past her nostrills.

Ammi.

She opened her eyes with a flash not wanting to miss any second of her time with her. The bright light blinded her a bit and she hissed. The intensity worked as needles on her brain. Pinching, but not penetrating fully.

"Bacche."

She glanced at her mother upon hearing her cracked voice. Tears gathered in her eyes. A mist covering her corneas making it blurry to see. Clutching her mother's hand, she whispered

"Ammi."

The older woman sobbed before throwing her arms around her daughter. Her mother's scent consumed her and she couldn't help but let out cries after cries. Moisture leaking out of her eyes as she felt complete again. Her mother's frail hands ran in her hair before she pressed kisses on her daughter's face. Only she knows how her motherly heart tolerated the separation of her only daughter.

Her beautiful brown eyed doll. How much she prayed to God to bless her with a girl child. She was the answer to her constant prayers. Her father, Iqbal, was head over heels over his daughter. She was his little princess. For her, he would've died had life given him more time. He would have killed Pasha with his own bare hands if he was alive right now. He would have taken his revenge right then and there for ever hurting the apple of his eyes. Rafiqa shifted her head from her daughter's arms and her tears were falling endlessly. Safa wiped those tears and a broken apology left her lips on its own accord

"I'm so sorry, Ammi. I'm so sorry."

Her head dipped in shame and she saw through the corner of her eyes that her husband had left the room providing her privacy with her family.

"Don't, meri jaan. Mae naraz nahi hu. Tum Allah ke karam se theek hu yehi kaafi ha."

(I'm not upset with you. You're alright by Allah's grace. That's enough as is)

Safa smiled and her eyes collided with her brother's. He was looking at her. His gaze remorseful. He was swimming in guilt and shame. Slowly walking to her bed, he sat down. She watched him took a nervous gulp, before she heard his low question

"How are you feeling?"

His question was neutral. She felt confused. Was that true what she saw in those hard eyes of her brother or was it just a fragment of her wild imagination? The question made her restless. She grew agitated all over again.

"It hurts mildly." She squeaked out in a meek voice. It was true. The pain was still there. It stings from time to time. But overall it is bearable. Not that excruciating, but enough to make her feel uncomfortable.

Her brother nodded before going silent again. She looked at her mother as if to ask her with her eyes what's happening with him. Her mother only looked back at her with utter confusion. Not understand her son's behaviour.

"I hope you'll forgive me. I've been too much of a bad brother."

Hamza finally let it out. Safa's gaze softened. Of course, at first she had been angry at her brother for not supporting her through her decision. For not being there for her when she needed him the most. She had been cross, but now after being shot and given life again, she understands one thing.

Life doesn't give you a second chance often. Time doesn't stop for anyone. It goes about it's spin. Nerve caring for the one that were left behind. It runs its own race without giving a damn about its competitors. She can spend her whole life being angry at her brother. Cursing him, badmouthing him. But what will it do? What good it will do to her? The answer is in front of her eyes. Clear and Loud. Written in bolds.