Jaan-e-Azlan❤

19

Mantasha felt a piercing pain in her head and groaned, struggling to open the heavy lids of her eyes. The effort was immense, and she let out another groan, feeling someone's hand squeezing hers. Distant voices reached her ears, but she couldn't make out to whom they belonged. She tried again, determined to open her eyes. Finally, with great difficulty, she succeeded, only to be met with a blinding white light that made her squint.

Blinking to clear her hazy vision, the first thing she saw was the worried face of Azlan. He was sitting beside her, holding her hand tightly, his concern evident in his eyes. When she groaned in her sleep, he had been there, squeezing her hand gently.

"Mantasha, are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice filled with worry.

She struggled to respond, her throat dry, and she merely nodded slightly. Azlan reached out and gently caressed her face, his touch comforting. She squinted her eyes in confusion, trying to understand where she was and what had happened. Then, like a flood, the memories of the recent accident came crashing back, and her eyes widened in shock.

She started to panic, her breathing becoming rapid, and she tried to sit up, only to cry out in pain. Azlan immediately helped her, adjusting the pillows behind her so she could sit comfortably.

"Azi..." she whimpered, tears streaming down her face. Azlan controlled his own emotions, holding back his tears as he gently hugged her, being careful not to aggravate her injuries.

"It's okay, Mantasha. I'm here," he whispered, his voice soothing. "Everything will be fine."

"Azi... Dada abu..." she managed to say between sobs. Azlan rubbed her head gently, trying to calm her down.

"Shhh," Azlan whispered. "Don't cry, Misha. Everything will be alright."

"How is he?" she asked, slowly backing away from Azlan. He wiped the tears from her face with his thumb.

"He is still in the operating theatre. Inshallah, he will be fine," Azlan said, trying to comfort her. Another tear rolled down her cheek.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault," she said, gripping her hair tightly in distress. Azlan's eyes widened, seeing her panic.

"Hey, what are you doing? Misha! It's not the time to cry. We need to pray for him. You will do it, for him, right?" he said, trying to break through her guilt. She nodded, wiping her face.

"That's like a good girl. Now tell me what happened," Azlan coaxed gently, looking at her with understanding eyes.

"I wanted to eat ice cream, so I came to you, but you were asleep. I didn't want to disturb you or anyone, so I went to the living room and sat there. Dada abu saw me and asked why I was upset, so I told him I wanted ice cream. He suggested we spend time like old days and took me to an ice cream parlor. We were coming back, and I was crossing the road when I didn't see the truck coming. Dada abu yelled at me to look, and that's when I saw it," she recounted, her eyes wide with horror.

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling. "Everything happened so fast. I froze on the spot. Dada abu pushed me to the side, but the truck hit him. There was so much blood, and I didn't know what to do. The people there called an ambulance, and we reached here. I know it's all because of me. I'm so sorry, Azi. I really am," she said, her voice breaking.

Azlan shook his head, his expression firm yet gentle. "It's not your fault, Misha. Trust me, it's not."

After a while, Mantasha, exhausted from the emotional turmoil and the effects of the medication, drifted back into a deep slumber. Azlan sat outside the operation theatre, lost in his thoughts. Soon, his father and Mantasha's father arrived at the hospital. They inquired about the situation, their faces etched with worry.