WINNER OF HEART♡

◇part 3◇

I sighed and approached her, calling her name a little louder than usual, "Janan." She turned around, looking at me with a puzzled expression, her eyebrows furrowed. I gestured for her to join me on the roof. She nodded in response. I went ahead, waiting for her to arrive. When she did, I couldn't help but say, "You're so beautiful, Janan." She came closer and asked, "What's going on?"

Clearing my throat, I asked, "Are you still angry with me?" She shook her head, and I sighed in relief.

"Anything else, Mr. Moron?" she teased. I chuckled, "Only you have the right to talk to me like that." I could see her blushing. "Ahan, my baby is turning red," I teased back. She playfully hit me with her phone, saying, "Such a cheesy man." I laughed and replied, "I've missed this Janan, my Janan."

"I'm going now; I have to check on some patients," she informed me as she was leaving. I gently tugged at her abaya with two fingers. She looked back and asked, "What now?"

I gazed into her eyes and softly said, "Stay with me for a while." Her expression softened, but she replied, "Ramin, you know I can't." I sighed as she walked away.

Later, I was in my dad's room when his heart rate suddenly dropped. Panic-stricken, I immediately called Janan. She rushed in, checking on my dad, and began administering CPR. His heartbeat gradually normalized. She then injected him with something before coming over to me. "Ramin, we need to operate on him," she said.

Terrified, I pleaded, "Do whatever it takes, just save my dad."

"I'll do my best," she assured me before leaving. Moments later, nurses arrived, explaining that the surgery had to happen immediately due to his critical condition. I could barely speak, tears streaming down my face.

As preparations for the surgery began, I sat on a bench near the operating room, my mum beside me, crying. I held her hand and tried to reassure her, "Don't worry, Mum. Everything will be fine."

"Yes, my son, Jesus is with us," she replied.

The surgery hadn't started yet, and I was staring at my lap when I abruptly heard Janan's voice. She was approaching, dressed in a blue shirt and matching pants, her head covered with a hijab. Kneeling beside me, she spoke gently, "We'll save your dad, Inshallah. Pray for him." My mum caressed her head, saying, "I trust you, my child." We both smiled at her, and she headed to the operating room.

Two hours passed, and they were still operating on my dad. My mum continued to cry, so I hugged her from the side and kissed her forehead. Finally, Janan and some other doctors emerged, discussing something. Then Janan approached me with a smile.

In a broken voice, I asked, "M...y Da...d?"

She smiled warmly, "Your dad is completely fine, Alhamdulillah. We did it, Ramin." My mum hugged her tightly, and she returned the embrace. "Thank you so much, Janan," my mum said.

I approached Janan and asked, "Can I hug you?" She shook her head, refusing. "But why, Princess?" I asked, puzzled.

With a sigh, she explained, "Because you're a na mahram to me."

"What is a na mahram?" I inquired.

"I'll tell you later," she said, and then left. As she glanced back at me, I blew her a kiss. "Ah, these rosy cheeks will be the death of me," I thought to myself.

Some nurses were transferring my dad to his room, and my mum and I followed. They gently placed him on the bed; he was still unconscious. My mum sat at the edge of the bed, tenderly caressing his hair. I watched them, smiling.

At 7 pm, I went to meet Janan. I knocked on her door, but it wasn't locked, so I slightly opened it. I saw Janan praying, her forehead touching the ground in prostration. I heard her sob, and my heart skipped a beat. I quietly sat beside her on the floor. She finished her prayer, her hands resting on her lap, her eyes puffy from crying. Seeing her like this pained me deeply, and I softly spoke, "Janan, my beloved princess."