CONNECTED HEARTS

37: Threads of destiny

21 Years Ago

The storm outside raged like a wounded heart. Four-year-old Khalid burst into the small room he shared with his older brother, Farouk, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Farouk!" he cried, his tiny voice trembling.

Farouk immediately dropped the toy in his hand and ran to him. "What's wrong?" he asked, scooping Khalid up. Thunder rumbled outside, matching the panic in the child's voice.

Khalid pointed toward their mother's room, sobbing harder.
"Ammi... Ammi's sick," he choked out.

Without wasting a second, Farouk rushed toward the door, still holding his brother's hand.
When they entered, the world stopped.

Their mother, Fatima, lay on the bed, her face twisted in pain. Her hand clutched her stomach, and dark stains spread across the sheets.
"Farouk, call your Abi..." she whispered, her voice barely there.

The two boys froze tears falling, panic rising. Khalid's wails filled the room while Farouk grabbed her phone with trembling hands, scrolling until he found his father's number.

Within minutes, Kabir stormed in, scooped his wife into his arms, and raced to the car through the pouring rain.
At the hospital, Fatima was rushed into the emergency room.

Four long hours crawled by. The boys sat curled together on the cold bench while Kabir paced the corridor like a ghost.

Finally, the doors opened.
A nurse stepped out, her smile soft but bright.
"Congratulations, Mr. Humaydh," she said warmly. "Your wife just gave birth to twins. Both mother and babies are stable."

Kabir froze. Twins. He blinked, then exhaled deeply relief washing over his face.

But moments later, in the doctor's office, that relief shattered.

"I have good news and bad news," the doctor said gently. "Which would you like first?"

Kabir swallowed hard. "The bad news."

The doctor sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kabir... one of the twins didn't make it. You have a beautiful baby girl, but her sister didn't survive."

Kabir's mind went blank. The room tilted grief and gratitude battling for space inside him.

The doctor continued, "Also, your wife's health is fragile. Another pregnancy could endanger her life. It's strongly advised that she never conceives again."

Kabir sat there in silence, hands clasped, eyes distant.
He had one living child.. Kaltoom ...and his wife was alive.
That was all that mattered.

The next morning, Fatima was discharged. Kabir arranged for the family to return to Nigeria immediately. He wanted nothing more to do with Egypt, the place that had almost taken everything from him.

From that day on, he cut all ties. No visits, no memories, no return. When Kaltoom later asked to study in Egypt, Kabir's refusal was instant and final. He blamed Fatima for the decision, but deep down, it was his own fear speaking.

He had loved Fatima endlessly teasing her once, calling her Mother of my twenty-four kids.
Now, that joke hurt to remember.

The loss of the twin left a permanent scar, one they both buried under the quiet rhythm of life.
Only Kabir, Fatima, Farouk, and Khalid knew the truth.
They swore to take it to their graves.

⸻

Meanwhile, in Egypt...

The body of the "deceased" twin was kept in the hospital mortuary, awaiting burial. Kabir couldn't bear to see her.
He kissed the baby's forehead one last time and left instructions for the hospital to perform the burial according to Islamic rites.
Their flight to Nigeria was at dawn.