𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

30 [Part I]

  Arsalan POV:

I leave the room, ready to head out for work, but stop when I see Airah in the kitchen, washing the dishes with pure determination. I've told her so many times not to do those, especially after I bought a dishwasher last week. She didn't listen, though, saying it was just a waste of money. I smile to myself as I watch her for a moment. The morning light spills through the window, casting a soft glow on her as she scrubs a plate with focused intensity. There's something incredibly endearing about her commitment to even the simplest tasks. I slowly walk towards her, my footsteps silent on the tile floor. As I get closer, her sweet scent envelops me—a mix of fresh soap and something distinctly hers.

Standing behind her, I lean down so that my mouth is beside her ear. "I'm leaving," I whisper softly.

She freezes, her eyes widening with shock. Then she turns to face me, her hands on her hips, and glares at me. Somehow, I find her annoyance incredibly cute. "Arsalan, can you please make some noise while moving? You scared the shit out of me right now."

I can't help but laugh, the sound coming out warm and light. She's so adorable, so small, and so undeniably mine. Wait, what the hell did I just think?

Airah huffs and turns back to the sink, but I catch a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You need to stop sneaking up on people like that," she mutters.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," I say, still chuckling. "You're just so focused, it's impressive."

She shakes her head, her hair swaying slightly. "Well, maybe you should be more considerate of my poor heart next time."

I grin, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Noted. I'll be sure to make a racket next time."

She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, a playful glint there. "You better. Now go, you're going to be late."

I take a step back, still smiling as I watch her for a moment longer. "Alright, I'm going. Have a good day, Airah."

She nods, already turning back to the dishes. "You too. And don't forget to pick up some groceries on your way back."

"I won't," I promise. Just as I'm about to leave, I pause at the door and turn back to her. "Oh, by the way, get ready tonight. I'm taking you somewhere."

She looks up, curiosity flashing in her eyes. "Where?"

I wink at her, feeling a mischievous thrill. "It's a surprise. And I'll be coming home early."

She rolls her eyes but can't hide her smile. "Fine, but it better be good."

"It will be," I assure her, my heart fluttering a little at the thought. With one last glance, I head out the door, feeling a strange warmth in my chest that I can't quite explain. At the clinic, the day starts like any other. I begin my rounds, checking on patients, making notes, and consulting with colleagues. One of my first appointments is with Liam, a VIP patient who has Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). Liam is a complex case, but over the months, we've made significant progress. His episodes of intense emotional instability have become less frequent, and he's learning to manage his impulses better.

"Good morning, Liam," I greet him as I enter his room.

"Morning, Doc," he replies, a faint smile on his lips. "Ready for another round of psychoanalysis?"

I chuckle. "Always. How have you been feeling since our last session?"

Liam leans back, his expression turning serious. "Better, I think. The mindfulness exercises you recommended are helping. I had a rough patch last weekend, though. Felt like I was spiraling, but I remembered what you said about grounding techniques."

We delve into the details of his week, discussing triggers and coping strategies. Each session with Liam reminds me of the delicate balance between understanding and managing BPD. It's challenging, but seeing his gradual improvement is rewarding.

After the session, I head to a meeting with my colleague, Dr. Cole, to discuss a new patient intake. The morning flies by in a blur of consultations and paperwork.

During lunch, Adam joins me in the break room. He's been unusually inquisitive about Islam lately, and today is no different.

"Hey Arsalan, I've been reading about the concept of 'Tawakkul'. Can you explain it to me?" he asks, his brow furrowed in curiosity.

"Tawakkul means trusting and relying on Allah," I explain. "It's about having faith that things will work out as they are meant to, while also putting in the necessary effort from your side."

Adam nods thoughtfully. "That's interesting. So it's like finding a balance between effort and faith?"

"Exactly," I say, appreciating his genuine interest. "It's not just about sitting back and expecting things to happen. You do your part and trust that Allah will take care of the rest."

Throughout the day, Adam continues to ask more questions about Islam. "What's the significance of Salah?" he asks at one point.

"Salah, or prayer, is a way to maintain a direct connection with Allah," I explain. "It's a reminder of our purpose and helps us stay grounded and focused."

Adam listens intently, his curiosity evident. "And what about fasting? How does that fit into everything?"

"Fasting during Ramadan is about self-discipline, empathy, and spiritual growth," I reply. "It's a time to reflect, to feel the hunger of those less fortunate, and to strengthen our connection with Allah."

His questions are endless, and I answer them patiently. Finally, I ask, "Why all the questions, Adam? Not that I mind, but you seem really interested."

He shrugs, a faint smile on his lips. "Just curious, I guess. There's a lot I don't know, and you're the best person to ask."

Adam and I became friends quickly when I moved to the USA for work. We were both rookie psychiatrists, fresh out of residency and eager to make our mark. Our shared passion for understanding the human mind and helping others formed the foundation of our friendship. Over time, I learned about his background – how he was an orphan but got adopted later. His resilience and determination inspired me, and we've supported each other through the ups and downs of our careers.

Just as it is past 1 o'clock, I leave. Starting my car, I check my phone. A few days ago, when I posted a photo of me and Airah in the rain, Tariq was the first to comment on it.

I scroll to the post, the image capturing a candid moment of us laughing, drenched but happy. The memory brings a smile to my face. I notice Tariq's comment right at the top:

The-gentleman-Tariq: "Look at you two, acting like you're in a Bollywood movie! 😂"

I keep scrolling through the comments, noticing more from Tariq:

The-gentleman-Tariq: "Next time, invite me to the rain dance party! 🌧️💃🕺"

Then, Tariq's teasing escalates:

The-gentleman-Tariq: "Bhai, is this your new workout routine? Chasing Appi in the rain? 🏃‍♂️💦"

The-gentleman-Tariq: "Who knew a little rain could make someone look so whipped, Bhai? Appi's got you wrapped around her finger! 😏"

The-gentleman-Tariq: "Bro, you sure you didn't pay for that rain? Perfect romantic setup! 🌧️🎬"

The-gentleman-Tariq: "Did anyone else hear violins playing when they saw this picture, or was it just me? 🎻💕"

I chuckle at Tariq's relentless teasing, appreciating his humorous comments. But then I notice a comment from Yasir:

Yasir.Sidd: "Someone seems to be jealous over here."

As I continue scrolling, I see comments from Ziya, Iqra, Talbiya, and Hiba:

Ziya.siddiqui: "Mashallah! You both look so happy together! ❤️"

Iqra._qui: "You guys are goals! Mashallah! 😍"

Siddiqui.talbiya: "Mashallah, may your love keep growing stronger with each passing day! ❤️"

_.Hiba._: "Looking good, you two! Mashallah! 🌟"

I feel a surge of warmth at their kind words. It's moments like these that remind me of how lucky I am to have Airah by my side. Smiling, I put my phone away and focus on the road ahead, eager to get home to her.