Eternity

Chapter 38

As-salamu alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuhu

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Zayan walked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished tiles. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all centered around the woman he had left behind in that sterile, white-walled room. Ayzal—his wife, his enemy, his tormentor, his victim. The contradictions she embodied were enough to drive him mad, and yet he couldn’t escape the pull she had on him, a pull that was becoming harder to ignore with each passing day.

As he reached the end of the corridor, Zayan paused, leaning against the wall for support. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. The hospital’s muted hum buzzed in his ears, a constant reminder of the reality he was trapped in. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. When he married Ayzal, he had envisioned a life defined by distance—a life where they would coexist without ever truly crossing the boundaries that separated them. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t let her get too close, wouldn’t allow her to penetrate the walls he had so carefully constructed around his heart.

But now, those walls were crumbling, brick by brick, and Zayan was terrified of what he might find on the other side.

He pulled out his phone and stared at the screen for a moment, hesitating. The last thing he wanted to do was call Ayzal’s mother and yet, he knew he had no choice. Ayzal had asked for her and Zayan couldn’t bring himself to deny her request.

With a deep breath, he dialed the number. The phone rang once, twice, and then there was a click as the call connected.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end was cold, clipped—exactly as he remembered it. Zayan clenched his jaw.

“Mother,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and he could almost picture the expression on her face, the calculating look that she always seemed to wear.

“Zayan,” she replied, her tone neutral. “What is it? Why are you calling me?”

“Ayzal… she is in the hospital,” Zayan said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “She wants to see you.”

Another pause, longer this time. Zayan could hear the faint sound of her breathing, could imagine the wheels turning in her mind as she processed his words.

“Is she alright?” her voice was filled with concern.

“She is stable, but…” Zayan hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal.

“But what?” she pressed, her voice sharpening ever so slightly.

“She has been through a lot,” Zayan finally said, evading the question. “She needs you.”

There was another silence on the line, this one filled with an almost palpable tension. Zayan could feel it, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

“I will be there,” she finally said, her voice breaking. “Tell her I am coming.”

The line went dead, and Zayan was left standing there, staring at the phone in his hand, feeling a strange mix of relief and unease. He had done what Ayzal had asked—he had called her mother. But the act itself felt hollow, meaningless. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t erase the hurt, didn’t undo the damage that had been done.