The Moment She Saw Him

Part 20

Hamza's POV : 

After Sehar left the hospital, Ziya turned to me with a smile and asked, "Why don't you just tell her you love her?"
I sighed and replied, "I don't know... I want to get to know her better before I say anything."
Ziya raised an eyebrow. "So, are you saying you're not sure about your feelings?"
"It's not that," I said, glancing at her. "I really like her—a lot. I want her to be mine, and I love everything about her. But what if she doesn't feel the same way?" I looked at Ziya, searching for answers. She nodded and then shifted her gaze to Raza, who was standing silently beside me, his eyes fixed on her. Ziya noticed and smiled gently at him.

Leaving Ziya with Raza, I headed to my mom's room. She was sleeping peacefully when I entered. I quietly sat down on the chair beside her bed, and tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at her. Her face was marked with cuts, her upper lip swollen from a piece of glass that had sliced through it, a deep gash on her forehead, and scratches on her cheek. A tear slipped down my face as I took her hand and kissed it gently. I ran my fingers through her hair, then stood up and kissed her forehead. I was utterly exhausted from not having slept the previous night, but seeing my mom safe and resting gave me a sense of relief.

There was a spare bed in the room, and I lay down on it, unable to stop thinking about Sehar. I realized just how much I loved her, but I still didn't know much about her life or her story.

As I lay on the bed, my mind kept drifting back to Sehar. Her smile, her laughter—it was like a warm light in the darkness. I found myself wondering what her favorite things were, what she was like when she was alone, if she had dreams that haunted her the way mine did. I wanted to know everything. But a small voice in my head whispered, "What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if she has someone else in her life?"

I shook my head, trying to clear those thoughts. My eyes shifted back to my mom, lying there so still, so fragile. The reality of her condition pulled me back to the present. I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. How could I be thinking about Sehar when my own mother was hurt and needed me? But I couldn't help it; thoughts of Sehar were like a soothing balm to my raw nerves.

"Get a grip," I muttered to myself. I needed to be strong for Mom, not get lost in daydreams about a girl I barely knew. I squeezed my mom's hand gently, feeling the roughness of the bandages under my fingers. "I'm here, Mom. I'm not going anywhere," I whispered, hoping she could hear me even in her sleep.

But even as I said those words, my thoughts kept slipping back to Sehar. I wondered what she was doing right now, if she was thinking of me too. And with that thought, I finally drifted into a restless sleep, torn between the two women who occupied my heart.