MOHSIN'S POV
I was in the middle of an important meeting, when my phone rang, its shrill sound cutting through the usual office chatter. Without thinking, I answered, and the words that followed sent my world crashing down.
"Sir, there’s been a blast at your home... your wife, she’s injured. She’s being rushed to the hospital.”
The room around me blurred as I tried to comprehend what I’d just heard. I couldn’t breathe for a moment. Panic surged through me like wildfire.
"Cancel everything," I said, my voice barely steady. My team looked at me, confused, but I didn’t have time to explain. Nothing else mattered at that moment except her.
The drive to the hospital felt like a lifetime. Every minute stretched into an eternity, and all I could think of was her—her smile, her laugh, the warmth of her touch. What if she’s... No, I couldn’t even finish the thought. She had to be okay. She *had* to be.
When I finally reached the hospital, I bolted through the doors, my heart pounding in my chest. The receptionist pointed me in the direction of the emergency room, and I ran, not caring who or what was in my way.
As I rushed through the hospital doors, everything around me became a blur—the white walls, the faint smell of antiseptic, the beeping machines. All I could focus on was her—*my wife.* My heart pounded in my chest, echoing the desperate thoughts in my mind. I couldn’t lose her, not after everything we’d been through.
I found her room and paused at the doorway, my breath catching in my throat. She was lying on the hospital bed, looking so fragile, an oxygen mask covering part of her face, and bandages on her arms. The sight of her bruised and in pain made my chest tighten, but the moment her eyes met mine, I saw relief in her gaze. That look in her eyes, the soft recognition, made the weight of the world lift off my shoulders.
I quickly made my way to her side, my hands trembling as I reached for hers. Her skin felt warm beneath my fingers, even though her grip was weak. I bent down, kissing her forehead gently, letting the warmth of her touch ground me.
"Hey... I’m here now," I whispered, my voice shaking. My thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles, and I squeezed her hand, needing to feel her, to know she was still with me.
She gave me a faint smile through the oxygen mask, her eyes soft despite the pain she was in. “I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but enough to send a wave of relief through me.
“I should’ve been there,” I muttered, guilt tugging at me. “I should have protected you.”
She shook her head slowly, her fingers weakly gripping mine. "You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault."
I couldn’t help it—I leaned down, cupping her face gently with my free hand, careful not to hurt her. I kissed her softly, my lips lingering on her skin as if that could heal her, protect her from everything. "I love you," I whispered against her forehead, my heart heavy with emotion. "You mean everything to me I was so scared and I’m not going anywhere," I told her, my voice thick with emotion. "And nothing, no one, will ever come between us."
She smiled at me, that beautiful smile that always made my heart flutter, and even though she was hurt, she still had the strength to make me feel whole. "I know," she said again, her eyes softening as she gazed up at me.
I cupped her face gently, my heart still racing as I searched her eyes. “How did this happen?” I asked, my voice a mixture of fear and anger.
She winced slightly but tried to smile, her hand resting over mine as she looked at me. “I… I think it was the gas. I was in the kitchen, and maybe I didn’t notice it.”
