Kabhi main, kabhi tum, kabhi yeh, kabhi voh

Part 21: Déjà Vu

Mustafa froze for a moment, the weight of his mother's words pressing heavily on his chest. "Main-main aata hoon," he said into the phone, his voice steady but strained. As he hung up, he stood still, his mind racing.

"Mustafa," Sharjeena called out softly, her concern evident in her tone. "Kya hua? Ammi ne kya kaha?"

He turned to her, his face pale. "Abbu hospital mein hain," he said quietly, his voice heavy with worry.

Sharjeena's eyes widened in shock. "Ya Allah... hua kya?"

"Exactly nahi pata par kuch heart se related," he replied briefly, his voice trailing off as he rubbed his forehead, clearly overwhelmed.

"Chalo, let's go," she said immediately, moving toward the bedroom to grab her coat.

Mustafa stopped her, gently holding her hand. "Nahi, Sharjeena. Main is waqt tumhein apne saath nahi le ja sakta." His voice was firm but tinged with hesitation.

"Kyun nahi?" she asked, confused and a little hurt. "I'll be fine, Mustafa. Tumko meri zarurat hai."

He sighed deeply and looked at her, his gaze softening. "Tum pregnant ho, Sharjeena. Pata nahi vahaan kitni der rukna hoga. Puri raat bhi lag sakti hai. Tum kaise rahogi! Aur yeh bhi nahi pata abhi ki kaun kaun hoga vahaan... Adeel, Rubab..." His jaw clenched slightly at the thought of his brother and sister-in-law. "Main nahi chahta ki tum abhi in logon ko face karo ya bina baat ka koi stress lo."

She stepped closer, holding his arm. "Mustafa, I'm not worried about them. I just want to be there for you."

He hesitated, torn between wanting her by his side and the desire to protect her from any potential chaos. Finally, he said, "Ek kaam karo.Grab a coat and your overnight bag. Main tumhein tumhari ammi ka ghar drop kar deta hoon."

"Mustafa, no," she said firmly, shaking her head. "Is waqt unko pareshan karna theek nahi hai. Tum jaao. Main ghar ruk jaati hoon. Kuch hua toh I'll call you. I promise."

He looked at her, uncertain. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice soft but full of concern.

"Haan," she reassured him. "Tum jaldi jaao. Aur delay mat karo. You need to go now. I'll be fine."

He exhaled deeply, nodding reluctantly. "Okay," he said, his voice laced with worry. "But promise me ki tum abhi dawaai logi aur so jaaogi. Aur kuch bhi hua toh mujhe phone karogi. Promise karo, Sharjeena."

"I promise," she said, her hand resting gently on his arm.

He quickly changed his clothes, grabbed his car keys, and kissed her forehead lightly. "Dhyaan rakhna, theek hai?"

"I will," she said softly, watching him rush out the door.

As the door closed behind him, the silence of the house enveloped her. Sharjeena sat down in the living room, her hands trembling slightly. She clasped them together and whispered a prayer under her breath, asking for her father-in-law's recovery and Mustafa's strength to face whatever lay ahead. Her heart felt heavy, but she stayed strong, knowing that Mustafa needed her to be.

Mustafa's drive to the hospital felt unbearably long, his mind clouded with worry and unease. Every red light, every slow-moving vehicle added to the weight in his chest. By the time he parked in the hospital lot and stepped out of the car, he felt a knot of emotions tightening in his stomach.

As he entered the hospital, the sterile smell of disinfectant hit him, making everything feel even more daunting. He walked up to the reception desk, his voice calm but strained as he enquired about his father, "Iftekar Ahmed, please. Kahaan pe admit hain?" The nurse at the desk directed him to the ward on the second floor.