Epiphany

10:

- Mustafa - 

The moment I saw her stumble, I was out of my chair. "Hadia!"

She barely managed to grip the edge of my desk before her knees gave out. I crossed the room in a few strides, catching her just as she collapsed. Her weight was light in my arms, but the sight of her pale face sent a chill through me.

"Hadia," I said again, this time quieter, shaking her gently. She didn't respond. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, and her usually lively expression was slack.

My pulse quickened, a rare moment of panic piercing through my usual calm. She was burning up, her skin clammy beneath my hands. How had I not noticed how exhausted she'd been looking lately?

Carefully, I shifted her weight, carrying her over to the small leather couch in my office.

Once I laid her down, I sat on the edge of the couch and tried again. "Hadia." Her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn't wake.

I leaned back slightly, raking a hand through my hair. My mind raced. Had I pushed her too hard? For the past week, I'd barely seen her, but I'd made sure her inbox was never empty. Every report, every revision, I'd sent it all to her without a second thought.

It wasn't like me to lose sight of my team's well-being, but Hadia... She was different. I knew she could handle pressure. She was smart, efficient, and, above all, professional. I hadn't expected her to hesitate.

But now, seeing her like this, guilt chewed at me.

I grabbed my phone and called the reception desk. "I need a car brought around. Now," I ordered, my voice sharper than I intended. "Sir?"

"For the hospital," I clarified, already reaching for my jacket to drape over Hadia. "And send someone up with water. Hurry."

The receptionist stammered an acknowledgment before I ended the call. I glanced back at Hadia. Her face was still unnaturally pale, her lips slightly parted as she slept or, more accurately, as she remained unconscious.

As I waited for the car, I stayed by her side, my hand hovering near hers, unsure whether to hold it or keep my distance. It was a rare feeling of uncertainty. And I hated it.

When the car arrived, I carried her downstairs myself, ignoring the surprised looks from the staff still in the building.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked as he opened the door for us. "The nearest hospital," I said curtly, sliding in with Hadia still cradled in my arms.

As the car pulled away, I adjusted her carefully, my jacket slipping slightly from her shoulders. Looking down at her, I felt an unfamiliar tightness in my chest. She looked so fragile, so unlike the composed, sharp-witted woman I was used to.

And yet, even now, she managed to surprise me.

- 
The soft beep of the monitors was the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. I stood near the doorway, arms crossed, watching as the doctor checked Hadia's vitals. She lay on the hospital bed, looking smaller and more fragile than ever.

The doctor finished her examination and turned to me, her expression stern. "She's fine, but she's completely exhausted. Overwork combined with lack of rest has taken a toll on her body."

"Exhaustion?" I repeated, guilt hitting me square in the chest. "Yes. If she doesn't slow down, this could happen again, or worse. She needs rest, hydrate, and proper meals." I nodded, though the weight of her words lingered heavily. This is my fault.

"Make sure she gets time to recover," the doctor added before leaving the room. I sat down on the chair beside the bed, watching Hadia's steady breathing. The sight of her, so vulnerable. Her usual sharpness and wit were absent, replaced by the consequences of my relentless expectations.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. You pushed her too far. The thought burned, and for a moment, I couldn't shake the memory of Sofia walking into my office just a few days ago.

~
It was midweek, and I was wrapping up a call when Sofia knocked on the door and stepped inside.

"Mr. Mustafa," she greeted with a polite smile, holding a file. "These are the updated reports from marketing and HR." "Good," I replied, scanning the folder she handed over.

"Also," she said casually, her tone shifting to something lighter, "I noticed Hadia's been swamped lately. Is there any reason you're drowning her in work?"

I looked up at her sharply. "She's capable." "I didn't say she wasn't," Sofia said, crossing her arms. "But capable doesn't mean she's invincible."

I frowned, leaning back in my chair. "She hasn't said anything." "She wouldn't," Sofia said, a hint of teasing in her tone. "Hadia's like that. She's too proud to complain. But don't pretend you didn't notice."

I didn't respond immediately, her words settling uncomfortably in my mind. Finally, I decided to change the subject. "I overheard something the other day," I said. "Someone mentioned that a man came to see Hadia. Do you know anything about that?"

Sofia's brow lifted slightly. "Oh, you mean Faraz?" "Faraz," I repeated, the name unfamiliar.

"Her neighbor," Sofia clarified. "He came to the office and brought her flowers. Congratulations on landing this job, apparently." Flowers. The word grated on me for some reason. "And?"

Sofia hesitated for a moment, then smirked knowingly. "And he asked her out to dinner." "Did she go?" I asked, too quickly, for my own liking. Sofia tilted her head, studying me. "No. She said she'd try but didn't seem interested. Why?"

"No reason," I said, though the tightness in my chest told a different story. Sofia's smirk widened. "Maybe he likes her," she said playfully. "You know, people tend to date their neighbors all the time. Convenient proximity and all that."

I didn't respond, but the thought irritated me more than it should have.

-
I blinked, snapping out of the memory. Sitting here, staring at Hadia, I realized just how wrong I'd been. My frustration at seeing Faraz that day had driven me to push her harder to assign her task after task until she was buried in work.

And now, she was lying here because of me. I leaned back in my chair, the guilt unbearable. Sofia had been right, Hadia wouldn't complain, no matter how overwhelmed she was.

The thought made my chest tighten. I didn't like the idea of Faraz or anyone thinking they had the right to take up space in Hadia's life. But right now, none of that mattered.

What mattered was her. I stood up, brushing a hand down my face. I couldn't undo what had happened, but I'd be damned if I let it happen again.