Epiphany

11:

- Hadia - 

The harsh lights overhead stung my eyes as I slowly blinked them open. My head felt like a hammer was pounding inside it, and I could barely make sense of what was happening around me. The faint scent of antiseptic filled the air, and for a moment, I couldn't remember how I ended up here.

The first thing I saw was Mustafa, sitting in a chair beside my hospital bed, staring down at his phone, his face expressionless. His presence was unmistakable, but the cold distance between us was so tangible that I could almost reach out and touch it.

"Sir?" My voice was rough, weak, and I almost didn't recognize it as my own.

His head snapped up at the sound of my voice. His eyes softened, just for a moment, before he masked whatever emotion had flickered across his face. "You're awake," he said, his tone clipped. "The doctor said you overworked yourself. You're not going to do that again, are you?"

I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my body, forcing me to collapse back onto the bed. "What... happened?" I rasped, my throat dry. "You passed out," he answered flatly. "You're lucky you didn't collapse in the office. You need to take it easy."

I nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. I had been pushing myself too hard, trying to prove myself, trying to keep up with everything. But here I was, lying in a hospital bed, feeling like I'd failed.

Mustafa's gaze didn't soften. He reached for his phone again, quickly dialing a number. "Ahmad and Aliza are on their way. You'll have the week off," he said, his voice practical, devoid of emotion. "Rest up."

I looked at him, wondering if there was anything else he had to say, anything that wasn't related to work, or his responsibilities as my boss. But before I could ask, he was already moving, his focus on the phone call. There was no sign of concern for me as a person, no trace of kindness beyond the minimum.

"Take care of yourself," he added, his words detached, like he was talking to an employee. "Rest, and when you come back, make sure you don't push yourself like this again." I couldn't suppress the bitterness that bubbled up inside me. "Thank you," I said, but it came out flat, lacking any real gratitude.

He looked at me, his gaze hard and unreadable. "It's my job," he replied, standing up. "Get some rest." He walked out without another word, leaving me alone with nothing but the sterile hospital room and the echoes of his cold, professional detachment.

The week passed in a blur. I slept, ate, and took care of myself as best I could. My siblings took care of me every day, checking in on me, making sure I was okay. But the emotional exhaustion lingered, even as I started to feel physically better. Mr. Mustafa's lack of presence, his distance, still teared at me. He hadn't called or even checked in. I knew that, for him, this was just business.

When I returned to work, the atmosphere felt stiff and uncomfortable. It had been a week since the hospital incident, and I had barely spoken to him. He hadn't reached out once. Nothing had changed between us, except maybe the ever-present tension that I couldn't seem to shake.

As I walked into the office, my stomach flipped. I glanced over at his office. He was in there, of course, buried in work, barely glancing up. There was no acknowledgment, no change in his cold demeanor. The professional mask he wore was unshakable.

I  walked back to my desk and sat down, trying to focus on my tasks, but the more I thought about it, the harder it became to keep my mind off him.

I was overreacting. I had known from the start that this marriage was a contract. There was no place for feelings, no room for attachment. And yet, every time I saw him, every time I had to swallow the words I wanted to say, it felt like I was being suffocated.

A text from Sofia broke my thoughts. 

Sofia: How's it going with Mustafa?

I stared at it for a moment, wondering how to respond. I quickly typed back.

Me: Just work. Nothing else.

Sofia: Is that really it? Maybe you should try a little harder, you know. Don't let him think you're just an employee. Show him the real you.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes reading her text.

Me: I'm not here to show him anything. He's not interested.

Sofia: You never know until you try. Maybe he needs to see you're more than just someone in an office chair. Don't let him forget you're a person, too.

I shook my head at my phone. I appreciated Sofia's attempt to push me, but I wasn't sure I was ready for that kind of vulnerability, not with Mr. Mustafa.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. I looked up and saw Mustafa walking toward me, his face as unreadable as ever.

He barely glanced at me, his expression focused. "I need the reports on the latest project," he said, his voice fix. "By tomorrow morning."

I nodded, trying not to show how irritated I felt by his lack of anything resembling warmth. It wasn't just the lack of concern from earlier. It was the way he acted as if I was just another screw in the machine. Just a part of his business.

- Author - 

Mr. Mustafa sat behind his desk, glancing at the clock as the hours ticked away. He hadn't meant to be so distant, but it was easier that way. It's less complicated. He didn't need the added burden of getting involved with Hadia.

She was his employee. His wife, yes, but not really. Their marriage was a business deal, and there was no room for anything else. He had made that clear from the start.

Still, every time he looked over at her desk, something in him tightened. He couldn't help it. She worked hard. Too hard, in fact. He had seen the signs. She was pushing herself to the limit. But there was nothing he could do to stop her. He wasn't her caretaker.

But when she had passed out, something had shifted something inside him had broken through the walls he had carefully constructed. Seeing her lying unconscious in that hospital bed, pale and vulnerable, made something inside him crack open.

He shook his head, pushing the thought away. He wasn't going to entertain it. He had his own problems to deal with.

Still, when she walked into the office earlier, looking so strong, so determined despite everything, he couldn't ignore the way his chest tightened. She had always been resilient, always able to push through anything. But that didn't mean it was healthy.

He couldn't let her burn herself out. It was his job to make sure she didn't, even if she didn't seem to care about that.