In the Heart of Darkness

Chapter 56: Delusion or Real?

The dim light of the early morning cast long shadows across the sterile hospital room. The soft hum of the machines, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the gentle whoosh of the oxygen mask—these were the only sounds in the quiet room.

Ibrahim sat next to Zara's bed, his eyes never leaving her fragile form. She was asleep now, sedated by the doctors to ease her nerves, but her restless body betrayed the torment of her dreams. The dark circles under her eyes, the pale skin, the bruises that marked her delicate face—it was all too much for him to bear. He couldn't stop thinking about her scream from the night before. Mustafa...

Who was this Mustafa? Why did her voice crack with so much agony when she cried his name? Ibrahim's mind swirled with a thousand questions, each one more painful than the last. Was he someone from her past? Or was he someone she had been with over the last twelve months? The thought of another man—someone who might have been with her, someone she may have been longing for—choked him with a suffocating sense of jealousy and dread.

The night had dragged on for hours. Ibrahim hadn't slept a single minute, his body exhausted but his mind relentlessly awake. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Zara's face twisted in pain, her fingers clutching his shirt as she screamed for Mustafa.

His thoughts were becoming suffocating, and his heart was heavy with a constant ache. He had to know. He needed answers.

With a sense of urgency, he stood and walked to the door, glancing back at Zara one last time before stepping into the hallway. He called for the doctor, his tone sharp and commanding.

Within moments, the doctor arrived, looking flustered but trying to maintain a calm composure in the face of Ibrahim's intense gaze. Ibrahim's dark eyes were cold, distant, and yet piercing. The man could feel the weight of Ibrahim's unspoken questions pressing down on him.

"I need answers," Ibrahim said, his voice low, almost menacing. "Is it possible for Zara to have lost her memory?"

The doctor swallowed, clearly nervous under Ibrahim's stare. His fingers twitched at his side under the dominating gaze of Ibrahim. The room felt tense, charged with the intensity of Ibrahim's presence.

"W-well, sir..." the doctor stammered, his throat dry. "It's very unlikely, considering your wife has shown no signs of head trauma, and there are no indications in her medical history that would suggest memory loss."

Ibrahim's gaze remained unyielding as he leaned forward slightly. "So you're telling me it's impossible?" His voice dropped, dripping with an almost dangerous calm.

The doctor faltered, unsure of how to answer, and that hesitation only further fueled Ibrahim's unease. "N-not impossible, sir... But... I can say with confidence that the likelihood is extremely low. Memory loss typically results from head injuries, trauma, or extreme emotional distress, but based on her condition, we can only confirm when she's awake."

Ibrahim nodded slowly, his fingers tightening into fists. He felt a sharp sense of relief wash over him, but it didn't last. So she hadn't lost her memories, then... But what did that mean? Why was she calling out for another man? Was Mustafa someone who had been important to her? Was she still longing for him, even now?

As the doctor left, Ibrahim couldn't shake the feeling gnawing at him. He returned to Zara's side, sitting back down beside her. His hand gently clasped hers, the touch a silent promise. He stared down at her peaceful face, but the question burned inside him. Who was Mustafa, and why did she want him so desperately?

Ibrahim's mind wandered again to the past—the years he had spent with Zara, their marriage that had started out of necessity, not love. He had tried to be everything she needed, tried to protect her, tried to love her in his own way. But now... now looking at her, the guilt crashed over him.