Minha's Shahmeer

CHAPTER 55

Shabbir Ali Khan
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I drove the car into the parking area of the hospital and finally stepped out, feeling the cool wind brush agaisnt my skin.

It was around six in the morning, I guessed, as a smile unconsciously spread across my face with the refreshing morning air enveloping me.

The moon had retreated behind the soft hues of dawn, giving way to a new day.

As I played with the key in my hand, I made my way toward the entrance of the hospital; the distinct smell of antiseptics and medicines instantly filled my nostrils, enveloping me in an all-too-familiar atmosphere.

A brief glance around revealed a young boy, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties, asleep at the reception with his head resting heavily on the table. Shaking my head slightly at his predicament, I ascended the stairs slowly. The sterile walls of this hospital and that unmistakable scent caused me to take deep breath in an effort to quell my escalating anxiety.

Ahmad was being treated in this very hospital, which held bittersweet memories for me---memories that were tinged with profound sorrow from when I lost my mother here.

She had spent countless agonizing days fighting for her life within these walls, tethered to a ventilator as she battled relentlessly agaisnt death itself.

After a long month of hope mixed with despair, she ultimately succumbed to her faith; she left this world behind and left me starkly alone.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I stood before Ahmad's room and gripped it's doorknob tightly before twisting it open gently.

The door creaked open, revealing a scene that stirred a smirk to form on my lips.

There, admist a swirl of emotion, stood Shahmeer Mirza's sister, tears streaming down her face as she embraced Ahmad, who looked remarkably peaceful in her arms.

The moment felt charged with an odd intensity, prompting me to immediately pull my phone from my pocket and capture the moment. As the shutter click echoed softly in the room, their embrace broke; they turned to face me.

The expression on girls face was one of bewilderment as her eyes darted toward the phone I held aloft.

"Assalamualaikum", I greeted them, taking slow strides into the room as if savoring every moment of this unexpected encounter.

An undeniable thrill coursed through me at this unfolding drama--this was going to be captivating.

I couldn't help but wonder how Shahmeer Mirza would respond to this situation; his sister, No, No, his baby sister is embracing a man who is  a decade older than her.

"What are you doing here?", Ahmad asked protectively as he pulled the girl closer into his embrace.

"I'm here to check on you", I replied with exaggerated candor, placing a hand dramatically over my heart as if genuinely wounded by his action. "But you're being mean. I'm hurt".

"Stop the drama and delete that picture, Shabbir", Ahmad commanded firmly. His tone shifted my expression instantly---coldness replaced any semblance of levity as I fixed him with a hard stare.

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Ahmad. Know your limits", I warned sharply while purposely snapping another photo of them together.

After taking the photo, I carefully tucked my phone into my pocket, my eyes fixed on the terrified girl before me. She was not just beautiful, but pretty, very fucking pretty.

Her long hair was tied up in a ponytail, her chubby cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, her lips plump and inviting. But it was her big caramel brown eyes that truly captivated me, filled with fear yet holding a certain innocence that I found irrestible.

As I gazed at her, unable to look away, she seemed to resemble a cute baby, rubbing her nose with one hand while clutching onto Ahmad's shirt with the other.

In that moment, I couldn't help but feel a sense of possessiveness over her, a desire that overwhelmed any thoughts of Minha or Samra. 

Her beauty was like a delicate flower, innocent and pure, yet my thoughts were consumed by a twisted obsession, a dark desire that clouded my mind. And in that moment, all I could think was, "I want this pretty girl".

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