Twice in a Lifetime (Zayn Malik)

Chapter 93. Gone.

Chapter 93.

Song

Little house - Amanda seyfried

Mia's POV

"Are you alright," someone who I assumed was Zayn asked as their hands held onto the sides of my arms. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said in a small voice, my eyes staying glued to the floor. "I'm fine, thank you."

Regaining my stance, I leaned one side onto the wall, hoping to relieve some of the exhaustion that suddenly hit me. When I looked up, instead of seeing Zayn's face, I found someone else, an elder man, who looked very much like Zayn, only his skin was tanner, and the wrinkles on his face were more prominent.

"She's asleep," the man told me, his tired eyes traveling to the sleeping girl on the bed.

"Dad," Zayn appeared at my side. "This is Mia. Mia, this is my dad, Yaser."

"I know," Zayn's dad smiled at me, so warmly just like his wife. "Waliyha's showed me pictures. She's much prettier in person.."

The image of Waliyha showing her dad pictures of his daughter in law flashed through my head, my cheeks growing a slight burning from embarrassment.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Malik," I told him, being polite as I possibly could.

"Pleasure's all mine. I really wish we had met under different circumstances."

Unfortunately. "Me too."

My eyes traveled back to his daughter, who was asleep, then over to the small couch next to the wall where his distraught wife was sitting, her lips barely in a smile to greet me. She must be absolutely torn about her daughter's state. I settled into the uncomfortable chair next to the side of the hospital bed, holding back the tears that were beginning to brim. She looked so pale, so withered, so fragile.

I can't cry. I shouldn't cry. I need to be strong. For Waliyha. For her family.

"How's her condition?" I asked, hoping someone in the room would answer me when there was no immediate reply.

"The doctors say her health is declining rapidly at an abnormal pace," Mr. Malik spoke first. "Yesterday was the worst but today was a little better. No vomiting."

Oh god. Wali.

Please, if there is a god somewhere, please, help Waliyha get through this. She is so loved, so beautiful inside and out. She doesn't deserve to die yet.

"What time is the surgery planned for tomorrow?" I turned to look at Zayn's father, who was now standing by his wife, his large hand on her shoulder, comforting her while their son stood at the foot of the bed, his gaze downward.

"Noon," he answered. I nodded, giving him a small smile.

"Wali will be okay," I said. "She's a fighter. She won't give up so easily."

My words seemed to have a positive impact when both of Zayn's parents look at each other before looking over at me. Warm grins formed on their lips, and I smiled back, this sudden gleam of hope replacing the stiff air that was around just a few seconds ago.

For the next thirty minutes, we discussed about the weather, current events, my job, Zayn's job. I was most uncomfortable when the spotlight was on me but Zayn's parents didn't seem to take notice, their son on the other hand saw right through me. I was fiddling my fingers.

We avoided the topic of why we gathered - Waliyha. My curiosity was dying to know how Wali came to be like this but I didn't want to be rude and ask never-ending questions about the details.