Take off your Hijab (Rewriting)

SO where are my kids?✅

"Grief doesn't roar; it seeps in, silent and suffocating, just as Amal awoke to the hum of hospital monitors and Zach's muted presence by her side."

Third person's POV.

Amal wasn't sure how long the silence stretched. The soft hum of the hospital monitor punctuated the stillness, but Zach said nothing. He simply sat there, his eyes shadowed and distant, his fingers idly tracing the edge of her blanket as if grounding himself in her presence.

Her chest tightened. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Her husband wasn't the kind to linger in silence like this, his energy too restless, his words too quick to tumble out. But now, he looked... muted. Sad, even.

"Zach," she whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. "What's wrong?"

His head lifted sharply, startled, as if she'd caught him in the middle of an unspoken thought. For a moment, he didn't answer, and the weight of his gaze made her heart race. He smiled faintly-a hollow, fractured thing-and shook his head.

"You're awake," he said, his voice trembling with something she couldn't quite name. Relief? Fear? Guilt? He repeated himself, softer this time. "You're awake. Thank God."

The words sounded like a mantra, as if saying them enough times might make everything better. But they didn't comfort her. Not the way they should have.

She frowned, leaning forward despite the pull of soreness in her chest. "Zach, stop that. What's wrong? Tell me."

Before he could answer-or evade her again-the door creaked open.

The sound was almost imperceptible at first, but then came the rush of footsteps, quick and purposeful, followed by a flood of voices.

One by one, they poured into the room. Her mother, her sister, Zach's grandma, both of his sisters and friends she hadn't even known were nearby.

Amal's mother, Safia, was the first to reach her, wrapping her in an embrace so tight that it felt like the air had been squeezed out of Amal's chest. The scent of Azad's perfume, the warmth of her body, it was all so familiar-yet the force of her hug left Amal feeling like she was being smothered, as though the entire world was pressed into her fragile body all at once. "Amal!" Safia's voice cracked with the rawness of a mother's desperation, her tears falling freely onto Amal's shoulder. "You're really here... Oh, God, you're really here!"

Amal winced from the pressure, her bruised body protesting the closeness, but she forced a smile, trying to keep her composure. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here, Mom," she gasped, attempting to make light of the situation, "Can't breathe though."

Her mother pulled back immediately, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, sorry!" she stammered, but the relief in her eyes remained.

Before Amal could fully process the first hug, another set of arms enveloped her. This time, it was Zach's grandmother, who clung to her as if Amal had been lost to her for decades. "Thank God you're still here, sweetheart," she whispered through tears, her arms trembling around Amal's shoulders. Her voice was thick with the kind of love that only time could cultivate, each word punctuated by the weight of years spent waiting for this moment. Amal felt her body being enveloped in a warmth that went deeper than the skin-it was the kind of hug that made her feel like she belonged, like she was seen, even though she was still so disoriented from everything.