They both were pestilence and pernicious messes together. Both broken and shattered inside, yet needed one another for survival.
She never ever thought, that he would be her happiness after a tragedy. Yet, he became.
He wanted her more than his brea...
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Bash Bang!
The loud explosions, in Kunduz, Northern Afghanistan were very very frightening and intimidating. Yaqoot in her lounge, was walking from left to right, in panic. With each passing minute, the gunshots were filling the silence of the whole city. She was gulping and breathing heavily due to the loud sounds. “Where are you Hannan?” she was repeatedly asking herself the same question. The door screeched opened and she ran towards the door, watching if it's Hannan.
“Where were you? Why are you late? I was waiting for you, and then...” she started crying. He was looking at her silently. Not answering her questions.
“Let's go to the lounge. It's not safe here,” he grabbed her wrist and went inside. He was looking at her in pure love and affection. She stopped crying and asked “How's Grandma?”
“Mannan is with her and she's fine.She told me to be with you, because the Taliban have attacked again and you will be in terror.” He softly told her and his gaze was focused on her. The way tears were present in her beautiful light brown eyes, were like dewdrops on petals. Before he could say something to her, his phone rang. He checked the screen and it was Mannan. He put the phone on speaker and Mannan spoke in panic, “Hannan Grandma is asking to meet Yaqoot. She's holding her last breaths. Come here fast with Yaqoot, and, she asked...” he didn't finish his words and the phone was hung-up.
“What does Mannan mean by that Hannan?” she asked another question but the boy facing her, was not answering her questions. Instead, he said in a broken voice “Let's go and look at the house for the last time, because I don't know what's waiting for us.” He went to his small car and she was behind him.
They entered the hospital, panic and dread was all over the hospital. She saw many dead and many injured. People were yelling and helping the doctors and nurses. Ambulances were coming and leaving together. “It was again suicide bombing,” she heard people voices. The gunshots were still painting the dark sky with its horrifying sounds. Hannan led her to the ICU, where their Grandma was fighting for her life, but she had already surrendered to death.
“Rohael,” the two boys and one girl in the room, heard this name once again. This word was what they were hearing for a week now. “It's Yaqoot Grandma,” the girl murmured to her dying Grandma.
The old lady chuckled and spoke “I know you're my princess, but you look like Rohael. I wish, I could see her one time,” one tear made its way on the wrinkled skin. The old lady sighed and soon, her chest was rising and falling. The old lady gestured to her grandkids, to come closer. When the three were close enough to hear her last words, she mumbled in a whisper but the deep silence in the room was enough for them to hear her words.
“Flee this place and live your lives, the way you want to. My princes take good care of her. Hannan I'm sorry that I didn't get the chance to witness your wedding with your love, Yaqoot. I'm sorry my children. Mannan don't break your promise and protect her with your life!” with this she gave her last breath. Yaqoot was sobbing and Mannan; her breast milk brother, hugged her and the silence of the room was changed into crying.
