The fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway hummed softly above, their glow casting long shadows across the pale linoleum floor. The air was thick with the sterile scent of antiseptic, tinged faintly with fear.
Faqair stood still, trembling. His eyes shimmered, unspilled tears catching the harsh white light. His fingers twitched at his sides, as though still holding onto a moment he couldn't bear to release.
Meher turned sharply, her voice cutting through the silence.
"He did something wrong, Mr. Zayn!"
Zayn's gaze, calm but weighted with quiet authority, settled on Faqair. His tone was steady, but each word carried the weight of restrained anger.
"Faqair… what did you do?"
Faqair swallowed, the words catching in his throat before tumbling out, fractured.
"I… I took Inaya outside. Her health was bad, but still—"
Meher interrupted sharply.
"See, Mr. Zayn?"
Before Zayn could reply, the door at the end of the corridor opened. The doctor stepped out, exhaustion etched across his features, a faint trace of disinfectant following him.
They all moved toward him instinctively.
Meher: "Doctor, how is she? Is she okay?"
The doctor let out a breath, the tension in his face easing slightly.
"She's stable now, but not fully conscious."
For a moment, the hallway seemed to exhale with him. The tight air loosened, but only slightly.
Meher's shoulders dropped in silent relief. Beside her, Faqair's lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came.His guilt and worry seemed to swallow the words before they reached his tongue.
Meher cast him a final glare—sharp, cold—then turned and disappeared into Inaya's room.
Faqair remained rooted to the spot, staring at the floor, his shirt clinging to him in places where the blood had dried, dark and stiff.
Zayn's voice broke the silence, low but firm.
"Look at you—this shirt is covered in blood. What happened?"
Faqair looked up, startled. His voice cracked.
"How did you know I'm here?"
Zayn crossed his arms, his gaze steady.
"You weren't answering your phone. Grandpa's been trying to reach you too. I tracked your location when you went silent. Now tell me—what happened?"
Faqair's throat tightened. His breath trembled as he spoke.
"I… I was parking the car. I found Inaya there, so I brought her here. I'm sorry, Zayn. I didn't know what else to do."
Zayn's expression softened slightly, but he didn't respond. The silence between them carried more understanding than words ever could.
***
Inside the Room
The room was dim, illuminated only by the muted glow of the machines. The faint rhythm of the heart monitor pulsed steadily, a fragile reminder that life still lingered there.
Meher sat beside Inaya's bed, her hand resting gently on Inaya's forehead. She didn't speak—she didn't need to. Her quiet presence was enough.
After a few still moments, Inaya's eyelids fluttered. Slowly, her gaze found Meher's face, and her lips quivered into a weak, broken smile.Meher (softly): "Are you… okay?"
Inaya's eyes glistened. Her voice came out cracked, barely a whisper.
"Oh… Meher…"
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, tracing faint lines across her pale skin.
Meher's chest tightened. She leaned forward, worry etched deep in her expression.
"What happened? Why are you crying? Did Faqair… do something wrong?"
Inaya shook her head weakly.
"No… it's not that. I… I saw something I wasn't supposed to see."
Meher frowned, confusion shadowing her features.
"What do you mean? What did you see, Inaya?"
For a moment, Inaya hesitated. Her eyes wandered to the ceiling, as if the memory itself was too heavy to meet head-on. Then, in a trembling voice, she began to recount what she had witnessed—the scene that had shaken her, the truth she'd stumbled upon, and the part Faqair had played in it.
When she finished, silence swallowed the room whole. Meher's heart pounded as she processed every word.
"So… you forced him?" she asked quietly. "He was following your command then?"
Inaya blinked slowly, her breath hitching.
"No… he actually helped me. But I forced him into it."
Meher's posture softened. Relief flickered through her expression, though her thoughts still raced in a thousand directions.
"Oh…" she breathed, barely audible.
Inaya turned her head slightly, her voice trembling with quiet hope.
"Where is he now?"
Meher: "He's… outside."
Inaya's lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
"Can you… call him in?"Meher hesitated only a moment before nodding. She stood, her heart heavy with guilt. When she stepped into the hallway, the cold air met her like a quiet reckoning.
She stopped before Faqair, lowering her gaze. Her voice was low, genuine.
"I… I'm sorry, Faqair."
Faqair blinked, surprised.
"For what?"
Meher's tone softened further.
"For misunderstanding you. For slapping you. I shouldn't have done that."
Faqair's expression melted, the sharp lines of exhaustion easing.
"It's okay," he said simply. "How is she?"
Meher noticed the concern in his eyes and offered a small, sincere smile.
"She's calling for you."
Without hesitation, Faqair nodded and walked past her into the room. The door clicked softly behind him.
Zayn stepped up beside Meher, his presence commanding without effort. His voice came deep, firm, unyielding.
"Next time, think before you act. Not every situation has someone like Faqair to clean up your mess."
Meher turned toward him, arching a brow, her tone cool and composed.
"I said sorry, Zayn. What more do you want?"
Zayn's lips twitched into a wry smirk.
"Ah, so now you're perfect just because you said sorry?"
Meher shot back instantly, her voice edged with confidence.
"Better than pretending to be perfect—like some people I know."
Zayn chuckled under his breath, eyes glinting.
"Hmm. Maybe. But saying sorry doesn't fix everything, Meher. Actions speak louder than words."
Her smirk didn't falter.
"Good thing my actions aren't your business, then."Zayn leaned slightly closer, his tone smooth but charged.
"Maybe not… but it doesn't mean I won't notice."
Their gazes locked for a heartbeat—silent defiance meeting quiet amusement. The air between them felt alive, electric.
Inside the room, Faqair's quiet voice mingled with the steady rhythm of the heart monitor.
Outside, the tension between Meher and Zayn hung heavy in the air—unspoken, unresolved, inevitable.
And somewhere between guilt and forgiveness, something fragile began to change.