𝔇𝔞𝔴𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔇𝔲𝔰𝔨 (The Legacy Duet - 2)

Sine Mente

𝕭aba didn't wake up that day. Or the next.

I was still in the waiting room with my phone pressed to my ear, alone, well as alone as I could be with ten bodyguards shadowing me and my husband in the front rooms, because I had sent Mama home to grab some things for Baba, and thank God she listened to me when I asked her to do it.

I loved my mother, but she could barely be strong enough for him, she couldn't be strong for herself. Or be counted on to ask hard questions and to chase down nurses and to demand every next step Baba needed.

The waiting, the bleary uncertainty, the hours of nothing-time, all of it just amplified her fear and her agitation, and eventually, she would become a mess and no help to anyone. Nazia had her midterms and she couldn't stay the night at the hospital, she had to ace those exams.

It had to be me.

But God I wished I had someone here right beside me. Someone to hold me. I just wanted one second where I could lie down, close my eyes and not worry about missing the nurse, or the doctor, or forget why I was here. Just one second of blissful serene peace. My eyelids burned for a moment and I hated that, I hated the feeling of powerlessness and guilt and loss, and I fought it back.

"How long will this last doctor?"

"We can't say for sure."

"But there must be some change in his condition? Some improvement?" while I understood his position, I also bit back a surge of my own impatience.

"He's lost a lot of blood Mrs. Mughal. We can't say."

"Is there no way to be certain?" I could not keep the pain out of my voice, even though I was desperate to.

I kept my eyes on the wall, trying to distract my mind from the endless rotation of longing and betrayal. An awareness of my husband, foreboding and familiar, filled me as the doctor invoked his name. I didn't know where he was but knew he was close by. My heart thudded, wondering what purpose brought him close to the room. I could sense sadness and longing, not so very different from the way I could sense him before our argument.

"What do you think Mrs.Mughal?"

All eyes turned in my direction.

I paled, slowly rising to my feet as the doctor nodded his agreement. My heartbeat so loudly I could barely hear anything else. Taimoor's face was unreadable, and the wall I'd built around myself in his absence, in our temporary truce, immediately rose again.

"I don't want to make a decision just yet."

"We'll have to move him, I'm sure he'll be more comfortable in his home?"

"Not yet," Taimoor looked at me helplessly. I knew what he saw. I knew what he was feeling. That he was going through my pain just like it was his own but he would not come near me, respecting my wishes. But my body didn't know that. My body turned to him like it was attuned to do. Like I wanted to. To help soothe the constant storm contained inside this beautiful, vulnerable soul.