"Miss Abeerah Khan", Ozhan slung his arm around her shoulder, and started walking again. "Once Yazaan Lala wakes up, i'm not waiting a day before making you mine."

"What a great idea, Lala!", she exclaimed making him halt again.

"O khuda ki bandi! I'm talking about marrying you and you're stuck with brother!"

She burst out laughing on his pained expression and forced him to walk again.

"Sorry, force of habit."

"No! A habit you forced upon yourself", he grumbled. "All these years, you knew and you still insisted on addressing me as Lala."

"I didn't hear you complaining. How much more do we have to walk? My legs hurt."

"No, i guess i didn't really mind you addressing me as such. Not every man you call a brother is actually one. And it weirdly gave me a sense of peace knowing that you trusted me completely to protect you, and that you felt safe with me . . . Five minutes."

She smiled, looking up at him. His head worked in a weird way. No one had any idea what he was thinking unless he voiced out his thoughts. A moment he was all pleasant and in the next, all traces of humor left his face. He was alert and assessing his surroundings which seemed fine to her. She couldn't notice anything unusual except them being there in the middle of the night.

But obviously, his vision and hers were different. He was used to seeing what others missed. The shadows what others thought to be branches, were devils to him.

His body went all taut, and he hugged Abeerah close to her, his hand drawing out a gun from God knows where. Not a second later, about fifteen men, all armed dressed in black, their faces covered, surrounded them, pointing rifles at them.

Her eyes closed on their own as a sudden light from their front pierced them. Someone had turned on the headlights of a black car and in front of it stood a middle aged man she didn't recognize. He was wearing a white shalwar kameez, a black coat on top of it, and black sandals. A white turban wrapped on his head and his salt and pepper mustache curled on the tips.

"Itni jaldi jaa rahe ho tussi, Khan Sahab? Khaatir ka moqa v nai diya", the man said in a cheery voice. But living among her family, she knew the man felt anything but cheerful. She could feel tension radiating from the body of the man beside him. He was worried for her safety mainly, she knew that. And she'd be lying if she said if she wasn't scared as well.

(You're going so soon? You didn't even give us a chance for hospitality.)

"Look, Chaudhary. Yahan main koi masla nai chahta. Humain jaane do yahan se or Khan tumhare ga'on ko is safha-e-hasti se nahi mitayein ge", Ozhan brought his hand from Abeerah's waist to the back of her head and turned her face into his shoulder, not allowing her to see anything and also not letting anyone see her.

(I don't want any trouble. Let us go and Khans won't remove your village from the face of this Earth.)

"Nahi? Aam tor par, mere tajarbe ke mutabiq logon ko mere saath masla hi hota hai jab wo khud yahan aate hain or mjhse mile baghair jaane ki har mumkin koshish karte hain. Tumhare saath aisa nahi hai?"

(No? Usually, according to my experience, people want to have a trouble with me when they come here on their own and especially when they make sure to go away without me noticing. That's not the case with you?)

Ozhan glowered at him with his dark eyes.

"Mere paas tumhari bakwaas sun'ne ka time nai hai, Chaudhary. Humain jaane do or aaj koi khoon nai bahe ga." He looked around him, behind the circle of armed men. His eyes assessing each and every shadow, wanting to reassure himself that Zulfiqar had acted upon his instructions.

(I don't have time for your rubbish. Let us go and no blood will be spilled tonight.)

"Puttar, mera bara dil kar raha hai khoon bahane ka. Or wo bhi tera. Bare arse se tera naam apni golion pr likh kr rakha hai. Or puttar, Khan mjhe safa-e-hasti se kaise mitayein ge? Jahan tak mjhe yaad parta hai, tumhara bhai to bister-e-marg par nai hai?"

(Son, i want to spill some blood. And that too, yours. Your name has been written on my bullets for a long time. And son, Khans would remove me from the face of this earth? As far as i remember, isn't your brother on his deathbed?)

Ozhan's heart skipped a beat in fear. So, Chaudhary's knew about Yazaan.

"Lekin haan. Kya pata uski biwi ne sahi kar diya ho usse. Maine suna hai boht achi doctor hai wo. Bahir se parh kr ayi hai."

(But yes, it is possible his wife had healed him. I've heard she's a great doctor. Studied from abroad.)

Another shock. They knew about Layeba as well. Till this day, they'd made sure no one knew about Yazaan's marriage, so to avoid an incident like before. But he knew. How?

I think i saw Bi Jaan. Abeerah's words came to him.

But she wouldn't go to this extent would she? Maybe Shah Zaman told him.

Whyever not? She's been playing games ever since you've opened your eyes in this world.

Don't make speculations just yet. You don't know anything for certain.

But didn't he?

He looked at the car behind Chaudhary Nawaz-ud-Din. Its headlights were still on but after his eyes got accustomed to the light, he was able to see inside the car. There was a man in the driver's seat and no one in the passenger seat, but in the back seat. His eyes clashed with ones he'd been looking into for his whole life.

His heart filled with hatred so bitter, even he hadn't experienced it before. He hated alot of people in his life. He hated his own grandfather. His own father. But nothing compared to the loathing he felt now. None of them had driven a knife in his back. But Bi Jaan? She had raised them all like pigs for slaughter.

"Khoobsurat larki hai wo." His eyes snapped back at Nawaz as he continued his monologue. "Arre! Bhabhi ki baat kar raha hun tumhari", He said as if actually scared of him. "Tumhari mashooqa tumhein mubarak ho", Nawaz pointed at Abeerah.

(She's a beautiful girl, she is . . . I'm talking about your brother's wife. Not your lover.)

Before she realized what had happened, Ozhan's arm left her and he was standing right in front of Nawaz-ud-Din, choking him. All the rifles clicked, as the men waited for a signal to shoot, but he just increased his grip.

"Mere bhai ya bhabhi ke baare main aik or lafz apni zubaan se nikaala to yaqeen jaano Chaudhary Nawaz-ud-Din! Tumhari palak jhapankne se tum jahannum main jal rahe ho ge." He released him, shoving him a bit. "Anyone who even so much as thinks of hurting my family, he won't live to see another day." His eyes circled again. "And that goes to you as well, my dear grandmother."

(You speak even a word against my brother or his wife, trust me, Chaudhary Nawaz-ud-Din, you'll be burning in the pits of hell before you even blink.)

Abeerah, who was looking at Ozhan in awe and slight fear, she followed his gaze to the car as well. And sure enough, the similar green eyes looked back at her. Her heart broke. She hadn't wanted to believe anything, even if she hadn't known the complete truth. The only woman she'd confided in after her mother's death and even before, the woman who used to bring toys for her and play with her. The woman she used to complain to about her parents when they refused her something. The woman she loved. Her grandmother. She was here, supporting the man who could kill them at any instant.

"Now might be the time for you step out, O dear Bi Jaan. The vision might be obscured for you from there." He'd switched to his mother tongue, Pashto, while speaking to Bi Jaan.

She could feel the intensity of Bi Jaan's glare as she stepped out of the car, her cane hitting the ground first.

Had the temperature dropped by a few degrees?

It surely felt like that as Abeerah shivered, engulfing herself in the warm shawl.

•~•

It was the brightest of days, yet no sun was in sight to dazzle her. The wet grass teased her bare feet but they didn't get dirty. The wind played with her dark hair without messing them up. The air smelled sweet, fragrant with roses and honey, none of which she could see anywhere. The only thing she could hear was the wind. The white long frock she was wearing rustled as she looked around her.

There, in front of her, everything blurred for a moment and the only thing visible was the white tombstone with her father's name written on it. A smile graced her lips and everything became clear again. The numerous white tombstones lay before her, welcoming her.

She was in the martyrs' cemetery and even though graveyards reek of pain and anguish and death, this one only enveloped her in tranquility.

This is a dream, isn't it?

It had to be. She had numerous reasons to know that, but still she recited Al-Fatiha and prayed for all the martyrs in her heart.

A childish giggle reached her ears and she searched for the source, way too curiously, for she recognized it. Skipping between the tombstones, a girl of around twelve, wearing a blue jeans and red kurta came running towards her. She frowned, still smiling.

This was definitely a dream.

She remembered the girl, the features of whom still remained in her own face, though matured over the years. As the little version of her drew closer, she realized the girl wasn't running towards her but to something behind her.

"Baba!", She heard and instantly turned around, wanting to see the glimpse of her father alive, even if it was a dream. She was no longer in the cemetery but in the warm confines of her own home, looking at entrance where her father stood with a baby in his arms. The biggest smile she'd ever seen him in adorned his face.

"Baba, have you brought my brother?"

He smiled down at the girl and handed her the little bundle he held wordlessly. Her face lit up brighter than the brightest of the stars. They both went into her father's study. Her father sat in the same chair she used to sit in and cry for hours. Her little version laid baby Arsalan on the leather couch.

"You're a big sister now. You have to take care of him. Always." Her father said the words she remembered all too well.

"I will, Baba. I promise."

They all looked as Arsalan rolled over to his side. The little Layeba stopped him from falling, as Layeba's heart came in her throat.

"Look! I saved him! He didn't fall, Baba!" The little girl exclaimed.

"Yes, you did!" Her father picked her up and kissed her cheek. But then, they heard the cries of a baby. Arsalan was on the floor and instead of picking him up, her father consoled the girl in his arms whose eyes were filled with tears.

"Baba", she hiccuped. "B-baba, i tried. I tried to s-save him b-but. . ."

"Shhhh, you did great." They looked at the baby crying on the floor and when his father looked back, it was her he was looking at. There were no more younger selves of her and her brother.

Wiping her tears with the pads of his thumb, her father kissed her forehead. "You did everything you could. He ruined himself. It's not on you. None of this this is." He gestured around them. From the window, she could see the milk-white gravestones. Peering from behind one of them was Meerab, smiling wide and waving at her. Layeba smiled through her sniffing.

Everything was quiet again. There was no Meerab in the distance. They were in the cemetery again, the confines of her home no longer around her. Except this time, the wind chimed with the steady beeping of a machine she was familiar with all too well.

Her father looked to her left and she followed suit. "This wasn't your fault either."

Fresh tears fell on her cheeks again on seeing her husband through the glass window, laying lifeless in the ICU. She took a few steps forward, placing her fingertips on the glass.

"But what if it was?" She rounded abruptly, to see both her parents with intertwined fingers, looking at her patiently. "What if it was really my fault? Words have the power to heal, but they also have the power to destroy. That's what you always taught me. My words were what drew him away that night. I pushed him to his doom."

"But it was the doom he'd chosen for himself a long time ago, nonetheless. And you know that. You couldn't save Arsalan because he didn't want to be saved. Your husband? His brother? They want to be saved. And therefore, you'll find a way to protect them" her father said.

"I know you will. Because i raised my daughter not to be a damsel in distress but a protector. She'll go out of her to protect the righteous. No matter how weak or strong the one in need of protection was", Shiza placed a hand on her cheek.

She glanced back at Yazaan. "But what if he doesn't pull through this one? I don't want him to die, Ammi. I want him to live. And live free. I want him to have a normal life. With me." Her big doe eyes filled with moisture and her bottom lip puckered, she looked like a small child telling her parents that she'd lost her favourite toy.

"He will pull through. He will survive this
And when he does, you can give him that normal life."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Cause you are an excellent surgeon and we believe in you. And because i have faith in my Rabb." Her father kissed her forehead again.

She leapt on her father, hugging him tight. "I love you. And i miss you so much."

"I love you too. And i'm always by your side." He broke the hug. "Now go."

He gave a slight push towards the ICU door. She placed her hand on the door handle, a hopeful smile gracing her lips. She looked back, her parents gave her an encouraging smile.

She turned the handle and pushed open the door. . .

And woke up.

•~•

A single knock on the door and she woke up, raising her head from her elbows and straightened her hijab. She had dozed off in her chair, working over some files.

"Come in", she called.

Farhan entered her office, his breath heavy as if he'd ran here. "You weren't responding to our calls."

She checked her phone and sure enough, there were several missed calls in just two minutes. She must have slept through them. "Now that you are here, come to the point."

"Professor. He's awake."

•~•

"When did he wake up?"

She entered the ICU and her gaze immediately went to him. Sure enough, he was awake. He was still in the same position as before, but his eyes were open and they lit up as soon as he saw her. She couldn't be more relieved or happier. At least she didn't think she could be. She just wanted to sit by his side, take his hand in hers and keep looking at the green orbs she'd been longing to see. But there were a few things that needed to be done before that, so she schooled any personal feelings that may be displayed in her expression and went to work.

"Six minutes ago", a nurse replied.

She noticed his vitals on the machine. Everything was normal. She neared him and asked him to follow the light she waved in front of his eyes.

"Perfect. Can you hear me, Mr Khan?"

"H-ello . . . doctor", his voice was weak, a bit scratchy, but it was definitely his. And right now, for Layeba, it was better than anything she'd heard. She allowed herself a small smile.

"Can you move your fingers for me?"

She stared intently at his hands. And after a split second, he moved his all ten digits effort slightly visible on his face.

"That'll do." Next, she placed her thumbs in both his hands. "Can you squeeze them?" She felt equal weak force from both his hands. Her smile grew. "Excellent." She removed the cover from his feet and hesitated before asking, "can you wiggle your toes?"

She waited patiently. Ten seconds, twenty. But no movement. She swallowed. This was what was the major risk in this surgery. He could've been paralysed from neck down. He could've been paralysed from abdomen down. It was unpredictable. She tapped his leg with a knee hammer. "Can you feel that?"

He shook his head, a broken look on his face but there was also acceptance of his own consequences.

She tapped another spot and asked again. Nothing. She took a pen from her coat's pocket and rubbed it on the pad of his foot. There were proper instruments present for those but she couldn't be much bothered.

"You don't feel that?"

"No."

She didn't give up. She rubbed it again and almost cried in relief when his toe twitched slightly.

She swallowed and put her forehead on the bed and took deep breaths. Then, she straightened, took his right hand which had a pulse oximeter clipped on his forefinger and without caring that there was a nurse in the room, kissed the back of it.

Everything was going to be alright. He was fine. They'll figure out the rest.

•~•

Assalam o alaikum guys!

How are y'all?

How was the chapter?

He woke up!!!!! And fully functional!!!!🥳🥳🥳 Honestly, i know nothing about any pre-op, post-op stuff, so bear with whatever i've written.

What do you think is gonna happen to Ozhan? Or rather, what will Ozhan do to Bi Jaan? Make guesses.

A short update, yes. But i couldn't get myself to write more. The last days have been hard for anyone with a heart and personally it's all i can think about. The situation in Palestine is heartbreaking and there's nothing we can do but raise awareness and pray for them. May Allah give them all Sabr and ease their pains and destroy the Zionists and Israel. Also, may Allah give all the Muslim leaders hidayat that they actually get off their asses and do something for Palestine together.

Please pray for them as much as you can.

That's all. Do vote⭐ comment 🖋️ share and follow. And also, point out my mistakes if any.

Thank you.

Stay safe.
Lots of love❤️❤️❤️
Javeria.