"Now, can you please tell us why he lost his memory?" Naaz questioned the doctor with a determined expression, her arms firmly crossed over her chest.

She was sitting next to Rizwan on the small single bed, which had only a single pillow. This extra bed was for a relative to stay with the patient at night for their assistance. Mom and Rizwan had already decided that Rizwan would stay with me at night until I recovered and got discharged.

I had eleven stitches on the back of my head and some minor scratches on my back, shoulder, and arms. The doctor informed us that the scratches would heal quickly, but the head stitches would take a few days or maybe a week to heal. Until then, I had to stay in the hospital.

About fifteen minutes ago, I received the biggest shock of my life—aside from learning that Naaz was my girlfriend.  still couldn't believe she was my girlfriend. I was still wondering how I had managed to pull off that stunt. Where did I find the courage o express my feelings to her? I'll have to ask her in private when no one else is around, particularly my little brother Rizwan.

Rizwan is such an ass, my God. The doctor informed us that they had shaved my head to perform the operation. I nearly had a heart attack upon hearing this. I love my hair, and these cruel people just shaved it off. Rizwan laughed so hard at the thought of me being bald; I was furious with him.

I swear, I felt like throwing him out the window of my room. My room is on the third floor, so he might break some bones if I throw him out the window. I would be at peace then.

But Naaz, my sweet girlfriend, was ready to kill that little maniac for making fun of me, knowing full well that I must be mourning the loss of my beautiful hair. I think I might just cry right now. But at the moment, we had more important questions to be answered.

"Yes, please," I said. I, too, was eager to uncover the reason behind my memory loss, so I paused mid-bite of the unappetizing hospital-provided soup. If I had to describe this soup in one word, it would be disgusting.

I longed to savor the homemade dishes prepared by Naaz's mother Sifat Aunty, who is an exceptional cook. I enjoy everything she cooks, whether it's a simple meal of rice, vegetables, or dal. This is what Naaz, Rizwan, and Mom ate.

"Well," the doctor started, capturing our undivided attention, "the operation was successful. However, he suffered a head injury and significant blood loss."

Interrupting him, Rizwan exclaimed, "Doctor, we are aware of that already. Tell us something we don't know. Should we consider an MRI to check for any brain damage that may be causing this?"

It was quite a bold move for a first-year medical student to suggest an approach to a well-established doctor. I was both proud and slightly bemused by his audacity to imply potential damage to my brain. I found myself in a state of confusion. Should I slap him or pat his back, feeling proud?

Why am I suddenly so aggressive?

Anyway, the doctor appeared impressed by my brother. "If necessary, we will consider it, young man. However, after conversing with your brother and all of you, I am confident that the situation is not as severe. It's possible that he experienced a distressing or traumatic event during that period that he wishes to block from memory."

As the doctor concluded, I caught Naaz's gaze, with a sense of sorrow evident on her face and guilt lingering in her eyes. I struggled to comprehend why this had transpired. Why had I forgotten that Naaz was my girlfriend? It was supposed to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Then why? The burden of guilt on her face left me with an unsettling feeling, as if she held herself responsible for my current condition. But, I don't think she was at fault.

The police officer came to take my testimony of the accident, but since I had forgotten everything, he didn't push me to remember it, as putting pressure on my brain would be harmful. Anyway, he informed us what exactly happened to me.

I was driving my car at an average speed, careful enough to notice that a baby girl suddenly came in front of my car, running. To save the girl, I took a sharp turn to the left and my car hit a big mango tree. Since my car's speed was high at that time, the front window broke and the engine bonnet was destroyed. I fell out of the driver's seat door and landed on the road, directly hitting my head.

The first question I asked the police officer was about the baby girl—whether she was safe. The look Naaz gave me at that moment was one of disbelief. Like, "Are you serious?"; while Rizwan had a proud smile, as if saying, "That's my big brother bitches, take it."

Astagfirullah.

That "B" word wasn't mine but his. He uses that word way too much, like Naaz uses the word "F." I don't understand their obsession with these words.

"Doctor, are you trying to blame me?" Naaz asked, hurt evident in both her tone and her face.

What could she have done that caused so much anguish that I chose to erase the memory of our relationship? I was genuinely perplexed. Should I confront her about it? But would she reveal what I've forgotten? I doubted it. Perhaps it would be best to let go of the past, move forward, and create new memories.

"Miss—"

I interrupted the doctor. "Naaz, don't talk nonsense, alright? I am sure it must be something else. So don't blame yourself for something you haven't done." I told her harshly.

"It's a fact," she tried to argue, but I cut her off again.

"Keep the past in the past, Naaz. From now on, we should focus on the future only," I said firmly.

She tried to argue again, but the doctor interrupted her this time. "Mr. Khan is right. You both should forget the bitter past and focus on the future and make sweet memories together."

"Heard him?" I taunted.

"Okay, fine." I could tell she was still blaming herself for everything. I wanted to argue with her more, but I wasn't comfortable doing it in front of the doctor and Rizwan, so I stopped.

"Is there a chance that he will regain his lost memory?" Rizwan inquired, his distress palpable.

"It could be a case of short-term memory loss. Nothing to be overly concerned about. So, yes, he will get his memory back, only if he wants to," the doctor reassured him.

"So, there's nothing to worry about?" Rizwan cautiously sought confirmation.

"As far as I can discern, no. However, if it gives you peace of mind, you could opt for an MRI," the doctor teased him.

"No, we have faith in your expertise," Rizwan responded, slightly bashful.

"Mr. Khan, make sure to eat your meals properly and take your medicine on time. You'll be alright then," the doctor advised before leaving.

"Naaz, you should go home," I told her. Just by looking at her, I could tell she hadn't gone home, changed her clothes, taken a bath, eaten, or slept since my accident. She needed rest. I couldn’t stand to see her so devastated and tired.

"I don't want to leave you," she immediately shook her head, denying my request.

*Stubborn girl.*

"Naaz, don't act like a brat. Listen to me. Go home, take a bath, eat, and sleep. You need rest. Do you understand me? I am fine," I explained.

"I can see that," she remarked sarcastically, pointing to my bandaged head.

"Come here," I said, patting the empty spot beside me. She nodded before getting up from the bed and coming over.

"Guys, I’m still here," Rizwan teased, as if we were about to get romantic in front of him.

Naaz glared at Rizwan, pointing a finger. "How about you fuck off from here?" she said angrily.

"Naaz, language!" I scolded. I couldn’t understand why she used that word so casually.

"Old Siddique is back," she commented.

"I was always like this," I replied.

"He was always like this," Rizwan said simultaneously.

She looked at Rizwan first, then at me, her cheeks warming up for a moment as she thought about something, and then she nodded.

"I guess so." Hurt was evident in her tone. I didn’t know what was hurting her. Anyway, she came to me and sat in the empty spot beside me.

"Naaz—" I began.

She interrupted me, "I am not going, and that's final."

"Naaz, don't be stubborn. You need rest. You haven’t slept. Please go home." This time, I requested her gently.

"But, Siddique—"

"Naaz, he’s right. You should go home," Rizwan said, supporting me. She looked at him with betrayal in her eyes. "What?" he asked.

"Did you forget about our deal?" she asked, and Rizwan looked unfazed.

"What deal?" I asked.

"Nothing," Rizwan said immediately.

"You," she threatened. "I am going to tell your brother about it."

"Tell him. It's not me." He looked unbothered.

"Not that, dumbo. It’s what you said after that," she smirked evilly.

"Be my guest. I’m sure he won’t have a problem if I do," Rizwan said confidently.

"I doubt it," she scoffed. "He will kill you for thinking like that," she smirked.

Rizwan looked momentarily scared, then an evil smile crossed his face, revealing he had something against her as well. "If you tell him that, then I’ll tell him about your secret."

Naaz looked at him in disbelief. "You wouldn’t dare."

I couldn't understand their conversation, but it was clear they both knew something that could provoke my anger. They were using these secrets to threaten each other. Kids.

"Someone please tell me what’s going on here? Rizwan, tell me!" I demanded.

"Brother, Naaz—" Rizwan began, but she cut him off.

"He already knows what you're about to tell him," she insisted, clearly truthful.

"I doubt he remembers that," Rizwan smirked.

"Keep the past in the past," she huffed in irritation.

"Then go home," I told her.

"No," she denied.

"Okay, fine." She relaxed at my words and passed me a cute smile, but her smile dropped when I said, "Rizwan, say what you wanted to tell me."

"Sure, brother," he said excitedly, eyeing Naaz with a teasing smile. "So, at Naaz's coaching center, there's a guy named—"

"Shut up! I'm going," she finally agreed, and Rizwan and I shared a smile. "Don't you dare tell him, or else you're done for good," she warned Rizwan before leaving the room.

There was silence between us for a moment, then I looked at him. "I am not telling you," he declared before I could ask about the coaching center guy.

"Who was it?" I asked anyway.

"I told you, I am not telling you. Anyway, you already know about that. It was you who told me," he denied again.

"As you said, it was me who told you; then be a good little brother and tell me the name of the guy who was after her," I asked again.

"Does it matter? She already rejected him, and she is with you," he denied again.

"Fine," I agreed with his point. "Was he more handsome than me?"

"Brother," he was so done with me.

"Fine." I grumbled.

"Finish your soup, then sleep. You must be tired," I nodded. "I'll go get some coffee for myself," Rizwan informed me before leaving.

I quickly finished eating my soup and then lay down on the bed to rest. I didn't know when sleep took over me, but after some time, in my half-asleep state, I felt someone enter my room. There were heavy steps. I could tell it was a man by the strong manly perfume he had used.

The person silently sat on the chair beside my bed and held my hand lightly. He didn't say a word, just stayed beside me in silence. I assumed it must be Rizwan, back with his coffee, so I didn't bother to check and let him stay by my side as I slept.

I woke up in the evening with the sound of my mother scolding Rizwan for some reason. Looking around the room, I saw my mother and Rizwan were sitting on the single bed. Mom had an angry expression on her face, while Rizwan was looking down at his feet, appearing guilty.

"What kind of behavior was that, Rizwan?" Mom scolded, arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm sorry, but I was tired. Okay? Now drop it," he begged in irritation.

"If you were tired, then you should've..."

I interrupted her. "What's going on here?" I asked gently.

My mother turned to me with a soft gaze, got up from the bed, and rushed to me. She cupped my face with a small smile, and I leaned into her touch. "How are you feeling, Siddique?"

"I'm feeling good, Mom." I replied, then I looked at Rizwan. "Why was Mom scolding you?" He looked guilty at my question.

It was Mom who answered, "When I came here to see you with his dinner, I saw no one was here with you. You were alone, sleeping. I went outside to check on him."

"So?"

"So? Your brother was sleeping in the cafeteria like a dead fishand  for the last four hours. His coffee was served, but it was untouched. So, he fell asleep waiting for his coffee," Mom finished, shaking her head in disappointment looking at him.

"I was tired," he argued in defense.

"Then you should've slept in the room on the couch with your brother, not at the cafeteria. Idiot." Mom scolded him again.

"Mom, stop it," I said.

"But—"

"Please, my head is hurting with your high tone," I lied to dismiss the matter. But deep down, I wondered who had visited me when I was half-asleep. If it wasn't Rizwan, then who was it?

"Sorry, take rest."

That evening, after having dinner with my family, I took my medicine and fell asleep. Rizwan stayed with me for the night as planned, while my mother left with Uncle Kabir, Naaz's father, who had come to see me before heading home after work. Though I missed Naaz, I knew she needed rest too. Yet, my mind kept drifting to the mysterious person who had visited me secretly. It was evident they didn’t want anyone, not even me, to know about their visit.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Naaz chattering and giggling with Rizwan about something funny that had happened at his medical college. Seeing her happy and laughing filled me with warmth. She looked stunning in a pastel green salwar kameez, my favorite color. The soft hue complemented her fresh, energetic appearance, and her long, dark hair flowed freely, framing her face perfectly. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and her smile was radiant.

"You're looking beautiful, Naaz," I commented, drawing their attention.

She blushed and replied, "Thank you."

"I can't see this. Get a room, guys," Rizwan said dramatically.

"Shut up!" I scolded him.

"How about you get out of here so we can have some privacy?" Naaz said boldly, leaving us both in shock.

"Oh. My. God! My virgin ears!" Rizwan's dramatic remark almost made me laugh, but I controlled myself.

"Look who's talking, the person who lost his eyes' virginity," Naaz laughed.

"What?" I asked, looking shocked at Rizwan. "You watched someone romancing?"

Rizwan looked at me in horror, and Naaz stopped laughing, realizing what she had just said.

"Naaz?" I prompted.

"I was joking," she said immediately, but I knew better; she was lying because Rizwan was giving her a death glare.

"You?" I asked Rizwan, urging him to speak up.

"It was Shafiq," Rizwan said.

"What?" I was confused.

"Rizwan!" Naaz chided him, making me realize what he was referring to.

"Oh!" Shafiq from her coaching center was the guy who had been after her or had proposed to her.

"Siddique," Naaz tried to explain, but I cut her off.

"It's okay, Naaz. That was in the past. At present, you are my girlfriend," I said, smiling, which made her relax.

"Are you sure?" she asked to confirm if I was hurt.

"Absolutely," I nodded, smiling genuinely. Then I looked at my brother. "Now you tell me, what have you done?"

Rizwan started sweating in fear. "Umm—" he stammered, looking around before running out of the room to save himself.

Naaz and I exchanged amused glances. It was good to see her happy and to share this moment, even amid the chaos.

"Come here and hug me." I demanded, opening my arms for her. She didn't take long to get up from the bed and rushed to me, hugging me tightly.

"I missed you," she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion.

At that moment, amid all the chaos, pain, and the mystery of the unknown visitor, I felt a profound sense of peace. Naaz's presence was a balm to my soul, her embrace of a sanctuary from all the turmoil. Everything else faded away—the worry about my injuries, the memory loss, the scolding from my mother, and even the playful banter with Rizwan.

It was just Naaz and me, wrapped in each other's arms, and that was all I needed. Her warmth, her scent, the steady beat of her heart against mine grounded me, reminding me of what truly mattered. My love for her was unwavering, and her love for me was evident in every touch and glance.

With Naaz in my arms, I was at peace. My heart was full, my mind at rest, and I felt a deep sense of contentment. No matter what challenges lay ahead, I knew we would overcome them together. And that thought, above all, brought a smile to my face as I held the woman I loved, my Naaz.

"I missed you more," I replied, holding her even tighter.

••

Any guesses who was that mystery person? ;)

Thank you ❤️