Fading Light - mohabbat ki tanhai

Chapter 28

One Week Later,
3rd persons POV:

The house that was once filled with warmth and laughter now felt empty. Hollow. The walls carried a silence so heavy that it pressed against Zayan's chest, suffocating him more with every passing second. 

He sat in his office, staring at nothing. His head throbbed, his eyes burned, and his heart—his heart ached in ways he never thought possible. Adeel and Hamza and everyone  had tried to talk to him, tried to make him eat, but he barely responded, just to his son.
What was the point? His wife—his Anaya—was lying in a hospital bed, lost in a coma. And the worst part? She had left thinking she couldn't trust him. 

"Asma told me..." His voice was hoarse as he spoke to his mother earlier. "Asma said she didn't seem happy when she left. That she hesitated." He let out a bitter laugh. "And still, she went. Still, she walked into a nightmare, without telling me. Without thinking about our son."

His mother had placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Beta, she was scared. She thought she was protecting her mother."

But Zayan couldn't accept that. Did she really think he was so weak? That he wouldn't tear down the whole world for her? 

And then there was Arslan. 

His son cried constantly. He refused to sleep properly, and feeding had become a challenge. Anaya had breastfed him, and now, suddenly, he was forced to adjust to something else. He didn't understand where his mother was. He didn't understand why she hadn't come back. 
Last days, Zayan had spent hours holding Arslan in his arms, walking back and forth in their bedroom, whispering to him. "She'll come back," he had promised. "Your mama will come back to us, little warrior. Just hold on." But the baby only cried harder, his tiny fingers gripping Zayan's shirt as if searching for the warmth he had known all his tiny life. 

Zayan clenched his jaw. He couldn't break. Not when his son needed him. Not when his wife needed him to be strong. 

And as for that man—Anaya's so-called father... Zayan had made sure he would suffer. Life in prison wasn't enough for him. Every day, he would feel the pain he had caused. Every day, he would regret ever touching Anaya and her mother. Zayan had made sure of it. 

But none of that mattered now. Because none of it would bring Anaya back. 

--- 

The room smelled sterile, like disinfectant and medicine. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the silence. 

Zayan sat beside Anaya's bed, his fingers lightly brushing against hers. She looked so small, so fragile. Her long lashes rested against her pale cheeks, and the sight of her hooked up to machines made his chest tighten. 

He had spent every day here. Every single day. Watching. Waiting. Begging. 

"Please, Anaya." He had whispered to her just yesterday. "Come back. Come back to me. Come back to Arslan. We need you."

And today, as he sat there, exhausted, lost in his thoughts, something changed. 

A small movement. 
A faint stir. 
Zayan's head snapped up, his heart stopping for a moment. He stared at her face, waiting, praying. 

And then—her eyelashes fluttered. Her fingers twitched. 

And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity... her eyes opened. 

"Anaya," he choked out, his voice breaking. He didn't care about anything else in that moment. Didn't care about pride, about control, about anything and the anger he felt because she left without saying anything. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around her, holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her.