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*

Hania

I stared down at the test, feeling my eyes fill up. It was a negative. I don't know why I was feeling so disappointed anyway. Both Hamza and I were happy with waiting for at least another year or two for a baby, and the best part was that there was no pressure from our families. It just that when I'd felt nauseous yesterday, a little bubble of excitement had started building up inside me. 

I shook my head, blinking away the tears. No, we are not in a rush. I should not be disappointed. It's okay. When it's meant to happen, it will happen, In Sha Allah.

"I'm not going to be disappointed." I looked up at my reflection in the mirror. "Disappointment may possibly open up a path to ungratefulness, and I don't want to be that person."

I had a job interview today, as a receptionist at a five star hotel, the Rose Luxe. It was only after I'd accepted the interview that I'd realised that the hotel belonged to Faiz Bhai's family, because Hamza brought it up in a conversation. I'd made Hamza promise not to talk to Faiz Bhai about it because I wanted to feel like if I got the job, it should be on my own basis and not because Faiz Bhai had helped me out.

Hamza was fighting to keep his father's business running smoothly, after the great deal of damage caused. It had turned out that it hadn't been Suhaila Aunty who was plotting against him, but an employee of his own company. And because that person was from within the company, they were capable of causing a much greater damage. It was only when Hamza had hired an expert to look into everything going on in the company, that this was discovered. The employee had been fired and there were multiple charges against him, including a breach of his contractual terms for acting in a way that caused defamation to the company.

Meanwhile, Hamza was getting very concerned about Uncle and, frankly, so was I. All the incidents had taken a toll on his health, and he seemed to be losing weight and getting weaker rapidly. Hamza had to practically drag him to the GP because he wanted tests done to make sure that there was nothing to be concerned about. Uncle was such a good person, with a such a kind heart, plus he had a great sense of humour and was always making me and Hamza laugh- and sometimes stress out.

Like one day, he stood up and announced. "I have a doctor's appointment."

"What? Why? How did I not know about this?!" Hamza had immediately gotten worried.

Uncle had laughed. "Relax. Fawad and I will just be watching a Pakistan cricket match live in a local Pakistani community centre. Did you know they have a large screen set up there during the world cup, the world T20 or during any major game for Pakistan?" 

"Ya Allah! Why didn't you just say that directly?" Hamza had shook his head.

"I would have missed that look on both of your faces then." Uncle had laughed again, heading out.

I smiled now as I thought about that conversation. First and foremost, I was glad that Papa and Uncle got along so well, with little to no in-laws formality. Second, I had noticed how relieved Uncle was to have Hamza supporting him. He was much more carefree now that Hamza had stepped up and taken over his responsibilities.

I unlocked my car with the key fob, admiring my beautiful black car. Hamza had gifted this to me, saying that I would need it to get to work, when I'd initially told him about my plans for a new job. I had told him that I enjoyed the public transport, and he let it go until one particularly rainy day when I had returned home from an interview looking like a drowned rat. And now, I loved the car so much that I was always looking for an excuse to drive.

Suddenly, I noticed the blue flashing lights of a police car, following me. Are you kidding me? What did I do? I always drive below the speed limit.

I pulled up to the side, as did the police car behind me. Ya Allah. I rolled down the window as the policeman approached my side of the car.

"May I see you licence, Miss?"

I looked up, and because I'm a red blooded female, I couldn't help thinking how handsome he was. Of course that meant that I got a little flustered. "W-Why?"

"You just drove the wrong way on a one-way road." He informed me. "Licence?"

"O-One way? I know this area, and there was no one way here..." I stopped talking as I remembered the signs recently placed in the area informing everyone that the road nearby would soon become a one-way access. "Oh God..." I reached into my purse and pulled out my driving licence, and handed it to him.

"Miss...Hamza." He looked up at me. "You have responsibilities towards other road users while driving, ranging from other vehicles to pedestrians. You need to be careful."

I nodded as if I was paying attention, where my mind was going crazy on the inside. 'Miss Hamza? I'm his wife, not his daughter! Allah! Open your mouth and tell him that it's 'Mrs' and not 'Miss'.

"I'm going to let you off with a warning." He gave me a small smile. "Just be aware of the changes to the roads around you. You might be familiar with the area, but this is why it's necessary to pay attention to the road signs."

"I'm sorry." I whispered, finally finding my voice.

"Drive safely, okay?" Nodding his head at me, he walked back to his car.

"Alhumdulillah." I was relieved to have avoided a fine or points on my licence.

I mentally apologised to Allah for thinking of him as handsome, and then started up my car and drove off.

****

"He let you off?" Hamza asked me that night, looking incredulous.

"Police can let go with a caution." I shrugged, sitting at the foot of the bed. I was about to go and make some tea, and I had just told him about the incident. "It was a genuine mistake."

"A genuine mistake that could have been fatal!" He argued. "If a pedestrian was crossing the road, without looking in that direction because they would think that it was a one way..."

"I know!" I was getting irritated by him. Why was he acting like I did this intentionally? "It slipped my mind that the road had been changed to a one-way."

"I wouldn't have gotten away with it." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Are you saying that I got away with it because I'm a female?!" I asked. "That's an unfair accusation. These guys are trained to recognise the difference between reckless drivers and people who'd made a genuine mistake." 

"Not because you're a female, but because you're a gorgeous female."

"Do you want to get divorced even before we celebrate our first wedding anniversary?" I grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him. "Although your jealousy is irritating me, it's also cute."

"I'm not jealous. I'm just saying that a beautiful girl impacted his decision."

"Do not test my patience, Hamza Daniyal." I got up.

"Why don't you just admit that you're beautiful and cute?"

"I'm just annoyed that you're assuming that my looks got me out of a situation!" I snapped. "I know you're jealous, but you have no right to say that!"

"Hania, why are you offended? I'm complimenting you." 

"There's a thin line where a compliment becomes offensive, Hamza." I frowned. "He was just being nice."

He scoffed, but he didn't say anything.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" My irritation was evolving into anger.

"Babe, the day we met?" He asked. "If it was anyone else who had come into my way the way you did, I would have been my rude, pr**ky self and started yelling. It was those wide innocent eyes, and that gorgeous face that caused me to start flirting instead. Sure, it was just harmless flirting then, a one-time thing, but I was influenced by your beauty."

"Well, go to sleep with that 'beautiful' image of me in your mind, because in reality, we're not sharing a bedroom tonight." I huffed and headed out of the room. 

The problem was that I believed in the core goodness in people. For me, the policeman had acted out of the goodness of his heart. But Hamza was a guy, and he would definitely know how a male mind works, so if he was saying that, could it be right?

No, shut up, Hania. Hamza's jealousy is making him unreasonable.

****

"I hate it when you're mad at me."

I was just mixing sugar in my tea, when I'd felt his hands on my waist and his warm breath against my neck.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." He sighed. "I just hated that idea of a policeman flirting with you. Don't girls like a man in uniform?"

"So, you are jealous?" I turned to face him, smiling lightly.

"Maybe I am." He admitted. "Maybe I am possessive, especially because you're so damn beautiful, Hania." 

"Well, you need to believe that people can do good things out of the goodness of the heart. Not everything is about flirting." I frowned as something dawned on me. "By the way, how many times have you done something nice for a girl just because she's good looking?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Can we forget about this topic and discreetly move on?"

"Why? Just because you're uncomfortable, we should stop?" I rolled my eyes. "You hypocrite." 

Hamza's possessive side had started to come out more lately, and each time we went out together, he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer, as if making it obvious to everyone that I was his.

He held me in his arms and I struggled to free myself, lightly and playfully pounding my fists against his chest, but he wouldn't let me go. "So, what do you want for your birthday, Mrs Hamza?" 

"Hamza! Are you forgetting that your father lives here as well, and that he could walk in at any minute?"

"He's probably asleep already. He's an early sleeper."

We headed upstairs to our room, with me holding my cup of tea. He didn't want any, otherwise I would have made one for him as well regardless of my 'anger'. A little 'nakhra' with your husband is essential, but that doesn't mean that I'm too selfish to not offer him something that I was having.

*'Nakhra': showing attitude in a playful way.

We were quietly arguing light-heartedly, when we heard a thump coming from Uncle's room.

"Papa?" Hamza frowned, knocking on his father's bedroom door. "Are you okay?"

There was no reply and we exchanged a worried look.

"Papa?" He opened the door and entered the dark room, while I waited outside, politely. He turned on the light and then I heard him yell out, "Hania! Call 999! There's something wrong with Papa!"

I peeked into the room and saw my father-in-law on the floor, unconscious, one corner of his mouth sinking downwards, in what I recognised as a sign of a stroke. "Allah!" 

****

"He's suffered from a stroke." The doctor confirmed grimly, before he began to explain what it was. 

A stroke is a life-threatening medical condition caused by the blood supply to a part of the brain being cut off. The doctor explained that the type of stroke that Uncle had suffered from was an ischaemic one, where the blood supply is cut off due to a blood clot. He would be given medication to dissolve and prevent blood clots, but his life would never be the same again. His speech might be permanently impacted, and he would have difficulty with movement of his body, like keeping his balance and even walking.

*I have researched this information from the NHS website, as well as experiences that I have faced with my own grandfather. I'm not a medical expert, so excuse any lack of accuracy, but I've tried to write this as realistically as possible.

Hamza looked grim. "Will he ever be able to move around physically the way he used to?" 

"Completely like that, from my medical experience, no." The doctor shook his head. "However, each case is different, so I wouldn't completely disregard that possibility." He glanced at his pager. "I'm afraid I have to attend to another patient, but please don't hesitate to contact me if you have any further questions, okay?"

"Thank you, doctor." I said when Hamza didn't reply. My husband looked lost in thoughts. As the doctor walked away, I put a hand on his arm. "He'll be fine, In Sha Allah. But we need to be strong for his sake during his recovery period."

My parents arrived then, along with Iman. After the greetings, Papa looked at me and Hamza in turn. "Did you speak to the doctor yet? What did they tell you?" 

Hamza took a deep breath and repeated what the doctor had just told us.

"Don't lose hope, Hamza." Papa reassured him. "I'm not saying that he'll be exactly how he used to be, but with good treatment and care, he'll make a good recovery, In Sha Allah. I've seen it happen with stroke patients. It'll take time and a lot of patience, but it is possible to make a good recovery." 

"I don't even know what to do." Hamza looked confused. "Who do I contact? The council? Social care? The hospital? How do I arrange care for him? And I want the best care for him, right at home."

"The doctor will give you all the relevant information, but I'll also guide you through it." Papa put a hand on his shoulder. "He would really need you to be strong right now though, Hamza. He's already been through a lot, but seeing you panic will just stress him further."

"And we'll help you out as much as we can." Mama added. "Whatever you need, just let us know, okay?"

"Thank you, guys." Hamza looked genuinely grateful. "I'm almost thirty, but I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing at times." 

"It's okay. You'll learn as you go along." Papa smiled weakly. "As your responsibilities increase, you'll gradually learn how to manage them as well. In the meantime, we're here to help you and guide you."

I looked at Hamza, my heart hurting for him. No matter how much we playfully fought or got angry at each other, I couldn't bear his pain. I prayed to Allah to give him strength, and to help Uncle make the best possible recovery.

We'll get through this together, Hamza. I'm with you, and I plan to stand with you through thick and thick, and through the easy times and the difficulties.

Adulthood was not easy. First our parents look after us, and now it was time for us to take care of our parents. May Allah give us strength to fulfil our responsibilities properly. 

****

Iman

I was just exiting the hospital, when I saw the board that listed the names of the doctors around the different wards. Papa's name was there, and I closed my eyes, pressing my finger against his name. I imagined my own name written somewhere underneath his.

Dr Iman Fawad.

In Sha Allah.

I continued making my way out of the hospital, scrolling through the messages on the cousins' group chat. My Mamus and their families had just returned home, and everyone was talking about what a wonderful mini-holiday they'd had.

<Ibrahim: Saman is wishing Hania and Ismael a very happy birthday, guys!>

My heart sank. As far as I knew, he was seeing Saman without the knowledge of his father. We cousins knew, but bound by Cousin Loyalty, we didn't tell Arhaan Mamu or any other adults.

I was so focused on my phone when someone slammed into me as they ran towards the hospital building. I stumbled backward with a scream, falling onto the hard concrete, and the other person also lost their balance, falling down on their hands beside me.

"Crap! I'm so sorry." A deep male voice said. "I was getting late and..." 

I turned my head to glare at that person, even as my entire body seemed to ache with falling onto my back. I opened my mouth to swear at him, but no words came out. He seemed like a desi guy, with messy dark hair and dark eyes that were hidden behind not-nerdy glasses. He was clean shaven and really good looking. But good looking didn't mean that he can run into random girls like that. "You need your eyesight checked again, dude?"

Okay, that was a little mean. Remember, you're trying to be good.

He got up and held out a hand to help me up, but I got up myself, groaning a little. "Sorry." He cleared his throat. "I'm just late for an interview with, hopefully and potentially, my future boss. I'm really sorry." He wore a university lanyard around his neck.

"Medical student?" I asked, curiously.

He nodded. "Yeah, is it obvious by my hassled appearance?"

"Well, more the fact that you're meeting your future boss in the hospital. And unless you're being awfully nice and coming to check on them while they're a patient, I'm guessing that you're a medical student."

"Well observed." He looked impressed.

"Well, I forgive your rush, as a fellow medical student." I shrugged. "But you might want to go in and meet the boss."

He nodded at me and then rushed away, but not before I noticed the cardiology textbook in his hand. Maybe one day I'll work along with him? Who knows?

As I turned to go, my foot bumped against something and I glanced down and saw his wallet. Reaching down, I picked it up, glancing over my shoulder. He wasn't anywhere in sight. I opened the wallet and saw his driver's licence.

Taif Bhukari.

"Well, future Dr Taif Bukhari. I guess I better find you and return this to you." I muttered. Ugh, why am I given more work when all I want is a shower and my bed?!

I trudged back into my hospital and immediately spotted Taif at the reception, looking frustrated.

"What do you mean that he had emergency surgery?! He cancelled yesterday as well, when it was my original interview!" He was asking. "I ran to and from each of the underground stations, and nobody could have texted me?!" He slumped against the counter. 

"I mean, he's a surgeon and all doctors face emergencies all the time." The receptionist was speaking with a my level sarcasm. "I'm sure that as a medical student, you realise that."

 "Ya Allah!" Taif turned away, now facing me directly. His eyes met mine and he looked momentarily surprised.

"Your wallet." I held it out to him.

"Oh! Thanks!" He took it gratefully and pocketed it.

"Your boss stood you up to go and perform surgery?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I chose such a career. It's my own fault." He smiled weakly.

I pointed towards his textbook. "Cardiology?"

"You know something?" He said. "The brain may be the boss, but the heart is much more interesting, in my personal opinion of course."

"Yeah, I have sort of grown up while learning about the heart." I smiled. "That will be my field as well, In Sha Allah."

"Muslim?"

I nodded. "Alhumdulillah." I rubbed at my sore elbows, and the way the shirt was sticking to it, it was obvious that I was bleeding.

"You okay?" He looked concerned. "Damn, chivalry is really dead. I should have made sure that you were okay."

"It's just a scratch. I'll fix it when I get home."

"Future doctor and saying that?" He grinned. "Come on, let's get someone to check you out." 

I sighed and followed him. He was right. I didn't want to be infected.

He spoke to a nurse, and I was led inside to a room to get the wounds cleaned up, because going into the Accident & Emergency Department would be wasting their time for such trivial reasons. 

"So, you want to be a cardiothoracic surgeon?" I asked, curiously, judging by one of the books I'd spotted in his arms. 

"Yeah, surgery has always been my target, I guess." He said, standing beside me as a nurse cleaned up my wounds. "In fact, I was meeting a cardiothoracic surgeon here, but he got called in for surgery."

Oh boy. He couldn't be talking about...?

"Dr Fawad Ali? Future boss. I've heard great things about him, but apparently he can't even tell medical students that he'll have to cancel a meeting because of surgery." Taif chuckled sarcastically.

Excuse the hell out of you?! How dare you talk about my father like that? 

I decided to play along, just for the fun of it. I wanted to see his reaction when he eventually figured out that I was Iman Fawad, as in the daughter of the surgeon that he was b****ing about. "I mean, surgeons have to literally rush out sometimes, with no time to even blink, let alone messaging students, who should technically be a little more understanding."

"Look, our lecturers even joke about it." He sighed. "Doctors, and especially surgeons, don't give a s**t about wasting the time of medical students. It's funny because they used to be students themselves once upon a time."

"You need better lecturers." The nurse interfered, clearly unhappy about this. "If they have no respect for the profession, they need another subject to teach."

"I'm sorry. I honestly didn't mean to offend anyone." He raised up his hands. "I'm just saying what I think."

Ya Allah! Is this how people around me feel when I talk without a filter?

"Well, maybe you should think before you speak the next time." I stood up, before turning to the nurse. "Thank you." I turned and walked out.

"Wait!" He chased after me. "Did I offend you in any way?" 

Well, you only dissed my father and his profession. "Me? Why? It's not like I'm related to a doctor that you're insulting."

"I have a tendency to talk without thinking." He looked sheepish. "My jokes tend to be inappropriate, and I'm a disaster with people. I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

Well, if I didn't excuse him for putting his foot in his mouth, then I was a hypocrite. "As a medical student you should know better."

"I know. I meant no disrespect to Dr Fawad." 

You better not or I'll rip your chest open and teach you cardiology by using your own heart as an example. Too violent? I don't give a crap. Nobody disses my family, especially not my parents, even if this was about Papa's career.

I glanced away, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Taif Bukhari." He introduced himself officially.

"Iman." I said.

He looked curious, possibly about my full name, but I wasn't going to give him a full name until I was sure that he wasn't just another jerk like the guys I have come across. Although, his behaviour came across as startling similar to my own.

Ya Allah! I'm a brat.

****

Fawad

"Assalam Alaikum." Mina immediately said as she came out into the foyer after I'd just returned home.

"Walaikum Assalam." I paused, taking a deep breath. Since everyone had gone back home, the house has been deadly quiet. 

"How was the emergency surgery?" Mina asked, leaning against the wall watching me as I took my shoes off and placed them in the shoe rack.

I froze, keeping my gaze on the ground. How did I tell her that the emergency surgery for Jeremy Newton, the man who had almost successfully destroyed mine and Mina's future together? He had collapsed this morning and had been brought in, and I hadn't thought twice about it. I couldn't ignore my duty simply because it was Jeremy who was suffering. At the end of the day, he was a human, and saving a human life was not just my duty, but also a very rewarding deed.

"Look, jaan, even if he or she didn't survive..."

"It was Jeremy Newton." I spoke quietly, without looking at him. "I performed surgery on Jeremy Newton, and although the surgery was successful, his heart is in a very frail state and I don't think he has much time, unless Allah wishes otherwise." 

"You performed surgery on Jeremy?" She repeated, speaking just as quietly as me. 

"I should have told you yesterday, Mina, when he first came into my office..." I finally looked up at her. "It's just that seeing him brought back so many things..." 

She walked over to me, her head tilting back slightly as she stared up at me. "It's too late for me to reconsider my decision about who I'm meant to marry." Her tone was light and almost amused.

"I know, Mina, but I'm surprised how tempting it was for me to f**k up the surgery." I muttered. "I kept thinking about that SOB walking in our mehendi night and confessing his love for you."

"But you didn't mess up the surgery,  and that is one of the reasons why I'm so crazy about you. You are an incredible person, jaan, Ma Sha Allah, and you'll never let your personal feelings come in the way of your duty. I still remember when Sadia Bhabi pushed a toddler Hani intentionally, you still didn't hesitate in helping Ismael when he got hurt." 

"I'm going to go and shower." I backed away from her and headed up the stairs, wearily. 

****

"Ever since I let Jasmina go, my life has gone downhill. I 've regretted hurting her on a daily basis." Jeremy's words rang through my head repeatedly. 

In the shower, I ran my hands through my hair, closing my eyes. I'd experienced a side of me that I'd never seen before. I'd felt brief, but real hatred for the man who I'd been responsible for performing surgery on. The way he had expressed his feelings for Jasmina had caused chaos within our families. My parents had been stressed out and humiliated. Things got strained between our families. 

But the thing that made me hate him the most was the fact that he had treated Jasmina like a mistress that he should be embarrassed about, choosing wealthy over her. He had made her promises and then completely broken and crushed them when his parents threatened to disown him. She had risked her reputation, her everything to try and figure out her feelings for him, and he had treated her like she was a worthless doll.

But Allah had blessed with a wonderful career, and as a doctor, a surgeon, I couldn't discriminate whose life I should attempt to safe and whose wasn't worthy enough. That was not my call. I had to do my duty with the belief that all lives mattered equally. It wasn't my duty to decide who was a sinner and who wasn't. 

As I came out of the bathroom, dressed in casual home wear, my phone buzzed, indicating an email. I glanced at it and saw that it was regarding that medical student kid that I was meant to interview. Apparently, the student wanted to know when to reschedule. 

The door opened after I sent a reply, and Mina walked in, carrying a tray of food. Roti with a delicious smelling chicken curry. 

"Are you mad at me?" She asked, setting the tray down onto the coffee table on the other side of the room.

"Why would I be at you?"

She shrugged.

"Sorry, Mina, I'm still just shocked at his reappearance I guess." I sighed.

"Are you feeling threatened?" She wasn't mocking me. In fact she actually looked concerned.

"Threatened? About what?" I raised an eyebrow.

She glanced down at the ground, looking almost ashamed.

"Twenty-three years, two daughters and a lot of drama later, if I'm still insecure, then you probably should divorce me." I placed my hands on her shoulders. "Yeh baat to teh hai, Mina Jaan, keh aapka dil us waqt bhi meri amaanat tha aur aaj bhi mere liye hi dhadakta hai. Farak bas yeh hai ke us waqt aap bekhabar theen is baat se."

*"It's guaranteed, Mina Jaan, that your heart belonged to me even then, and even today beats for me. The only difference was that you were unaware of this at that time." 

My phone started ringing and I glanced down at it. I could see Hamza's name appear on the screen. "Hamza?" I grabbed my phone from the bed and answered it. 

"A-Assalam Alaikum, Uncle!" He sounded like he was under great distress.

"Walaikum Assalam. Is everything okay?" I immediately set aside my own issue, and my mind automatically turned to Hania, maybe a bit selfishly. I couldn't help worrying about her.

"U-Uncle." His voice was shaking. "Something's wrong with Papa. He's not responding..." 

****

For the sake of the kids, Fawad will set aside his own personal issues regarding this Jeremy matter. But would Jeremy Newton's return cause a storm in their lives?

Would Hamza's father be okay?

Iman and Taif have met, but on the first meeting he unwittingly offended her by saying things against her father. :D

Thoughts and comments?

Thank you for reading and don't forget to vote.