Later that afternoon, Dr. Zafar approached them with a lighter expression than the one he'd worn all morning.
“We’ve moved Maira to a private ward,” he informed both Hadi and Rubina. “She’s out of danger now, but weak. We need to keep her away from any form of stress. That includes too many visitors, too many questions… and too many answers.”
Rubina let out a relieved breath, hands folded in gratitude. “Shukar hai Allah ka” she whispered.
(Thank you Oh Allah)
Hadi gave a small nod, but his thoughts were elsewhere, still replaying the words from earlier that Dr. Zafar had shared in confidence. He hadn’t told Rubina. It didn’t feel right to. Not yet.
“I need to speak to you about her treatment going forward,” Dr. Zafar added, gesturing toward the corridor.
As Hadi followed, Rubina made her way to the new ward. The room was quiet, lit only by the late afternoon sun spilling across the floor.
Maira sat on the bed, upright yet hunched, as if holding her body together with sheer will. Her eyes stared blankly out the window, haunted, unsure, as if pieces of herself were still missing.
Rubina approached quietly, brushing a soft hand through her tangled hair. Maira blinked, slowly turning her head. Her voice cracked, dry and frail.
“Aap… aap kaun hain?”
(Who.. Who are you?)
Rubina smiled gently, settling on the chair beside her. “Rubina. Rubina Alvi. We happened to cross paths when you were rolled in here two days ago”
Maira tried to nod, but her face contorted for a moment, the effort too much.
“Kya hua tha?” she whispered.
(What had happened?)
Rubina’s smile faded. The question sat heavy in the air between them. Her fingers clenched in her lap. She wanted to answer, but something held her back. Maybe it was the image of Maira on the operating table. Maybe it was the warning in Dr. Zafar’s eyes.
She shook her head gently. “Abhi nahi,… abhi mat socho. Sirf araam karo.”
(Not now... Dont think much, just rest)
---
In the corridor, Hadi walked alongside Dr. Zafar, whose voice had returned to its usual clipped, serious tone.
“She can't travel right now, Hadi. Not for at least a month, her body needs time, and frankly, she’s too fragile for any movement beyond basic care.”
Hadi exhaled, his fingers flexing. He knew what this meant, he would have to stay. Juggle more lies. Delay more truths.
Dr. Zafar’s voice lowered.
“And I must remind you… this was an accident case. Severe. The weather, the circumstances… we couldn’t involve the police. But if they had come into the picture, Hadi, you’d be in deep trouble.”
Hadi stiffened.
“I didn’t inform them, there were no witnesses and I believe you. Because if you hadn’t made that call, marrying her, she might not have made it. But the hospital administration will ask. I won’t lie, but I’ll protect what matters. I’m doing that only because I know this wasn’t convenience… it was desperation.”
He placed a firm hand on Hadi’s arm.
“So I’m asking you for something now. Whatever you decide about this marriage… don’t let it affect her. Not emotionally. You owe her that much.”
Hadi’s heart sank under the weight of those words. Another layer to the web he was tangled in.
Before he could speak, Rubina returned.
“She wants to know,” she said, voice unsure. “About what happened.”
Dr. Zafar’s eyes turned to Hadi, then back to Rubina.
“We can’t keep her in the dark forever,” he said, “but not today. Let her stabilize. If tomorrow goes well, I’ll discharge her. Then… maybe Hadi, you should be the one to tell her.”
The three stood silently, the burden of knowing anchoring them all in place.
Zafar excused himself and walked away down the hall.
Rubina turned to leave, saying, “I’ll get food.”
And Hadi… he remained there, staring at the closed door behind which Maira lay, awake, yet still so far from the truth.
He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes clouded, his breath shallow.
He had fought to keep her alive.
Now, he had to learn how to live with her truth.
---
Two days passed in a blur.
Maira's recovery, though slow, had begun to take shape. Her body remained fragile, but the strength in her eyes was returning, like the first traces of dawn after a stormy night.
She had tried walking on her own the first time, her knees trembling beneath her. She had barely made it to the edge of the bed before the nurse caught her. A flush of frustration crossed her face, but Rubina had simply smiled and said, “Har naya kadam waqt leta hai.”
(Every new step takes time)
And so, with gentle persistence, she tried again. With the nurses guiding her, with Rubina offering steady encouragement, she began to string together brief steps. Each one slow, cautious… but hers.
All the while, Hadi kept his distance.
He would stand at her door sometimes, watching from just beyond the frame. Guilt gnawed at him, his silence, his secret, the weight of what he knew pressing down heavier than before. He couldn’t face her. Not yet.
Maira, sharp as ever beneath the fog, noticed his absence.
She had asked Rubina more than once, “Aakhir hua kya tha? Mujhe kyun kuch yaad nahi hai?” yes she remembers bits and pieces but that wasn't enough, she needed to know the whole truth.
(What had happened? Why dont I remember anything?)
Each time, Rubina had sighed, brushing her fingers through Maira’s hair or handing her warm soup to distract her.
“Abhi nahi, Maira. Jab waqt sahi hoga, tumhe sab bataayenge."
(Not now Maira. When the time is right, we will tell you everything)
And Maira would nod, even though her eyes filled with unanswered questions.
---
Meanwhile, Hadi was juggling two worlds. He had gone out apartment-hunting, wanting to keep Maira somewhere quiet, safe, and removed. Somewhere she could heal… away from reminders.
During one such visit, he answered a video call from Lubna. Her face lit up when he appeared on screen.
“I thought you'd be back by now,” she teased.
“Things stretched a bit longer,” he replied flatly. “Client meetings in Banglore…”
Then little Zohan popped up on the screen, chubby hands waving, a gummy, toothless grin lighting up his face.
Hadi’s breath caught.
He forced a smile, nodded at his boy, and muttered, “Papa misses you.”
His throat clenched. The screen blurred slightly, no, his vision did. He made a quick excuse, something about poor network, and cut the call before the tears could spill.
---
On the third morning, Dr. Zafar stood with them in the discharge lounge, going over the final set of instructions with clinical precision.
“She’ll need weekly follow-ups for now,” he said, pointing to the medication chart. “No heavy activity. Diet has to be managed. And above all, no stress. If she starts to remember… don’t rush her. Let it come gently.”
Rubina listened carefully, asking questions, clarifying schedules. Hadi stood a few steps away, arms folded, nodding along silently.
Zafar’s gaze softened as he turned to Hadi. “You’ve done more than what most would. Thank you for holding it together.”
Hadi lowered his eyes. “It’s not over yet.”
He turned to Rubina, offering her a sincere look. “Thank you. For everything. Especially for staying on… after all this.”
Rubina smiled faintly. “Kisi ko toh rehna tha.”
(Someone had to stay)
---
Maira emerged from her room soon after, her steps slow but determined, dressed in the soft pink dress Rubina had chosen. The color made her look almost ethereal, the illness still clinging to her features, but there was hope in her expression, hope of going home, wherever that now was.
The walk to the hospital exit felt like crossing a desert. Her breath quickened, knees buckled.
Before she could fall and hurt herself, she was lifted.
Her breath hitched.
Hadi had stepped forward, wordless, and scooped her into his arms.
The world tilted.
It was the first time he’d touched her, truly touched her and her mind couldn’t process it all at once. Her eyes locked onto his face, his jaw tight, a muscle ticking. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding wildly in her ears.
A strange warmth bloomed in her chest. Unfamiliar. Overwhelming. Tears welled up in her eyes, not from pain… but something else.
He carried her gently, as if afraid she’d break.
When he settled her into the backseat of the car, Rubina slid in beside her, organizing the medical file and placing the medicine bag in her lap.
Maira sat, still reeling, still watching him.
Hadi stepped into the driver’s seat, not once turning back. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his eyes locked on the road ahead.
Rubina hummed softly to herself, unaware of the emotional storm sitting just inches away.
And Maira…
She kept glancing at the mirror, at the man who had saved her, married her… and yet barely looked at her.
The silence between them wasn’t empty.
It was brimming with everything left unsaid.
---
The car slowed as it turned into the gates of a high-rise society. Tall palms lined the driveway, and the security guard gave a respectful nod as they passed. The building loomed above, sleek glass, clean lines, balconies wrapped with plants. The area whispered wealth and silence.
Maira stared out of the window, her brows furrowed in wonder. Am I going to live here? She hadn’t expected this. Not this… luxury.
The car halted beneath a shaded portico.
Before she could fully process the elegance of the surroundings, her door clicked open.
Hadi stood there, avoiding her eyes as usual.
She glanced at him, then at the building, unsure of what to say.
“I’ll carry you,” he said simply.
She hesitated.
But her legs still felt like air. Nodding slowly, she reached out, and he lifted her gently, her breath catching once more.
Rubina followed them inside, quiet and observant. The elevator ride was silent. It glided up to the 16th floor, where the doors opened to a small, exclusive landing. A single door marked the only apartment on the floor.
Hadi unlocked it and pushed it open.
The apartment was modern, tasteful, but warm, like someone had tried to make it look like home on short notice. Cream walls, soft lighting, and minimalist furniture. The living room opened into a spacious kitchen on the left, while a small hallway to the right led to the bedrooms. Large windows covered with sheer curtains filtered in pale afternoon light. The subtle scent of lavender hung in the air, likely from a diffuser someone had just placed.
Maira scanned the space silently. It didn’t feel like hers. It didn’t feel like anything familiar. But it was clean. Safe. Quiet.
He carried her to the master bedroom, king-sized bed dressed in pastel linens, a tall window, and a small lounge chair tucked near a bookshelf.
He placed her gently on the bed, adjusting a pillow behind her back.
Before she could speak, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, jaw tightening again.
“I’ll be back,” he said, stepping out without looking back.
---
Rubina walked in right after, carrying the hospital bag and medical file. She placed them on the bedside table, opening drawers, neatly arranging Maira’s medicines, then helping her freshen up with a damp towel.
“This is your new house, Hadi has arranged it for you” she said softly, brushing Maira’s hair gently. “You will be staying here, until you get better.”
Maira gave a faint nod, too drained to question further.
Rubina stood, picking up her purse. “Main bahar jaa rahi hoon. Kuch kapde lene hain tumhare liye. Thodi grocery bhi. Tum bas rest karo.”
(I'm going out to buy some clothes and grocery, you should rest.)
“Akeli jaa rahi ho?” Maira asked, voice barely above a whisper.
(Are you going alone?)
Rubina smiled. “Haan. Don't worry, Hadi is at home he will take care of you, I'll come back soon.”
She said, then turned toward the door.
---
Hadi had just finished his call, standing near the balcony, looking out over the skyline, his expression unreadable.
Rubina reached him. “Main nikal rahi hoon. I will buy Grocery and a few essentials,” she said.
(I'm leaving)
He nodded, then pulled out his wallet and handed her his card.
“Use this,” he said.
Rubina shook her head. “Nahi, zarurat nahi....”
(No it's not needed)
“I insist,” he said, eyes steady for once. “She’s… my responsibility.”
Rubina looked at him for a long second, then took the card, quietly impressed by the rare emotion in his voice.
As she turned to leave, she paused. “Hadi…”
He looked up.
“I think it’s time. You need to talk to her. She’s waiting for the truth, even if she doesn’t say it.”
He didn’t reply. Just gave a small nod.
And then she was gone.
The apartment fell quiet again.
Hadi stood still, hands in his pockets, staring at the door that separated him from Maira. A barrier made of wood, and guilt, and memory, and the weight of everything unsaid.
On the other side, Maira stared at the ceiling, her fingers grazing the edge of the blanket. Her mind a blur of questions.
They were alone now.
And the truth was no longer something that could hide behind closed doors.
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