Syed was interrogated by the police. After he walked out of the station he was called by the hospital. It was a doctor, telling him that the police had brought her in time and her operation would start. It would take about an hour or two. So now, he was driving to his mom's hospital where she was in a coma. He knew he had enough time so he decided to take his time and visit her. 

He made his way to his mom's hospital, his mind still reeling from everything that had happened. He couldn't shake the image of Ayesha lying on the ground, shot by his dad. He felt a mixture of anger and fear, wondering if she would be okay. When he walked into his mom's room, his heart ached at the sight of her lying motionless in the hospital bed. Her once vibrant face now looked pale and lifeless, a stark contrast to the lively woman who had raised him.

He stood by her bedside, taking in her features. The machine that monitored her heart rate made an incessant beeping sound that filled the room, each beep a painful reminder of her fragile state. Syed took her hand in his, feeling how cold and clammy it was.

He spoke to his mom, even if he knew she couldn't hear or respond. It was hard, but it made him feel connected to her somehow. He held her hand tighter, feeling the roughness of her skin, the same skin that had held onto him so many times when he was a child. He told her everything, from the time his dad threatened him to her getting shot and being in operation. 

'He'll be in prison.' Syed said. 'We're free, mom. He won't be there to hurt us ever again. He deserves it. So please, wake up.' His voice wavered. 'You would've been so happy if you saw him getting handcuffed.' 

Syed continued to talk to his mom, his voice wavering with emotion. He tried to imagine her reaction if she had been awake. He knew she would have been overjoyed to see his dad getting taken away, handcuffed and humiliated. But all he could see was her pale, motionless face, still and unresponsive.

He squeezed her hand, his eyes filling with tears. 'I miss you, mom,' he whispered. 'I need you. I...I'm lost without you.'

He knew she couldn't respond, but he couldn't help the words that poured out of him. He had held in so much for so long, and now all the emotions came flooding out.

He wept as he talked. 'Do you remember when you would hold me after he screamed at me like usual? Or the time we would look at Dad's pictures imagining what it would be like if he was still alive? I used to wish you would stand up to him, tell him he's wrong, but you never did.' Syed said, his voice cracking. 'Why didn't you do anything?'

He regretted asking that question as soon as he said it. He knew his mom had her reasons for staying quiet, for not standing up to his dad. But a part of him still wondered what it would have been like if she had. Would things have been different? Would their lives have been happier?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. 'I'm sorry,' he said quietly. 'I shouldn't have asked that. I know you did your best.'

He looked at his mom again, her features unchanged. He felt a pang of guilt for even thinking that he could blame her for anything. She had done everything she could to protect him.

He sat there, holding his mom's hand, feeling lost and alone. He had thought that getting rid of his dad would bring him peace, but instead, it had left him with more questions than ever. He felt like a child again, vulnerable and scared, wishing for his mom to wake up and hold him.

He looked at his mom, hoping to see some sign of life, some sign that she was going to wake up soon. But her face remained unchanged, her breathing slow and steady. Syed felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him. What if she never woke up? What if she remained in that coma forever, with him never getting the chance to say goodbye?

The thought was unbearable, and Syed felt a lump form in his throat. He squeezed her hand tighter, willing her to wake up, to open her eyes and look at him. But nothing happened. The room was quiet save for the consistent beeping of the heart monitor.

Just then his phone rang. It was an unknown number. He realized it was probably from the hospital. He quickly picked up the call, hoping for good news. 

'Mr. Ahmed?' The doctor's voice came.

Syed's heart raced as he heard the doctor's voice. 'Yes, that's me.' he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

'Alhamdulillah the operation has gone well, the bullet missed her heart by an inch. She has woken up.'

***

It had been about a week since Ayesha was discharged. The bandage on her chest was still there slowly healing. She was watching TV in the living room. The news reporter said, 'A 58-year-old man by the name of Farid Haque was arrested and was sentenced to jail for 25 years for the attempted murder of his stepson Syed Ahmed's wife-' 

Syed turned the TV off and she grumbled. 'Hey, what was that for?'

'I don't want to think about him or that incident,' he said, buttoning up his shirt since he was going to visit his Mom. 'We should focus on you getting better.'

'Still can't believe you're on the news.' She mused.

Syed smirked, buttoning up the last button on his shirt. 'Well, I guess I'm famous now.' he joked. 'But seriously, I'd rather not have made headlines because of my dad and his attempt to kill you.'

'Man, you turned it off when they were about to say my name.' 

Syed chuckled. 'You just want your 15 minutes of fame, huh?' He shook his head. 'Trust me, you're better off not hearing your name mentioned in the same breath as my dad's.'

She looked at him, slowly standing up. 'So, you're visiting mom... She still hasn't woken up, huh?'

Syed looked at her, his expression serious now. 'Yeah, she's still in a coma. The doctors don't know when or if she'll wake up.' He sighed heavily. 'It's hard, you know? I just want her to wake up and be okay.'

She nods. 'I can't believe he had hit her so bad she's in a coma.'

Syed clenched his jaw tightly. 'I can't believe it either. I always knew he was a terrible man, but to do something like this...' He trailed off. 'It's just so messed up.'

Syed felt her arms wrap around him, and he returned the hug gently, mindful of her injury. The feeling of her body against his comforted him, and he took a moment to just hold her close. 'Careful,' he cautioned, 'You're still healing.'

'I know.' She murmured against his collarbone.

Syed laughed softly. 'You're stubborn, you know that?' He held her a little tighter, relishing the warmth of her body against his. 'But then again, that's one of the things I love about you.' He leaned back a little to look at her, his eyes searching her face. Despite everything that had happened, he was grateful to have her. He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face. 'You scared me when that bullet hit you,' he admitted quietly. 'I thought I was going to lose you.'

She smiled weakly, trying to play off his concern. 'You worry too much. I'm tougher than I look.' But her voice betrayed her, and she winced slightly as she shifted her position.

Syed caught the wince, his expression turning serious again. 'See? You're not 100% healed yet. You need to take it easy.' He gently pushed her back onto the couch, trying to hide his worry.

She rolled her eyes but allowed him to push her back. 'Alright, alright. I'll take it easy. But you're no fun.'

Syed chuckled, sitting down beside her. 'I'm plenty of fun when you're not in danger and your life isn't hanging in the balance.' He took her hand in his, idly tracing the lines on her palm. 'Just promise me you'll be more careful from now on, okay?'

'Okay, I promise. Now go, she awaits.'

Syed nodded, squeezing her hand gently before standing up. 'I'll be back soon, okay? Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone.'

'Like?' 

Syed pretended to think. 'Like...jumping out of a window, for one.' She playfully hit his arm, and he chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. 'Kidding, kidding. Just...rest, okay? No adventurous activities for a while.'

'You sound like my dad.' 

Syed laughed. 'Maybe I'm just taking my role as your husband seriously.' He ruffled her hair affectionately. 'Seriously, though. Take it easy, okay? I don't want to come back and find you passed out on the floor or something.'

She pushed him up. 'Up you go, mother hen.'

Syed chuckled and pretended to swat away her hands. 'Okay, enough of that. I have to go.' He stepped back, smiling fondly at her. 'Don't burn the house down.' 

She rolled her eyes. 'I won't, now go.' 

He kissed her head. 'Love you, sweetheart.' Waving goodbye to each other he put on his shoes and walked out the door. 

***

The drive to the hospital was quiet, giving Syed time to organize his thoughts. He couldn't shake the image of his mom lying motionless in that hospital bed, her face pale and her body frail. It hurt him to see her like that, to see her so vulnerable after a life of strength and resilience.

As he pulled into the hospital parking lot, Syed took a deep breath to gather his bearings. He parked the car and stepped out, feeling a lump in his throat. Each step towards the hospital felt heavy, like he was walking towards a place of sadness and despair.

The hospital lobby was familiar to him by now. The sound of footsteps on the linoleum floor, the muted voices at the nurse's station, and the faint smell of antiseptic. Usually, these things were just background noise, but now they seemed to be amplified, as if the hospital itself were reminding him of the pain he was here to face.

As he made his way to his mom's room, he passed by other rooms with patients in them. The doors were mostly open, and he caught glimpses of various people in beds, some with visitors and some with none.

Finally, he reached his mom's room. The door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open slowly, bracing himself for the sight of her lying in bed. As always, it was both a relief and a pain to see her like this, her heart rate slow and steady, blissfully unaware of the world around her. 

Syed walked over to her bedside and sat down in the provided chair. He looked at her face, still not used to the sight of her lying so still, so quiet. He took her hand in his, feeling the cold, thin fingers against his palm.

'Hey, mom,' he began. He hated the sound of his own voice, the way it reverberated in the empty silence of the room. 'It's me, Syed. I'm here.' 

There was no response, of course. The beeping of the heart monitor remained steady, like a constant drumbeat keeping time. 

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his own racing heart. He had so much to say, so many things to tell her, but the words felt stuck in his throat. Where to start?

'I... I just wanted to come by and see you,' he continued. 'And to tell you that everything's okay. We're okay. You don't have to worry about us anymore.' 

The words sounded hollow to his own ears. How could anything be okay when she was in this state? How could he say they were fine when she was lying in a coma? He squeezed her hand gently, trying to find comfort in the physical touch.

'Dad's in prison now.' He continued. 'You should've seen his face when he got arrested.' He chuckled but it sounded awkward. 'We're free from him now. You won't have to put up with his torture anymore.'

He paused, feeling tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. He blinked them back, refusing to show any weakness. He needed to be strong for her, even in her unresponsive state. 

'I wish you were awake,' he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 'I wish I could talk to you, hear your voice. Sometimes I forget what it sounds like.' He looked down at her hand, feeling the rough, cracked skin against his.

'You always used to hold my hand, do you remember that?' He asked, his voice choked with emotion. 'When dad would scream at me, you would hold my hand and tell me it would be okay.' He took a breath, trying to keep his composure. 'I don't know if you can hear me, or if you even know it's me holding your hand. But I'm here, mom.' 

He paused again, the steady beeping of the heart monitor the only sound in the room. It almost felt mocking, like the ticking of a clock, always counting down to something. Syed looked at her face, searching for any sign of change, any sign that she was aware of his presence. But there was nothing, her eyelids remained shut, her face placid. 

He tried to find more words to say, but his mind felt blank, like all the words he had ever known had suddenly vanished. Instead, he continued to hold her hand, feeling both connected and separated from her at the same time.

Just then, the door opened, and a nurse walked in, checking on the various machines by the bedside. Syed looked up, grateful for the interruption. The nurse smiled politely at him before checking the IV and writing down some notes on the chart. 

'Everything looks good,' she said, her tone professional yet caring. 'Her vitals are stable, and she hasn't had any disturbances.' She gave Syed a sympathetic look. 'Do you need anything?' 

Syed shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking. 'No, no I'm fine,' he said softly. 'Thank you.'

The nurse nodded and left, the door shutting softly behind her. Syed was alone with his mom again, the quiet of the room settling back over them like a thick, heavy blanket.

He looked at her again, her face still and calm, her chest rising and falling with each steady breath. He wanted to shake her, to yell at her to wake up, to tell her how lost he felt without her. But he didn't. He just sat there, holding her hand, feeling more helpless than he ever had in his life. 

The minutes ticked by, punctuated only by the ever-present 'beep beep beep' of the heart monitor. Syed felt like he was in a dream, a surreal version of reality where his world was silent and still. 

He decided to talk about Ayesha. Hoping that picturing her face would make him feel better.

'Ayesha's doing well,' he said quietly, tracing his thumb over his mom's knuckles. 'She's healing well, though she's stubborn and insists on doing things before she's fully recovered.' A hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he spoke about her, the mental image of her stubbornness bringing him a small amount of comfort. 

'She's impatient,' he continued, his voice gaining a bit of warmth. 'She wants to be back on her feet as soon as possible, but I keep telling her to take it easy.' He smiled again, the memory of her playful eyerolls bringing a hint of joy to his somber mood. 

As he spoke, he felt a strange sense of peace wash over him. The image of Ayesha, her dark eyes sparkling with determination and her voice clear and alive, was a stark contrast to the quiet stillness of the room. For a moment, it was as though the walls of the hospital had vanished and he was transported to a world where everything was safe and bright. 

He continued to share stories about Ayesha, painting a vivid picture of her spirit and her resilience. His voice grew more animated, his eyes shining with affection. He forgot about the beeping machines, the sterile scent of the room, and the pain of his mom's unresponsive state. 

He didn't even realize time had passed until that same nurse came and said, 'Mr. Syed, visiting hours are over.'

Syed looked up, startled by the intrusion. For a moment, he had lost himself in his stories, in the visions of a life beyond the hospital walls. The nurse gave him an apologetic smile, gesturing towards the door. 

'Right,' Syed said, reluctantly letting go of his mom's hand. He stood up, the mundane reality of the hospital seeping back into his mind. 'Thank you,' he said to the nurse, his voice quiet again.

He turned back to his mom, feeling a pang of guilt at having to leave her. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. 'I'll come back tomorrow, mom,' he whispered. 'I promise.'

With a final glance, he walked towards the door, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty room. As he stepped out into the hallway, he felt a sense of emptiness washing over him. The outside world felt cold and harsh compared to the sanctuary he had built for himself in that room.