I walked, more like saunter along the sick people, nurses and doctors. When my hand trembled, I clenched it into a fist. What if he never wakes up? A thought that pierced my heart, a thousand needles worth of pain. Tears lingered on my eyelids as I stopped by the vending machine, it hurts.

I rested my hand on the vending machine and breathed in and out, trying to synchronize my breathing. You would think in a hospital someone, anyone would notice that I am having a panic attack. As I looked around, my vision blurred, my heartbeat escalated with fretted thoughts. Thirty minutes have passed and Imad still hasn't woken up. Ya Allah please give ash-shifa (healing) to Imad... a dua instinctively formed in my heart, unable to mumble it but it was there in my mind and heart. You could say that lessened my panic attack and somehow I was able to breathe again, though still tremors overcame me. "Layla." An overfamiliar voice called out, Ahmed. I look besides me and see him, his eyes swollen and looking at me with a soft stare.

"Adil called me and explained everything," he said. "Imad is being moved to a private room, he's still unconscious but the doctors say his vital signs are good."

"Okay," I responded. My hand started trembling again, I quickly hid it behind my back.

"Do you need anything?" He asked, looking concerned. I move my head side to side, indicating no. He doesn't look mad, an emotion that I expected. Ahmed shifted his arms, crossing them across his chest. That's when I realized he was wearing a thobe, it was definitely a different look on him. A good type of different. We stood there for a while non of us saying anything, because honestly I didn't know what to say. I didn't know whether I should apologize, or talk about the wedding or tell him how worried I am. "Layla.." He said my name in a low tone, he stretched out his hand and clasped my hand. "He's going to be okay. It's not your fault... Don't worry," he spoke in a sincere tone.

I looked at him, hopeful. His words were filled with certain comfort, that I didn't want to object too. "We should be with him," I said. "Ahmed I think I know why he want back to the beach..." He looked at me intrigued.

"He went back to look for the ring. Maybe he thought I needed it for my wedding," I spoke, my voice breaking. Tears already racing down my cheeks. Ahmed pulled me in for a hug, it was sudden, unusual but it felt warm and secure. Despite the heaviness in my stomach fluttering because of the feeling of my body being pressed against his. The arms that held me were soft, yet strong. I didn't hug him back, nor did I push him away... My eyes were filled to the brim with tears. I don't know why I am being so emotional right now. All I know for sure is I don't want to lose Imad. He held me in his arms for a while, until I heard Adil's voice.

"Imad is awake," he said. Ahmed stopped hugging me. Adil walked before I could catch a glimpse of him, I paced behind him and followed him to the private room. Hearing that Imad is awake, felt like a weight being lifted off my heart. When I entered the room and saw him talking and alive, it was a complete relief. The nurse was standing besides the bed and she was talking to Imad. I walked towards the left bed-side and held his warm hands. "Imad habibi..." I said in a low tone and kissed his forehead.

"Layla," he mumbled my name, unable to speak aloud.

"I thought I'd lost you. I love you so much," I said in a low tone, still holding his hand.

"Sorry for... making you worried. I wanted to find your..."

"I know Imad. Don't worry."

"I will be back in an hour to check up on him," the nurse said, and looked at me. "And you need to rest Imad," she looks at him and smiles. When the nurse left, Ahmed walks in and heads straight towards the other bed side and greets him and holds his hand.

"Are you angry at me?" He asked his uncle. I looked at Ahmed and then Imad, a smile creeped on my lips.

"No I am not angry. But I was worried," he replied.

"I am sorry uncle Ahmed," he apologized.

"It's fine buddy, but please don't do that again. Next time I think I'll be the one in the hospital for worrying so much," he said and ruffled Imad's hair.

"Yes Imad you'll turn your uncle into an old grandpa before his time, and then he won't be able to play soccer," I said. Imad giggled.

"Layla I think we both know who's going to get old first," Ahmed said and looked at me. We had a moment, staring into each other's eyes - a look that didn't need any words. I couldn't get myself to look away, besides my efforts. My cheeks flushed and there was a tingly feeling in my stomach, giving away my obvious ecstatic. Adil clears his throat and begins to talk:

"I should be leaving now. I have somewhere I have to be. I'll come visit tomorrow."

"Insha'allah," I said. "Thank you." I turn and look at him.

"You're welcome," he replies. He says goodbye to Imad, and leaves without saying anything to Ahmed. I sat on the bed and started talking to Imad, until he eventually fall asleep.

I didn't leave his side, I watched him sleep — it reassured me that he's fine. Ahmed later on left the room and came back with coffee and a packet of potato chips. "There wasn't many options at the cafeteria," He said, while giving me the coffee.

"This is fine," I said, holding up the coffee.

"Okay." Ahmed sat down on the sofa. I left Imad's hand and took a sip of my coffee. "What about the wedding?" He spoke abruptly. I turned to look at him.

"I guess we'll have to take a rain-check," I said.

"Or we could not have a grand wedding." I looked at him, baffled mostly. "I mean you never wanted a big wedding, so we don't have too."

"You know as well as I do, this wedding is the solidity in this marriage."

"It's not the wedding, Layla. It's the love in the marriage..."

"What are you talking about?" I looked at him. Ahmed stood up from the sofa and walked towards me.

"What I mean to say is..." The door swung open and Sarah walked in holding a get-well-soon helium balloons and a teddy bear. Both of our attention averted to her. She wore an open abaya, and a scarf loosely hanged on her head.  

"The bride and groom in the hospital, instead at the their own wedding. I am so going to publish this story in my magazine," she said, as she kept the balloons and teddy bear on the arm-chair. "Don't worry the reception has been cancelled, the guests did complain but they promised to come to the next one - where nobody is in the hospital and you actually attend the wedding."

"Thank you Sarah," I told her.

"Don't thank me... Ahmed told me everything and I knew what had to be done. Is Imad okay?"

"Yeah he's fine," Ahmed replied.

"That's great," she said and stood on the other bed-side. She looked at Imad and smiled. "I am planning to go to America, and visit my mother."

"Oh Sarah that's great," I said and smiled.

"Along with Rayna, before she opens school. She keeps on insisting that Imad joins us."

"Well he can't," Ahmed replied in a harsh tone. He walked towards the window and stood there.

"What Ahmed is trying to say is that we will have to see if he is feeling better, and we will talk it over with Imad."

"It was just a suggestion. Maybe you guys would have more time to spend time together. Time is the greatest gift of all," She spoke in a modulating tone.

"That's thoughtful of you. Thank you," I replied.

"You are welcome. I have to go, Rayna is in the car with her nanny. I'll come back tomorrow," she said. I stood up and hugged her. "Bye Ahmed," she said before she left the room. Ahmed didn't answer back, he still stood by the window, staring outside. I walked to him and stood next to him.

"What messes us the most in life is the picture in our heart of how it's supposed to be," I said.

Mr Ahmed

My confession...
My love for you is uncontrollable.

"Ahmed," she called out my name. I looked at her.

I am sorry I hurt you so many times.

"Yes?"

Without you nothing makes sense.

"Your sister is just trying to make amends, I am sure she means no harm...." She stopped talking.

You have a place in my heart no one else could ever have.

"I am sorry for intervening. I know it's not my place. I know," She spoke in a quiet tone.

It's you. It's always been you.

"It's fine," I said. "You don't have to be sorry."

***
Thanks for reading.❤️