Heavy eyelids rose. The bright light of the hospital room blinded her. Blurry images and indistinct colours were in front of her. Nawal blinked several times until her eyes focused. She only saw the one person she least expected.

Salman. Her husband. The man who had deserted her.

"Salman," she whispered.

His head shot up and their eyes met. Perplexed, she gazed at his weathered face as tears glistened in his eyes. He had a much longer beard. It had grown below his chin. There were dark circles and puffiness around his eyes. His long hair falling on his forehead and his face.

"Nawal," he breathed.

Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers in gratitude. His eyes never leaving hers. A tear dribbling down his cheek.

"Alhumdulilah....Alhumdulilah (Praise be to Allah)" he repeatedly mumbled. Oh how much he wished he could embrace her. Bring her close to his chest. To feel her warmth and her heart beating against his. Appreciating her for who she was. But he couldn't. She was laying flat on the ICU bed with many equipments to her body.

Her mind was not accepting what she was seeing.

What had happened?

Where was she?

And what was this consistent throbbing at the back of her head?

"W..w..." her voice croaked. She couldn't speak. Her throat was parched and scratchy. She grunted, putting an effort to clear her throat. She inhaled deeply, air filling up her chest.

Salman eyebrows drew together, seeing Nawal in discomfort, he immediately pressed the button to call the nurse.

"W...w...water," she rasped.

Nodding curtly, he glanced at the nurse who entered the room. "She is awake and is asking for water."

Nawal looked at the nurse with questions in her eyes. As her eyes wandered around the room, she started to realize she was in the hospital. What did happen to her?

The old nurse smiled, "That's great news. As for water, we can give her a teaspoon at a time for now."

"Okay," he muttered.

Grabbing the mineral water bottle on the table beside the bed, Salman took hold of the spoon the nurse gave him.

The teaspoon full of water he carefully brought it to her lips. Her chapped lips opened slightly and he slipped the teaspoon vigilantly in her mouth. The few drops of water wasn't enough to eradicate her thirst.

"More." Nawal said in a low tone.

"No that's not advisable at the moment. Let the doctor come and examine. Accordingly, we will determine whether she can intake fluids." The nurse glanced at the IV fluids bottled that were attached to her hand, "She shouldn't be dehydrated as she is on constant IV fluid."

Nodding imperceptibly, Salman turned back to Nawal. He squeezed her hand affectionately, his eyes speaking what his lips didn't utter.

She didn't fathom at all. What was going on? Why was she in the hospital? There was a sense of emptiness in her. Was she hungry? She felt her stomach was too empty. Muddled, she gazed at Salman. She had so many questions but she wasn't able to voice them.

Her eyelids drooped. It was excruciating to keep them open.

"Stay with me Nawal. Don't go back to sleep yet. The doctor is on his way to examine you," Salman's desperate voice snapping her out of the sleepy haze. There was fear laced in his voice.

She just didn't apprehend at all.

****

The doctor had come in a few minutes. Nawal wasn't able to answer many questions only through the movement of her head and one word answers. By the time, the doctor ended the examination she was too exhausted and her eyelids had dipped again.

Dr. Al-Ghaffari was jotting down last patient progress notes on the hospital file that rested at the food tray table beside Nawal's bed. He then beckoned Salman to follow him. The two men strode out of her hospital critical care room.

Dr. Al-Ghaffari summarized Nawal's condition, "She is responding well. There are no health concerns to be worried about as of now. We did see she was able to move her hand and leg, although, she may not have the ability to control her limbs movement at the moment. She will need physiotherapy so she can move effortlessly again." The doctor took a deep breath. He wavered for a second, "Now as for amnesia..." his voice trailed off.

Salman crossed his arms over his chest, his shoulders squared. He was ready to face anything. When he could go through the worst phase in her recovery, the rest should be fairly easy. "Yes doctor?"

"She may suffer from short-term memory loss." Salman eyebrows rose in alarm. The doctor quickly went on, "What I am trying to say is that she may not ever remember what happened that day when the accident happened. This is common in patients with head injuries especially those who were in a coma for this long. She was in a coma for approximately 20 days." The doctor frowned, "Although, I am a little apprehensive she didn't mention the baby. She didn't notice any difference in her pregnancy state. We will take one step at a time and see when she remembers."

Salman's heart sank, Nawal had been so excited about motherhood. It would be disastrous if she didn't remember her pregnancy. How will she ever bond with the baby? He heaved, he was wrong, recovery was a long road ahead.

This time, she would not take this journey alone.

He was with her. Today and always.

****

The next day, Salman was at the hospital much earlier. He normally visited her around noon time but today the anticipation of knowing she is conscious and would wake up was the reason why he rushed with his morning routine with the baby. He was out of the house even without any breakfast. Now as he walked in hospital room, his heart beat accelerated seeing she was awake and she was attentively listening to the nurse.

Walking up to her bed, their eyes met. Immediately, her eyes shone with relief. This was all new and baffling for her. "Assalam u alaikum," he greeted her with a smile.

Nawal was not interested in replying his greeting. She had too many questions, "Why am I at the hospital?"

His smile turned to a smirk. She was recovering fast. Last night all she could do was say one word at a time but seeing her uttering a full sentence immensely thrilled him.

He moved forward, ignoring the presence of the nurse, he kissed her cheek and then spoke near her ear, "You had an accident."

"Accident?" her eyebrows drew together. Why couldn't she recall any accident? And what was wrong with Salman? Kissing her like that. This just didn't make sense.

He could see she was thinking hard. Trying to remember anything at all.

Before, he could answer, Nurse Jane asked, "Why don't we try raising your bed a bit so you are upright? What do you say Nawal?"

Nawal nodded slowly.

With the remote control that changed the position of the bed, Nurse Jane upraised the bed. Now that Nawal was laying more upright it felt much better. She could see the room in her peripheral view.

That is when she sensed a difference in her. How did her stomach bend so flexibly? Her mind wandered off thinking of times how it was awkward it was to sit up because of her...her...

"Baby" she voiced.

In a panic, her eyes rose to Salman. Her unsteady hand moved to her flat stomach. "The baby?"

Nawal was worrying but Salman was pleased in seeing how she was slowly recalling everything prior to the accident. Again, he stepped closer to her bed, "The baby is fine."

She shook her head faintly, "No...no ... the baby."

Taking her hand in his, their fingers interlaced and their palms brushed against each other. Their eyes met, "We have a beautiful baby girl. She is at home waiting for her mother to come to her."

Their baby girl? Why didn't she remember giving birth to her? Throughout the pregnancy she had been waiting for him to accept their baby. Now that she was bewildered of the circumstances his demeanour was far conflicting than what she knew of her husband.

What did he say? Baby girl. She pursed her lips, recklessly putting an effort to recall anything regarding the baby, her face, anything at all. She mused out loud, "Baby girl?"

He nodded slowly, "Yes our baby girl." He thought for a minute and then took out his phone, "In fact, here I will show you her picture."

Bringing the phone near her face so she could gaze at the picture of the little baby, Salman bent down and could peek at the phone, "She looks exactly like you."

Enthralled, Nawal was speechless as her eyes never escaped the smart phone screen. "I want to see her."

"Soon inshaa Allah. She isn't allowed here. Once you are out of critical care room then I will bring her to the hospital."

In irritation, she whined, "I want to go home."

"Very soon you will. I can see great progress." Dr Al-Ghaffari said entering her room. He was on his morning rounds. Smiling at Nawal, Dr Al Ghaffari opened her hospital file, "Do you remember who I am?"

Nawal carefully studied the doctor's face and then replied, "The doctor from last night."

"Very good. I am impressed. Now let's proceed with your check-up. We want to see how well you are able to move..."

The doctor examined every improvement in her health. Nawal was one resilient woman, now that she was awake, fast progress was seen in every part of her recovery.

****

"Don't you have to go to work?" Nawal asked that late afternoon. She was sleeping for many hours, as she drowsily raised her eyelids, she found Salman yet again beside her bed. That was odd. Since when did he spend a day with her and not at his work?

"Work can wait. Your health is more important." He murmured. Her eyebrows arched in astonishment. This was new.

He then prodded, "How do you feel now?"

"Better."

Now that she was transferred to a regular hospital room in the in-patient hospital ward instead of the critical care. It was far easier with lesser number of equipment and devices attached to her body. Although, the tubes on her hands were still inserted at the back of her hand, aggravating and vexing her. The nurse had replied only when she was ready to discharge these would be taken off.

"There is someone here to meet you." Salman gently explained. "Do you feel you are up to the meeting?"

After the doctor's check-up, her father and Arbaaz had visited her. It had been an emotional moment seeing her father tear up. Even Arbaaz was emotional, although, he always concealed his feelings.

"I think I will leave you alone here to meet with the visitor." Salman said, rising to his feet.

"No." she shook her head slightly, "Stay with me." She was still a little apprehensive of what was going on. Salman hadn't given many details. All she was aware of was that she had an accident and then she was being treated for the injury at the back of her head.

"Okay." Salman whispered.

There was a silhouette at the door. Nawal tilted her head to have a better vision of who it was. The woman came into the light and Nawal's eyes rounded. The woman standing in the room was her mother but she didn't look like her mother at all. The woman she had known all her life was not like the one she was staring at now.

Since the early days of her childhood, she remembered her mother adorning her eyes with kohl first thing in the morning and lipstick painted her lips for at least half of the day. Her hair was always immaculately arranged. No one would see her in a shabby looking dress. Her mother had always been very fussy about her appearance. But today, the woman standing in front of her was anything like her.

She looked old.

Her mother had aged considerably. With no brush or stroke of make-up, Ghazala looked plain. No not plain but humble. Dressed in a simple lawn white shalwar kameez and a plain black hijab over it, Ghazala was an altered woman altogether.

"Mom?" Nawal bewilderment was obvious.

Hesitant at first, Ghazala was rooted to the ground. It was only when Salman stepped back from the bed encouraging her to come closer, Ghazala took the last few steps. Her hands trembled as she cradled Nawal's face.

"Beti..." tears shone in her eyes. "Meri baachi (my daughter)" she kissed Nawal's forehead.

Now this was more peculiar than Salman's behaviour. What exactly going on? Nawal wasn't able to contain her thoughts to herself. She pulled back from her mother, pressing herself against the pillow and mattress. "Are you alright?" Nawal narrowed her eyes.

Ghazala patted Nawal's cheek, "I am."

In frustration, Nawal glanced at Salman, "I am getting fed up now. Please tell me what happened to me. Everyone is acting so strange. No one is their self now."

Ghazala and Salman exchanged a knowing look. Coming next to the other side of the bed, Salman placed his hand on top of hers. "You had an accident.—"

"I know that," Nawal jaw clenched in fury.

Salman heaved and then patiently went on, "You had a head injury and was in a coma. There was an emergency C-section to save the baby."

Stunned, Nawal stared at him dumbfounded. "Coma?" she echoed.

"Don't stress yourself. You are fine now." Ghazala cut in.

Nawal ignored her mother and persisted, "How long was I in a coma?"

Warily, Salman answered, "18 days."

She gasped.

"Salman maybe you shouldn't have—" Ghazala was voicing out her thoughts but Salman interrupted her, "It's okay Khala I spoke to the doctor and he said we could tell her."

Nawal's thoughts were directed only towards the baby. She was already 18 days and not once met her. She didn't carry the baby or experienced any of her first milestones.

"I want to see the baby." Her gaze moving from Ghazala to Salman.

"You will. I spoke to the ward nurse she said tomorrow afternoon I can bring the baby." Salman gently explained.

She was exasperated and infuriated with his reply. If she had the strength, she would have argued. But as usual, strength was draining out of her. However, right that moment, her brothers and their wives walked in the hospital room.

"Our baby sis is finally awake," Shahbaz exclaimed. Drowsily, Nawal smiled at her brother. Faraz too sauntered to the bed and kissed her forehead, "It's good to have you back."

The smile lingered on her face as her eyelids drooped. It was delightful to be surrounded by those who loved her.

They were her strength.

For them, she would bounce back to her health.

****

The birds were eating the stale bread crumbs in the bird house at Chloe's backyard garden. The white fluffy clouds adorned the bright blue sky. Sitting on the wrought iron antique garden chair, Daud gazed at the flowers surrounding him. His parents spent a lot of their time gardening lately. The fruits of their hard work were evident. The rose bush was blooming with countless red roses. The lavender shrub fragrance was wafting throughout the garden. The flowerbeds were vibrant with a variety of summer flowers.

It was agonising to spend the weekdays at home. Being confined indoors at all times was taking its toll on him. He was irritated and agitated most days. With the help of his father, he was now sitting in the backyard, enjoying the fresh air and the sunshine. Never in his life, had he appreciated the small comforts of life as he did now. He would do anything to be able to stroll on his own without any help. That wasn't possible, he still had months of recovery to go through. He was getting there bit by bit.

Bringing a tray with two mugs, "I thought you and I will have tea here. What do you say?" Ibrahim said, setting the tea mug in front of Daud on the glass top table.

Daud slowly nodded, his uninjured hand wrapped around the warm mug. It wasn't just tea his father wanted to share with him. It was more.

Moments passed by, both men that had stark resemblance sipped their tea.

Ibrahim was gazing at the chirpy birds that were eating bread crumbs from the bird house, "You know I was a young boy when I met your mother. We were in last year of primary school. It didn't take long for us to be best friends."

Intrigued, Daud leaned forward. His eyes on his father.

Ibrahim was lost in the past. With a faraway look, he remembered, "Your mother was that one best friend I could count on during school days. I was bullied because I wasn't fluent in English. Your mother would always make sure no one hurt me. As the years went by and we completed our secondary school I knew one thing for sure. I couldn't lose her." He glanced at his son, "Now that I look back at my feelings I think even during those innocent childhood days my heart had recognized that she is the one."

One side of Daud's lips curled upwards. His parents were the ideal couple in love. No matter what the adversary was they had easily faced it and never once their love and trust had faltered for each other.

"I think your heart had recognized she is the one the night you met her," Ibrahim said quietly.

Hastily, Daud looked away from his father's scrutinizing gaze. Intently looking at the inside of the empty cup, Daud was out of words.

"She is special, Daud." Sipping his tea, Ibrahim went on, "The eve of Nawal's wedding I had thought perhaps she is mercenary. My doubts remained even when Chloe called her and asked if we could meet regularly with Yousef. But you know what?"

Out of curiosity, Daud looked up inexorably.

When their eyes met, Ibrahim revealed, "I have tried in so many ways to support her financially. Chloe offered and spoke to her. Every time she declined and the last time she even threatened us that she would never meet up if we ever brought this up." His voice turned solemn, "She has struggled a lot in the last year or so. We have seen Yousef not even having warm clothes for winter. It really upset your mother and me."

Daud's eyes widened. "Why was I informed of this?"

"Would you have cared? Your madness in taking revenge was all that mattered to you," Ibrahim scoffed.

When Daud didn't reply, Ibrahim explained, "We bought clothes for him last winter and urged her to accept them as gifts for our grandchild. That is when she conceded. The house rents are so high, it is difficult to cope financially for her but not once she complained or seek our help."

Ibrahim's words tore his heart. It was his fault that she and Yousef suffered so much in the last year. If only, he had not gone in madness and literally kicked her out of the apartment. He pressed his temple with his forefinger and middle finger. He had a sudden headache.

"Don't make the same mistake as Aba." Ibrahim softly said.

Daud's heart hammered loudly. Never had his father spoke of the unfairness Adil had shown towards him and his mother.

"Don't turn your back from your own blood. Yousef needs you. He needs his father. You need to do justice to the atrocities you committed against Susan. She is very soft hearted. Not once she said ill of you. Even though she had every right to complain to us." Ibrahim said his heart out. It was time Daud own up to his responsibilities.

Rubbing one side of his face, Daud closed his eyes. A multitude of emotions within him. When his blue eyes met his father's, there was a resolution in them.

"I have wasted precious time running after the unattainable when in fact I could have spent it watching my son grow." His gaze fell on a wilting rose, "I have come to realize how temporary this life is. It is time I live with those who are most important to me."