His Hafizah and her Hafiz

Returning

Abu Hurairah:

"Are you sure, hundred percent that it'll work?" I asked Huzaifah nervously, who had stuffed a pack of nurses and a doctor all in Safoora's room to inject some reverse medication to her abnormal illness.

"Yeah," Huzaifah nodded for the hundredth time, as I stressfully dragged my hand through my hair. He had briefly elaborated his meeting with Adam and his uncle to me, and his experiments of using the drops of both chemicals on a few lab animals before making sure it was fine and moving on to Safoora with the reverse shot. With the help of a group of scientists, he had the chemicals surveyed and placed under critical observation for a few long weeks before we were notified to give it a try under severe risks. If she died, the hospital declared that it wasn't their responsibility, and thus, we were to be at blame.

"I don't know if this is the right decision." I sighed heavily, my breath stuck in my throat as I glanced at Safoora's unconscious body. What if this reverse medication was going to be the cause of her death? I won't be able to forgive myself then.

"We've got to try, Abu Hurairah. I know there's a huge risk, but... still we've got to give it a shot." Huzaifah mumbled stressfully, staring at Safoora as well with a longing look. 

When a nurse catiously pierced her arm with the needle, we all winced and chanted 'bismillah' from the pit of our hearts. I really hoped Allah would help her, because we were all reciting rounds of the Quran for her, day and night, and as the scholars say, the Quran is Allah's holy words, the most powerful thing in the universe. A curable medicine!

"She has to fight it back, or else it won't work. It'll also take a lot of time to come into effect as well. Months, perhaps, don't know!" Huzaifah told me with a shake of his head, bursting my bubble. "It all depends upon her, and... if she doesn't remember us when she wakes up, we can't fret. Okay?"

"She's going to forget us?" I sputtered, my mind swirling with disbelief. Me? All our moments?

No. 

"I really, don't know how much she'd forgot. When she wakes up inshallah, we'd soon find out." Huzaifah mumbled grievously, unconsciously playing with an empty glass tube in his hands as he stared at Safoora with a heavy sigh.

She was bound to forget me first anyway, because our encounter was only for a year at most.

Safoora POV:

I was seated in the living room, on one of our grey three-seater couches. The day light seeped in through the window creating a huge pool of light on the carpet. The living room glistened with the tranquil sunlight, while the birds chirped from the outside world; their voices wafting in through the open netted window.

I inhaled deeply, the fresh breeze from the outside world swept in through the window cooling the room, and I breathed it all in closing my eyes. It felt great.

Oh, I missed this!

My attention was suddenly jerked to the old man sitting in front of me, on a couch a few feets away. He had a huge pile of books by his side, while his own nose was buried in one of the textbooks in his hands. He had a set of glasses on, and his black beard was streaked with the white strands of old ageness. He seemed around the age of fifty or sixty, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that... he was familiar. What was his name again? Abu...

He seemed so close, yet so distant. The young image of him was rapidly fading away from my mind like a glitching TV that had trouble coming back to life. Everytime, I tried to remember his younger face, my memory glitched, it lagged, and I couldn't remember his name anymore. Only a single smile of his reminded me of a single blurred memory, that was all. Was I forgetting?