CROSSED PATHS

|26|

Kano, Nigeria.
Nine months later.

"You'll be alright, baby. I know you can do it," Aryan whispered, on the verge of tears, gently wiping the beads of sweat from Aira's forehead.

"Try a little harder and focus," the nurse instructed firmly.

"You can do it, baby," Aryan encouraged softly.

"Shut the heck up and let me concentrate, man!" Aira snapped as another wave of pain tore through her.

After twenty minutes of agonizing screams and strenuous pushing with no result, the doctors made the call for an emergency cesarean section.

The nurse handed Aryan the paperwork, and without hesitation, he signed and returned them. Aira was wheeled from the labor room to the operating theater.

"I... I love you, Aryan... Please forgive me if I've ever wronged you..." Aira choked out, tears mingling with her pain.

"Shh... You've never done anything wrong. Please, don't say that. You'll be alright, In Sha Allah," Aryan reassured her, his own tears now streaming down his face.

"I love you... Please, move on when I'm gone, Aryan... I love you..." she whispered as they wheeled her through the theater doors.

Sultana and Aira's mother hurried over to console Aryan.

"Stay calm, Aryan. In Sha Allah, Aira and the baby will be fine," Aira's mother said, her hand gently resting on his trembling shoulder. She, too, needed the comfort.

Inside the operating room, urgency filled the air.

"Doctor, the baby's crowning!" a nurse announced, her voice tense as they hastily prepared for delivery.

From the hallway, Aryan could hear Aira's piercing scream, and he rushed after them.

"Her case is complicated," the doctor muttered as they worked quickly.

"You can do it, baby! In Sha Allah, you'll be alright!" Aryan wept, clutching her hand as he struggled to stay strong. But as the minutes ticked by, his heart sank deeper with dread.

One final scream tore through the room, and then, the sound of a baby's loud cry—followed immediately by another. Twins.

But no one noticed the way Aira's eyes slowly closed, her strength slipping away.

"Baby!" Aryan called out desperately, shaking her hand.

"Sir, please leave the room," the nurse insisted.

"No! I'm not going anywhere!" Aryan shouted, panic rising in his chest.

What he didn't know was that Aira was already gone.

The doctor checked for a pulse, then looked gravely at the nurse.

"Time of death: 10:24 a.m. Cause of death: prolonged labor."

Aryan stared at them, his mind refusing to grasp the words.

"What do you mean, doctor? What are you saying?"

"Baby! Baby! Please wake up! Please prove them wrong! You can't leave me! No! Noooooo!" Aryan's heart-wrenching sobs echoed through the sterile room as he collapsed to his knees.

The nurse covered her face, overwhelmed by emotion, as they left the room. The newborns were taken to the care unit. Sultana and Aira's mother were informed, and they rushed to the theater, tears in their eyes.

"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un," Hajiya Hana'a whispered, cradling Aira's body. "My baby, please wake up."

"Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un," Sultana murmured, wiping her tears.

An hour later, the nurse returned with the newborns, handing them gently to Sultana.

"They're twins, a boy and a girl. The boy came out first. May Allah rest her soul in Jannah and bless these babies," the nurse said before quietly leaving the room.

***

Both families gathered—the royal family and Aira's relatives. The younger ones wept openly, while the elders' grief was silent but no less profound. Aryan sat among them, his face devoid of any emotion, lost in a fog of despair.

Sultan led a prayer for Aira's soul. After a final farewell, Aira's brother and Aryan's cousins stepped forward to carry her body. More cries filled the room as they prepared to lay her to rest.

Aryan leaned down and kissed her wrapped forehead one last time. "I love you, and I always will. No one will ever replace you. Till we meet in Jannah, In Sha Allah."

Because it was Friday, they waited until after Salat al-Jumu'ah before she was taken to her final resting place. Thousands attended the Janazah prayer.

"We shouldn't cry for Aira. She died while bringing two souls into this world, and on a blessed day like Jumu'ah. We should be grateful. Alhamdulillah," Aira's father said upon their return from the burial.

"Indeed. May her soul rest in Jannatul Firdaus," Sultan added solemnly, and the room echoed with murmured 'Ameen's.

Aryan rose quietly and left the parlor. Everyone watched him with pity, knowing he hadn't yet held his babies. Tears welled up again when the infants began to cry.

"I don't know what to do. I gave them formula, but they barely took any," Sultana said, wiping her tears as she cradled one of the babies, while Aira's mother held the other.

"At this stage, they need their mother," Daada sighed sadly.

"Mom, since I'm nursing, why don't I feed them?" Layla suggested.

"No, Layla! I strongly object," Sultan said firmly.

"Why, Dad?" Layla asked, puzzled.

"When making decisions like this, we must consider both the present and the future. We wouldn't want a situation where, in the future, the children might wish to marry each other and can't because of a mistake made now," Sultan explained, and the elders nodded in agreement.

"The Prophet (PBUH) said: children who are breastfed by the same woman are considered 'milk-siblings' and are prohibited from marrying each other."

"We'll keep trying with the formula. They'll adjust in time," Hajiya Hana'a said, her voice raw from weeping.

Later, when the house had quieted down, Hajiya Hana'a approached her sister in private.

"Adda, we'll be leaving later. Where will the babies stay?"

"What do you suggest?" Sultana asked.

"By Allah, I'll support whatever decision you make. But in my opinion, they should stay here. You have more helping hands, and Aryan needs them too."

Sultana nodded, wiping her tears. "Alright. Our Aira is in Jannah, In Sha Allah." She embraced her sister, and they wept together until their tears ran dry.

***

She was truly a beautiful soul. May your soul rest in Jannah, Aira. You will be missed❤️🥺
LY💕.