Three Blonde Wishes

Chapter 8 - Brave

Arzoo

Being brave does not mean not being scared.

It means despite being scared, you hang in there.

He was taken to the emergency ward and the scene was chaotic outside. Tension filled the air. Dr Drevis was in an important discussion with Dr Tanya and the other doctors when I ran to him. 'Where is he? Is he okay?' I asked him looking inside the room expecting to have a glimpse of him. Dr Drevis walked away without responding to my questions. He went inside the ward with sympathy in his eyes. 'Arzoo you need to calm down' Dr Tanya said as she held my shoulders stopping me from going to Dr Drevis. 'Calm down?' I mumbled as I lost my senses.
'How can you tell me to calm down when Atif is in such a condition? Are you out of your mind?' I yelled at her and the corridor went silent.
'Arzoo, we're afraid we can't save him' she responded ignoring my disrespectful behaviour. 'Atif was one of the most talented doctors we had here and we want to save him as much as you do but we're afraid we can't' she paused talking as I kept staring at her.
'He has multiple fractures and a glass pierced in his chest' She added.
'Dr. Drevis is the best surgeon we have here. He's going to try his best to save him. I'm a cardiologist too. I will be with him throughout the surgery. Please-'
'Please save him' I cried to her. 'Do whatever it takes. Please save him' I wept as I went down on my knees. She sat down as she held me. 'We're going to try our best Arzoo' Her voice broke as she hugged me blinking away her tears. 'Pray' She said and left inside the ward leaving me crying in the corridor.

I picked myself up and walked toward the ladies' washroom. It was empty. I looked at myself in the mirror. My dress and apron were stained with blood. My face blotched with his blood. I looked at my hands, bloody. I opened the tap and left my hand under the running water and watched the colourless water turning red. I closed my eyes and splashed water on my face. His face appeared in front of my eyes.

He dressed up as a groom on the Nikkah stage.

His laugh in the theatre.

His gentle smile when we accidentally crossed paths on the street.

His last smile while heading out with the tulips.

My brain recalled the sound of the crash and I bawled in pain.

I sat on the bench outside the operation ward desperately waiting for the doctors to come outside and tell me he was fine. I sat still continuously praying for his life, remembering all the good moments I had with him.

I remembered how he held my hand in the theatre. I looked at him as he walked holding my hand. I looked at our hands. They perfectly fit into each other. Almost like my hands were made for his.

I remember it was one of the first few days since I came to Amsterdam. One night his hand was on my stomach. I looked at him astonishingly but he was deep asleep. I remember how my hands hesitated to touch his arm. I picked his hand very hesitantly and kept it aside gently. Sometime later, he put his arm around my stomach again. And for some reason, I didn't move it aside this time. I let it be.

How one morning, the first thing I saw as I opened my eyes was him. Out of the shower, his hair wet, shirtless with his towel wrapped around his waist, his white shirt swirled in the air as he put his arms inside the sleeves. He glanced at me while buttoning his shirt. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.

And one time, He wrapped his arm around my shoulder when Maa video called. He spoke respectfully to my parents and looked at me with eyes full of love. I still remember the way he looked at me. That look of his was enough to make me feel loved.