Dare You To Love Me

«16» isn't it delicate?

The sterile hospital room, and heavy scent of disinfectant which permeated the air made nausea churn in Yaseerah’s gut.

The hum of machines and the faint whispers of patients from adjacent rooms only increased the nausea she felt, and with each passing second that Mamu remained unconscious, her mind swirled with inexplicable dread.

Minutes seemed to drag on like hours, the ticking of the clock on the wall only intensifying the anxiety in her heart.

She couldn’t help but feel responsible for Mamu’s condition. If only she’d paid closer attention to her, and insisted that she pay her doctor a visit like she had promised Bilal she would. If only she had spent her time with Mamu, instead of chasing after a relationship that could never be.

Her thoughts kept swirling in a maelstrom of guilt and regret, threatening to consume her, until she felt warm hands engulf hers, and she raised her head, locking eyes with Mamu.

The sight of her mother’s soft, reassuring smile did little to alleviate her guilt or the foreboding feeling that had hung over her since Mamu’s hospitalization, but relief had her shoulders slumping.

“How are you doing?” Mamu asked, her voice feeble yet filled with warmth.

Yaseerah let out a soft gasp as she exchanged a glance with Bilal, who remained unusually quiet.

It was typical of Mamu to worry about them even in her own dire condition.

“We should be asking you that, Mamu,” Yaseerah replied, a hesitant smile gracing her lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Mamu admitted, lifting a hand to beckon Bilal closer. “I’m so sorry for making you both worry about me.”

“No need to apologize, Mamu,” Bilal spoke, his voice raw with emotions, but he didn’t move from where he stood perched against the wall. “We’re just grateful you’re awake.”

“What time is it? Have you had iftar?” Mamu asked, struggling to sit up on the bed.

“It’s 7 a.m.,” Yaseerah responded with a tight-lipped smile, as she helped Mamu sit up, rearranging the pillows behind her, so she was more comfortable.

Mamu didn’t need to know that neither of them had had anything more than a cup of tea and biscuits Dr. Khatri had forced them to take last night, nor had they slept a wink since she had been admitted.

Bilal finally moved closer, still wearing an expression that mingled between fear and concern.

“Oh, I’ve been out for a long time,” Mamu chuckled good-naturedly. Typical of Mamu to try to make light of the situation. But Yaseerah couldn’t find anything funny in it.

The image of Mamu convulsing and Bilal’s shrill scream were forever etched in her mind, and it was going to talk a long time before they stopped haunting her dreams and waking moments.

The door to the hospital room creaked open, and in walked Dr. Khatri–a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor and a reassuring smile–who had been Mamu’s doctor for years, helping her manage her battle with Lupus.

“Assalamu alaikum,” Dr. Khatri greeted them warmly, and they responded in kind.

“How’s everything Maryam?” he asked Mamu, his familiarity with her and genuine care evident in the way he spoke.

Mamu smiled gently, “I’m hanging in there, Dr. Khatri.”

Dr. Khatri then turned his attention to Yaseerah and Bilal, still wearing that comforting smile. “And how are you two holding up? It must have been quite a scare.”