I can feel Your heartbeat

chapter 6

The dim light of dawn barely filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow that bathed the hospital room in gentle waves. Amina woke up with a jolt, taking a few moments to orient herself. Her gaze wandered from one corner to another, finally settling on the chair beside her bed. She breathed a sigh of relief seeing Imran there—sleeping peacefully despite the chair's awkward angle. This had become her new routine: waking up to the comforting sight of his familiar face.

The room was quiet, punctuated only by the soft beeping of the monitor and the occasional rustle of sheets as Amina shifted in discomfort. The silhouette of the chair where Imran slept was just a dark outline against the faint morning light, his form slumped in a way that spoke more of exhaustion than comfort. His breathing was even, but each exhale seemed heavy with tiredness.

Amina let her gaze softly caress his face, absorbing each detail with gentle appreciation. His high forehead, now marked with lines of fatigue, and his sharp, expressive eyebrows relaxed in sleep. His straight and well defined nose, casting a slight shadow in the dim light. His lips, usually set in a firm line, were slightly parted, hinting at his deep exhaustion.

Her eyes then followed the curve of his strong jawline, softened by a gentle shadow of dark stubble. This rugged touch added a certain charm and told the story of countless nights spent by her side, sacrificing his own rest. His hair, normally neat and orderly, now tumbled loosely over his forehead, a clear sign of the long hours he had endured watching over her. Overall, he appeared like a lost angel—so pure, so serene, and so distinctly hers.

A silent prayer of appreciation left her heart, thanking Allah for the great mercy bestowed upon her in the form of this man—the best she could ever dream of. Her heart knew in that moment that she was incredibly lucky to have found him first.

Her hands moved of their own accord, closing the gap between them, stopping just inches from his cheek before retreating to her side. Amina noticed how Imran had maintained a distance since she had woken up; he barely spoke, and though she didn't complain—his presence alone was soothing—a bit more interaction might help her understand the dynamics of their relationship better.

She kept admiring his face for what felt like an eternity, lost in thoughts, until the harsh rays of the sun pierced through the room, rousing him from his sleep. She found him stirring in his chair and decided to fake sleep. She instantly laid down and closed her eyes, trying to breathe as evenly as she could.

Imran stirred in his chair, his body aching from another night spent in an awkward position. He opened his eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep, and glanced around the room. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling the stiffness in his muscles ease slightly with the movement. Carefully, Imran stood up, his joints protesting softly. He walked over to Amina's side, his footsteps quiet on the cool floor.

Leaning over, he reached out to check on her, his hand hovering just above her forehead. He noticed the slight tremor that ran through her as he neared, a shiver of awareness that betrayed her feigned sleep. His eyes softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Imran paused, his hand still in the air, then slowly pulled it back, respecting her pretense of sleep.

Turning away to give her space, Imran busied himself with small tasks around the room, preparing it for the day ahead while allowing Amina the comfort of her quiet wakefulness. His smile lingered, touched by her vulnerability and the unspoken understanding that flowed silently between them. Amina finally breathed on hearing the shutting of the bathroom door. She peeked from her blanket around to see any sign of his, but to her advantage he was in the bathroom. Her eyes than gently followed the blanket she was holding her palms, which was not there on her earlier. On realising the act of her husband a red blush formed on her cheeks.