The phone rang, each tone dragging on like an eternity, before his voice, steady but drained, broke through.
"Jadwa?"
That single word shattered her. A sob burst from her lips, jagged and raw, as she gasped for air. Her voice was unrecognizable, trembling and fractured.
"I... I don't know... Ya Imran, I can't—" The words dissolved, tangled in a flood of tears. Her breaths came in harsh, uneven gasps, each one scraping painfully at her throat.
"My baby," his voice was soft yet firm, cutting through the chaos. "Can you just breathe for me? I'm here. I'm right here. Take it slow... just breathe with me."
His voice was a tether, a steady rhythm in the whirlwind of her panic. She clung to the phone, her grip white-knuckled, but with every deep inhale, guided by his calm cadence, her hold loosened. The crushing weight on her chest began to lift, each breath smoothing the jagged edges of her grief.
Minutes felt like hours before she whispered, "I didn't realize... how long I'd been like this." The realization hit her like a wave, exhaustion settling into her bones. But his voice planted a fragile seed of calm amidst the wreckage.
"Jadwa," Imran said gently, "what do we do when someone dies as Muslims?"
Her breath caught. He must have seen the message in the family group chat; she'd noticed the same notification seconds before calling him.
"Mm?" he prompted again, his voice patient, urging her to focus.
"We make du'a," she managed, though her voice broke over the words.
"Exactly," he said, his tone steady. "We thank Allah, pray for the deceased, and have sabr. Allah gave us both of them, and He took one. He knows best. He could have taken the other too—or you, or me, or anyone. This loss could be the very reason the parents enter Jannah. So, we pray for them. We pray he becomes their vessel to Jannah."
She nodded instinctively, though he couldn't see her. "Tohm," she murmured faintly, her grief momentarily soothed by his clarity.
The line went quiet for a moment, the silence heavy but comforting. Then he asked, "What are you doing now?"
"I'm just sitting," she said quietly, her voice steadier but still fragile.
"Your room?" he pressed gently, then added, "You should go to our room now, baby."
She hummed in agreement, her limbs feeling heavy as she pushed herself up. "Okay," she whispered. "Have you spoken to Sadiq?"
"Yes, I spoke with him and Fatima before you called," he replied.
"I wanted to go there now," she admitted, guilt twisting in her chest.
Imran's sigh was soft but firm. "If I were around, we would have gone, baby. But it's late, and you can't drive right now."
She didn't argue, the weight of his words grounding her.
"Will you be okay if I hold the call for a minute?" he asked.
"Of course, babe. Go ahead," she said, her heart steadying further with his reassurance.
While the call was on hold, she splashed cold water on her face, the icy shock stinging her cheeks but clearing her head. A glass of lemon water soothed her dry throat before she settled back on the bed.
"Jadwa," his voice returned, warm and grounding.
"Na'am, albi?"
"Ibrahim will be dropping off Lily in a bit to stay with you until I'm back," he said gently but firmly.
