She Is My Hayaat

Chapter 48: What Ever Happened To Happily Ever After? Part 2

Hello and Salaam everyone. I just wanted to clear something and inform you all before we start this chapter and continue to the end of the story. I think I speak on behalf of all dedicated and original writers when I say that it takes a lot of time with precise execution and critical analysis to come up with an engrossing plot (at least we hope it's engrossing). We as writers, always want to deliver a solid storyline so that our readers can engage with all aspects of the story from the characters, no matter how major or minor, to the finer details. 

Thank you to everyone who has been leaving comments and messages. Honestly, I'm so overwhelmed by the response I am getting from everyone, and I truly appreciate it. The best thing is when readers tell us that they've connected with our story and characters as they have felt all the emotions that we've wholeheartedly tried to portray with our utmost ability. So, I'm truly honored! However, please understand that I have plans for this story, and the whole plot had been planned out way before I published my first chapter to the core and details. No matter what happens, I need everyone to have faith in hayatiofparadise! (: The plot of this story will not change no matter what, and after nearly the whole book, I'd like to think that everyone will respect that and my plans for this story... yes, even the ending! You all have to be just a little more patient and see what happens. 

Hold on tight everyone. :') 

Please vote and comment! I'm in love with all your comments. (:

Thank you and enjoy!

The faint ticking of the bigger hand on the large glass and metallic cut clock interrupted the sounds of our laborious breaths as some were trying to regain their composure and others were running against time itself. The act of explaining everything to Bhaiya had been strenuous, but it was relieving to take breaks in between as he'd finished the sentences himself. I didn't have to say much as he had already been in contact with Jamilah and the head doctors and staff of the hospital including some of his health care colleagues from all over the country in the past 15 hours.

Izhar had called him during Fajr, pleading him to help in some way since he had the medical expertise and was the only person who could make me see sense. Bhaiya and I both knew that this was it, but neither of us had the courage to push Izhar anymore than I already had. 

We sat in the luxurious sofas placed in the living room, watching the Boston harbor sail away with all the misery one could ever imagine. My legs were bent beneath me, my white dupatta wrapped around my whole body and tucked under my legs as I'd rested my heavy head on Bhaiya's cut shoulder and stared at Boston's skyline with empty and invisibly weeping eyes. My arms were covered by the dupatta as well, while securely wrapped around my swollen stomach.

Bhaiya sat right next to me with the sleeves of his dark green shirt now precisely rolled up to his elbows that rested on his knees as he'd leaned forward with both hands clasped together and against his forehead. His eyes had been pinched closed while he thought and spoke aloud about the endless possibilities and treatments that were no option for me with the current state I was in. He'd raved his long and deft fingers through his hair and short beard multiple of times as he had walked around the living room in a stressful manner before he finally sat down. 

Izhar stood next to the large bay window wall across from us, his sculpted back faced towards us. He pondered the views outside of this upending cage. His arms had been crossed as he'd silently listened to Bhaiya, his forearms tight with anger and denial.