Something in the first Snow..

Chapter 2 : Hijab, Hospital and Hints of Chaos.

18th March, 2021

Kinza looked up when she heard footsteps approaching. She was seated outside the operation theatre on the hard plastic chairs in the corridor, wringing her hands and silently praying for the unknown man's safety.

As the footsteps grew louder, she saw her parents rushing toward her. She stood up instantly, walking straight into her mother’s arms like a child who had been holding in her tears too long.

“I was so scared,” Kinza whispered, eyes shut tight.

“But you showed immense courage. I’m proud of you, Baba ki jaan,” her father said, gently stroking her head. Kinza looked up at him and gave a tight-lipped, weary smile.

“I didn’t know what else to do… I’m sorry for worrying you both,” she said softly.

“You went out with Shahmeer, so how did you end up returning alone in a cab?” her mother asked, her brows knitting together in a familiar blend of concern and curiosity. At the mention of Shahmeer, Kinza stiffened, the memories of the night flooding back all at once—sharp, confusing, and unsettling.

"I… uh… I..." she stammered.

“What is it, Kinza?” her mother prodded gently but firmly.

“I’ll tell you everything. But can we please go home first?” she asked, glancing at her father, who nodded in understanding.

“Alright, let’s head home. It’s already so late,” he agreed.

“What’s going on, Kinza?” her mother pressed again as they walked.

“I’ll explain everything, I promise. Just not here,” Kinza replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her mother gave her a look that said This conversation is far from over, but let it slide for now.

They were just about to step out of the hospital when Kinza paused. “Maa, you both go ahead. I just need to return this guy’s stuff real quick. I’ll catch up.”

She turned and walked back to the reception desk.

“Hey, hi!” she greeted the receptionist, trying to sound casual. “These belong to the patient currently undergoing surgery. His coat, cellphone, and, um… his ring.”

The receptionist looked up and blinked. “But… isn’t he your husband, ma’am?”

Kinza froze. Her brain screamed, Excuse me?! but her mouth said, “That… it’s… well…” She fumbled.

“Any issue, ma’am?” the receptionist asked, mildly confused but still polite.

Snapping out of her internal spiral, Kinza shook her head with a small, awkward smile. “No, no problem.” She scooped the items back up and bolted before she dug herself any deeper into the grave she’d accidentally jumped into.

Outside, her parents were waiting.

“Why’d you bring all his stuff back with you? Weren’t you going to return it?” her mother asked, eyeing the bag.

“I did, but since I had…” Kinza hesitated, staring at the ground like it had all the answers.

“You had what, Kinza?” her father asked, voice calm but curious.

“I swear I didn’t mean to—but I had no other option.”

“Kinza.” Her father’s tone was still patient, but she knew he wanted the truth.

“The doctors refused to operate without consent from family, and his condition was deteriorating fast. I didn’t know how to reach his family… so… I signed the documents. As his wife.” Her voice trembled slightly. “It was the only way they would agree to the surgery.”