As soon as the call ended, Aizal closed her eyes. The city lights outside the car window blurred into streaks, as if every passing scene was dissolving into the unrest within her heart. Again and again, her mind drifted toward the worst possibilities, and each time, she forced herself to push those thoughts away.
The moment she stepped through the emergency entrance of the hospital, a strange coldness settled into her being. The harsh white lights, the hurried footsteps, and the sound of stretchers only deepened her anxiety. She moved forward quickly, yet her steps felt unbearably heavy.
Soon after, Musfira arrived with her parents. Seeing Aizal in that state, Musfira rushed forward and held her firmly.We're here… you're not alone…"
Her words carried both warmth and strength.
Musfira's father immediately went to speak with the doctor, while Aizal's eyes remained fixed on the emergency room door. Every passing second felt like an eternity.
After some time, when he returned from speaking with the doctor, the seriousness on his face said everything. In a low but clear voice, he said,
The injuries are very severe… and there has been a lot of blood loss. We are doing everything we can, but the next twelve hours are extremely critical… please pray."
Hearing this, the ground seemed to slip beneath Aizal's feet. She couldn't even make it to the nearby chair and sank onto the floor. Tears flowed uncontrollably, her breath tangled in her chest.
For the first time, she truly felt how helpless a human being can be. Her lips were silent, but her heart kept repeating one prayer—
there was only dua on her lips and firm faith in her heart that Allah would keep them safe.
A few moments after the doctor left, the door opened again. A doctor in a white coat stepped out and asked gently but seriously,
"Who among you is Aizal?"
Aizal immediately stood up, startled.
"Yes… I am Aizal. How are my parents? Can I see them?"
The doctor looked at her with sympathy.
"Your mother is not conscious yet… but your father wants to see you. Please try not to talk too much, it won't be good for him."
Aizal nodded quickly.
Yes… I will just see him."
She hurried toward the room where critical patients were kept—the ICU. With every step, her heart pounded harder, as if an unknown fear had gripped her completely.
When she entered the room and saw her father in that condition, her heart shattered.
Ameer Khan—the man who was always strong, dignified, and smiling—was now breathing with the support of machines.
Aizal slowly stepped closer and held his hand with trembling fingers. Tears fell uncontrollably onto his hand.
"Baba… nothing will happen to you… I'm sure… Allah will not leave us alone…
Ameer Khan opened his eyes with a faint, weak smile. His voice was low, but every word carried depth. As he looked at his daughter, tears slipped from his eyes. She was the same innocent Aizal… yet today, there was a different light on her face—a light of strength and faith.
A father's heart was breaking, yet at the same time, it felt a strange peace… because he knew his daughter was soft-hearted, but incredibly strong. And that strength would carry her through every trial.
Gently, Ameer Khan held her hand, as if trying to hold on to time itself.
Aizal… life does not always go according to our plans. Sometimes, Allah brings such turns where only trust in Him becomes your support…"
Aizal's eyes filled with tears, but she held herself together.
"Baba… I have faith in Allah…"
He looked at her deeply, then spoke softly,
"Because of that faith… today I want to tell you a secret… one I have kept hidden in my heart for years…"
Aizal's breath caught.
"A secret…?"
Ameer Khan pressed her hand weakly but firmly.
"After me… there is only one person in this world who can help you… who can protect you…"
Leaning slightly closer, he whispered a name into her ear.
The moment she heard that name, Aizal's eyes widened in shock. Her heart seemed to stop for a second.
Seeing the questions in her expression, Ameer Khan smiled faintly.
"You will understand everything when the time comes… just never let your faith in Allah and your prayers weaken."
Tears streamed down Aizal's face, but she nodded.
"I promise, Baba… my faith and my prayers will always stay strong."
Suddenly, the sound of the monitor became irregular.
A sharp, continuous beep echoed through the room.
Aizal looked at his hand in panic…
the same hand that had always given her strength now lay lifeless in hers.
"Ba… Baba…!"
A heartbreaking scream escaped her as she collapsed onto the floor.
It felt as if her soul was leaving her body.
At that moment, Musfira entered the room. Seeing Aizal like that broke her own heart, but she steadied herself, held her, and gently took her outside.
"Aizal… hold yourself together… you have to be strong for your mother…"
Those words struck her like lightning. She suddenly remembered her mother and rushed toward the ICU, stumbling yet driven by one cry in her heart—Mama…
Reaching the ICU door, she asked the doctor anxiously,
"Doctor… how is my mother? Has she regained consciousness? Can I see her?"
The doctor's face showed sorrow and seriousness. After a brief silence, he said softly,
"I am sorry, Miss Aizal… there was too much blood loss. We tried our best… but we couldn't save her.
I am sorry… your mother is no more."
Time stopped.
The ground slipped beneath her feet. Darkness filled her vision as she lost consciousness and collapsed into Musfira's arms.
Musfira herself was in shock. Tears filled her eyes, but she held her dearest friend tightly. In just a few hours, Aizal's entire world had shattered. The girl who was safe under her parents' love yesterday now stood completely alone.
A father is a wall of protection…
and a mother's love is a shade that has no substitute.
Today, Aizal had lost both.
But not everyone is tested…
Allah tests only those whom He wants to bring closer to Himself.
"And give good tidings to the patient—
those who, when disaster strikes them, say: Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return."
(Surah Al-Baqarah: 155–156)
This pain was immense…
but perhaps it was the very trial that would transform a fragile girl into someone extraordinarily strong.
Before the burial, Musfira's parents respectfully took care of all the arrangements for Aizal's parents' last rites. After everything, Musfira brought Aizal home with her. When Aizal regained consciousness, the realization broke her all over again—she had lost her only support in this world. Tears kept flowing silently, carrying the weight of her heart's pain.
As her parents' funeral left the house, an indescribable silence and grief filled the air. With every step, it felt as though her entire world was slipping away. In that moment, a verse of the Qur'an echoed in her heart:
"Indeed, we belong to Allah, and to Him we shall return."
These words pierced her heart, yet also taught her patience.
She remembered the promise she had made to her father—a promise that had now become the purpose of her life. His hopes, his prayers, his dreams… now lived through her.
Musfira fed her with her own hands and put her to sleep. After crying for a long time, Aizal finally drifted into sleep. But in the middle of the night, she suddenly woke up. A sharp pain throbbed in her head, and the weight of grief still pressed heavily on her heart. Yet she remembered her promise—the promise she could never break, no matter how hard life became. She had to keep her faith in Allah.
Musfira was asleep beside her, exhausted from everything. Looking at her, Aizal felt deep gratitude and love. True friendship is also a precious gift from Allah.
"A person is upon the religion of his close friend, so let one of you look at whom he befriends."
Aizal slowly closed her eyes, strengthened her trust in Allah, and once again repeated her promise.
At midnight Aizal stood by the window. The torment of the past twenty-four hours and the loss of her parents had shattered her from within. With her eyes closed, she was only recalling those moments she had spent laughing happily with Mama and Baba. She couldn't believe that all of this was real. Just yesterday, they had been celebrating her father's birthday… the house had been filled with laughter. Everything felt like a dream.
But when her eyes opened, everything was gone.
This was not a dream… it was the bitterest and most painful reality of her life.
Aizal felt her heart fill, but she steadied herself. No… she could not break down. She had to fulfill the promise she had made to her father. She had to have faith in her Lord. She had to be strong, even if her heart shattered a thousand times.
Suddenly, a name surfaced in her heart.
Startled, she straightened and immediately began searching for her phone. Then she remembered that she had put it in her bag while going to the hospital, and after that, she had lost all sense of awareness.
She hurried to her bag, opened the zip, and took out her phone. Her hands trembled slightly. She dialed the number at once.
The call was going through…
But no one answered.
"Mustafa… please pick up… I really need you…"
The whisper escaped her lips involuntarily.
Mustafa Imam…
Aimen's cousin—Aizal and Musfira's classmate.
In the final year of FSc, one day Aizal had heard a heart-touching recitation of the Qur'an coming from the university auditorium. There was such depth in the voice that she had been drawn toward it involuntarily. When she entered the auditorium, a young man was reciting Surah Ar-Rahman with profound humility.
It was Mustafa Imam.
His voice echoed through the vast auditorium of Quaid-e-Azam University in Islamabad, filling the entire atmosphere with spiritual serenity. Every word felt as if it was settling into the heart—
*"Then which of the favors of your Lord will you deny?"*
That was the first time Aizal had seen him… and his seriousness, modesty, and dignity had left an unspoken impression on her heart.
But now…
The call was still ringing.
And there was still no answer.
Even after nearly half an hour of calling continuously, Mustafa did not pick up. At first, the phone just kept ringing, then suddenly it started going switched off.
Aizal looked helplessly at her phone. A strange emptiness began to settle within her heart.
She remembered the day when, after the recitation in the auditorium, she had asked Aimen who he was. Aimen had smiled and said,
"This is my cousin Mustafa… he's come from Lahore. He wants to become a scholar. He lives in the portion next to our house on rent, but despite Abba insisting a lot, he didn't stay with us… he says self-respect is better."
Aimen's words had surprised Aizal. In today's time, such self-respect and religiosity were rarely seen. Mustafa's modesty, his habit of walking with lowered gaze, and his connection with faith had unknowingly left an impression on her heart. She herself was a woman of character and modesty, but this was the first time someone's seriousness and faith had affected her so deeply.
Then, at Aimen's brother's wedding, when she and Musfira attended, she met Mustafa again. His decency, simplicity, and dignity deepened her respect for him. Gradually, they crossed paths a few times at the university… and then that silent admiration took the form of words.
But in Mustafa's family, marrying outside the family was not customary. It was a highly religious and conservative household. Aizal herself was dignified and modest, but she feared whether her parents would agree. Mustafa had reassured her that he would speak to his parents, but for now, both of them had to fulfill their dreams.
Then Aizal received a scholarship to Turkey… and Mustafa returned to Lahore. There, he began studying Islamic sciences, Tafsir, and Fiqh at a well-known religious institution and university, learning the depth of religious knowledge under the supervision of eminent scholars so that he could become an authentic scholar.
Time passed. Both became busy in achieving their dreams. They spoke occasionally, but the distance between them grew.
Today, after so long, Aizal was calling him… she wanted to tell him what devastation had befallen her. But he wasn't picking up the phone… and now it was switched off.
All kinds of fears began to arise in her heart.
Had Mustafa's parents agreed?
Or… had he given up?
Aizal immediately shook off the thought.
"No… Mustafa cannot do that."
Lost in these thoughts, suddenly her bag slipped from her hand and fell to the ground. All her belongings scattered across the floor. Startled, she hurriedly began gathering them when her eyes suddenly fell on a contact card inside the bag.
She froze.
For a few moments, she stared at it… as if something from the past was emerging from the depths of her memory.
Then, suddenly deciding something, she picked up the card… and dialed the number written on it.
On the other side, Zaheer and Salar were supposed to leave for America on today's flight. Preparations for departure were underway at home. They were to leave for the airport shortly.
Salar quickly walked toward Zaheer's room to tell him to hurry up. He opened the door, but the room was empty. He assumed Zaheer must be in the washroom.
Salar stood there, waiting for him, absentmindedly looking at his phone.
Suddenly, the phone lying on Zaheer's bed began to ring.
The first time, he ignored it.
But when it rang again, he instinctively picked it up.
"Zaheer… hurry up, we need to leave for the airport—"
As soon as he brought the phone to his ear to say this, a feminine voice came from the other side.
"Hello…?"
Salar froze for a moment.
That voice… it felt strangely familiar.
It was a girl calling Zaheer's phone. At first, Salar was surprised, but as soon as the voice spoke again—
"Hello… Dr. Zaheer? This is Aizal speaking…"
Salar's expression stiffened.
Aizal…
How could he forget that name?
The same name that had been circling his mind involuntarily for the past two days.
Forcing himself under the weight of his ego, he composed himself. Keeping his voice somewhat cold, he said,
"Yes… which Aizal?"
The voice from the other side replied hurriedly,
"We met at the bookshop just yesterday… then there was that accident… I was the one who helped you and your friend and took you both to the hospital. I need an urgent favor from you."
A slight hardness appeared on Salar's face. He did not like that the girl who hadn't even deemed it worthy to look at him was now calling Zaheer and asking for help. Still, he did not reveal his identity.
"What kind of help?" he asked seriously, pretending to be Zaheer.
Aizal said anxiously,
"I'll send you a number… his name is Mustafa. Please convey my message to him to call me… I really need him."
On the other side, Salar stood silent, while Aizal continued speaking, thinking he was Zaheer. There was helplessness in her voice.
"Why don't you contact Mustafa yourself?" Salar asked in a slightly stern tone.
On the other side, Aizal closed her eyes for a few moments, as if this question made the burden on her heart even heavier. Then she spoke softly,
"I did… again and again… but he isn't answering my calls."
Hearing this, Salar felt another jolt. Strange thoughts arose in his mind— for a moment, he assumed that perhaps this girl was directionless and confused. In a slightly sarcastic tone, he said,
"If he's not answering your call, why would he answer mine? He doesn't even know me."
This time Aizal's voice broke more than before.
"He… he doesn't want to talk to me. He remembers my number… that's why he isn't answering. But if you call him and tell him about me… he will definitely call me. Please…"
Salar remained silent for a few moments, as if he had run out of words. The helplessness on the other side was reaching him, but his pride was not allowing him to soften.
The next moment, the call suddenly disconnected… and Salar stood there holding the phone, caught between confusion and surprise.
A few moments later, a message tone sounded.
A number flashed on the screen.
At that very moment, Zaheer came out of the washroom.
"Come on, man, we're leaving in five minutes… we have to reach the airport…"
Then his gaze fell on his phone in Salar's hand and the faint smile forming on his lips.
"Was it someone's call?"
But instead of answering, Salar silently removed the SIM from Zaheer's phone and inserted it into his own.
Zaheer stared at him, eyes wide.
"What are you doing, Salar? Why are you taking out my SIM?"
A mysterious smile appeared on Salar's lips.
"It's nothing… you'll get a new SIM right away."
"But why do you need my SIM?"
Salar replied lightly,
"For some adventure…"
Zaheer held his head.
"You and your adventures…"
Then he quickly said,
"Come on! The flight is in half an hour."
Salar looked at him for a moment, then said calmly,
"I don't think… we're going today."
Zaheer was startled.
"What?!"
"Anyway… my mood has changed."
Saying this, Salar calmly walked out.
Zaheer stood there, watching him leave.
The same Salar who wouldn't accompany him even for a one-day seminar…
That same Salar was now staying in Pakistan for another day.
Zaheer simply shook his head.
He knew—
No one could stand against Salar's decisions.
It was just an adventure for Salar…
Unaware that on the other side, a girl was going through a devastating storm.
Salar did not know that this was not a mere adventure, but something that would bring such a storm into his own life that it would change his peace, his pride, and all his decisions forever.