Match Made in jannah | (jannah series #1)

CHAPTER 32: I'LL STAY

ABUJA, NIGERIA.

As Ayman rushed to the hospital, his heart pounded with a frantic urgency. The ambulance had just come to a halt, its red and white lights casting an eerie glow on the night. He sprinted towards the emergency entrance, his breath catching in his throat.

As he reached the stretcher, a chilling sight unfolded before him. Maha lay there, a delicate figure amidst the sterile surroundings. Her face, usually radiant, was now pale and etched with pain. The medical team worked swiftly around her, their movements choreographed in a desperate dance against time.

Ayman's eyes locked onto hers, seeking reassurance in the midst of chaos. The bandages wrapped around her, stained with the evidence of her struggle, spoke of a silent battle she had fought. His gaze traced the lines of vulnerability etched on her features, a stark contrast to the vibrant woman he knew.

The harsh fluorescent lights above flickered, casting intermittent shadows on the scene. Ayman's hands trembled as he reached out, aching to touch her, to bridge the distance that now felt insurmountable. The beeping of machines and hushed conversations of medical staff formed a dissonant backdrop to his racing thoughts.

In that surreal moment, Ayman felt the weight of his powerlessness. The woman he loved lay before him, battered and bruised, and he could do nothing but bear witness to her pain. As the medical team continued their urgent efforts, he clung to the hope that the hospital's embrace would be the sanctuary where Maha's journey to healing could begin.

As Maha was rushed into the emergency room, Ayman's world seemed to spiral into a vortex of haunting echoes from the past. His steps faltered, the sterile hospital walls closing in around him. The frantic pace of the medical team became a dissonant melody, each hurried step a painful reminder of a familiar fear.

His chest tightened with a visceral ache as he recalled the haunting memory of losing Aisha. The vivid images of that fateful day clashed with the unfolding drama before him. The beeping monitors and urgent footsteps resonated with the ghostly echoes of a grief he thought he had left behind.

Ayman's breath caught in his throat, a silent plea escaping his lips. The weight of déjà vu bore down on him, threatening to consume him whole. Fear gripped his heart, tendrils of despair intertwining with the fragile threads of hope that clung to Maha's frail form.

His eyes, wide with a mixture of dread and desperation, remained fixed on the doorway through which Maha had disappeared. The passage of time became an agonizing blur, each second an eternity that held the fragile balance between loss and redemption.

In that harrowing moment, Ayman grappled with the haunting possibility of history repeating itself. The sterile hospital air carried the scent of anxiety, and he felt the cold tendrils of fear encircle him. As he stood in the sterile corridor, the juxtaposition of memories and present reality blurred into a disorienting panorama of heartache.

The weight of Aisha's loss bore down on Ayman's shoulders, a heavy cloak of sorrow that threatened to engulf him. His hands clenched into fists, fingers trembling with the desperate need to hold onto the fleeting hope that Maha's journey would not echo the tragic echoes of the past.

His hands shook uncontrollably as he brought his phone out of his pocket, he looked disheveled and disorganized in just a matter of few minutes. He felt hurt, how could fate be so cruel? Why would fate always snatch his love from him? Is he never meant to find love?

He had lost Aisha on their wedding day and today when he wanted to confess his love for Maha, he might also lose her. Maybe he should just let her go if she manages to survive this, maybe it's his fault and he is the bad luck. The sight of her battered body and the wounds all over her body was a gruesome sight for him.