Match Made in jannah | (jannah series #1)

CHAPTER 34: NEW YEAR

ABUJA, NIGERIA.

In the quiet corridors of Ayman's soul, the passage of seven months had etched profound scars, marking the ceaseless journey of agony that unfolded within him. The once vibrant hues of hope had dulled, replaced by a persistent ache that mirrored the relentless ticking of the clock.

Grief, an uninvited companion, settled into the crevices of Ayman's heart, each day a testament to the endurance of pain. The hospital room, once a sanctuary of shared dreams, stood as a silent witness to the unraveling tapestry of Ayman's emotions—a symphony of sorrow playing in the hallowed space where whispered confessions had once danced.

The weight of unspoken words bore down on Ayman's shoulders, a heavy burden that manifested in the furrows etched upon his forehead. Maha's comatose state had become a silent specter, haunting Ayman's every waking moment and infiltrating the sacred spaces of his dreams. The room, adorned with medical apparatus and the sterile scent of antiseptic, mirrored the clinical detachment that veiled Ayman's desperate longing.

Each day dawned as a weary pilgrimage through the corridors of uncertainty, Ayman's footsteps echoing the silent plea for a miracle that remained elusive. The hum of machines, a constant background melody, served as a dissonant reminder of the fragility of life—a reminder that reverberated within Ayman's chest with every breath.

The routine of care—checking vital signs, adjusting pillows, and holding Maha's hand—became a ritual of love entangled with the thorns of helplessness. The healing wounds on Maha's body, though testament to the resiliency of the human spirit, bore witness to the protracted battle between life and the void that sought to claim her.

As days blended into nights, Ayman found himself ensnared in a labyrinth of memories, his mind a canvas painted with the echoes of shared laughter and the silhouette of a love that had been suspended in the stillness of a comatose existence. Sleep became an elusive companion, as dreams transformed into fractured landscapes where reality and yearning intertwined.

The world outside the hospital room continued its relentless march, yet Ayman remained ensconced in the suspended animation of his own grief. The family's attempts at solace echoed as distant murmurs, drowned out by the cacophony of Ayman's internal monologue—a narrative woven with threads of remorse, longing, and the persistent refrain of hope.

In the hushed hours of the night, Ayman would sit by Maha's side, his gaze fixed upon her face as though seeking answers within the labyrinth of her dreams. The silence of the room served as a backdrop to Ayman's internal dialogue—a dialogue laden with the weight of unspoken confessions, aching regrets, and a love that refused to be extinguished.

The world moved forward, indifferent to Ayman's solitary vigil. Each moment held the weight of a thousand unfulfilled promises, a testament to the cruel march of time that rendered the hospital room a timeless enclave where hope and despair performed a delicate ballet.

Yet, amidst the poignant tapestry of Ayman's agony, there remained a flicker of resilience—a silent affirmation that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, love endured. Ayman, though battered by the tempest of emotions, clung to the slender thread of hope, tethering his heart to the belief that one day, Maha would awaken, and their shared dreams would once again breathe life into the room that had become a testament to enduring love.

Even amidst the trauma of the past year, Ayman clung to hope. As he stepped into the familiar hospital room, he carried the weight of twelve arduous months filled with heartache, longing, and a persistent ache for the woman who lay in a comatose slumber. The air in the room seemed charged with a quiet tension, a testament to the emotional storm that raged within Ayman.