Faqair returned to Inaya's bedside with slow, thoughtful steps, lowering himself onto the stool beside her. A faint smile tugged at his lips—gentle, polite—but there was a tension in his eyes that betrayed him, a shadow he could not shake. Inaya noticed it immediately.
The silence between them stretched, filled with unspoken words, until she finally broke it.
"Is something wrong, Faqair?"
He blinked once, almost startled.
"Nothing. Why?"
Inaya tilted her head.
"I don't know… you suddenly changed when you saw Danish."
Faqair exhaled softly, a quiet sound that was not quite a sigh.
"Oh, that? I just don't like him."
"Why? Meher told me you were friends before."
"Yeah, but…" he paused, weighing his words carefully.
"Sometimes the timing is wrong… and sometimes the people."
"Huh?"
He let out a short, awkward laugh—forced, too sharp.
"Don't worry, it's nothing. How's the food?"
"It's great, but I don't feel like eating. Good food tastes different in places like this."
"Still, you should eat well. If you want to get discharged soon, you need to take care of yourself."
Just then, her phone buzzed loudly on the side table. Inaya held the spoon in one hand and the bowl of food in the other, pausing mid-bite. She glanced at Faqair and raised her eyebrows, subtly gesturing toward the phone.
"Can you pick that up and put it on speaker?" she asked with a small smile.
"Yeah, sure."
He checked the screen.
"It's Miss Meher."
Faqair picked up the phone and placed it on speaker between them.
On Call
Inaya: "So, got free?"
Meher: "Yes. Did your lunch arrive?"
Inaya: "Yes. Danish just left after giving it to me."
Meher: "He left? I told him to stay until you finished!"
Inaya shrugged, giving a small, guilty laugh.
"Yeah, he said he had some work. And Faqair came too, so he went."
Meher: "Strange… when I asked him earlier, he said he was free."
Faqair stared ahead, pretending to be invisible.
Inaya laughed lightly.
"Maybe something came up suddenly. Anyway—you sound tired."
Meher: "Yeah, a bit."
Inaya: "Because of that hacker?"
Meher: "Yes. It's still not solved. The professional team didn't even come—they just made excuses. I'm definitely filing a complaint."
Inaya: "You should. Looks like your father will scold you again."
Meher: "Probably. I'm used to it. Still… I worked so hard today. If he scolds me now, I might feel a little sad."
Faqair's face softened. Something heavy pressed inside him—a question he couldn't shake:
"Are we doing the right thing?"
Before the thought could deepen, Inaya suddenly erupted dramatically:
"I pray that hacker starves to death! May his car break down at the most important moment with no one to help him!"
"May he suffer the worst hairfall of his life! And may his favourite chips always be sold out no matter which shop he goes to!"Faqair choked instantly, coughing so hard his eyes watered. Inaya worried,hastily she put the spoon back into the bowl and offered Faqair a water bottle.
"Here, drink this," she said, nudging the bottle toward him.
Even as he drank, his other hand lifted to his hair. Touching. Checking. Panicking.
"Even if I wasn't the one hacking… I was there too. Does this imply to me too?" he thought to himself.His heartbeat faltered.
Meher: "Faqair?"
Faqair: "Yes?"
Meher: "You okay?"
Faqair: "Yeah… just a little cough."
Meher: "You're acting like she was cursing you."
Faqair: (too fast) "No, no! Nothing like that."
Meher: "Relax. Can you stay with her until she finishes eating?"
Faqair: "Of course. She's almost done anyway."
Meher: "Thank you. I'll hang up now—the professional team finally arrived."
Faqair: "Okay. Bye."
He ended the call, still quietly touching his hair.
After the Call
Inaya exhaled softly.
"She acts like a mother… she matured soon."
"Yeah," Faqair murmured, "she is too mature for her age."
"Maturity isn't defined by age but by pain," Inaya said gently.
"It's sad, you know. Her whole childhood—and even now—she's alone in her family. And the person she loved the most, Aaira aapi… she's missing."
Faqair had no words. He just stared at the floor, lost in thoughts darker than hers—thoughts he couldn't share. Guilt pulled at him like a quiet tide.
To be continued.....