Chapter 90 : Emergency.

The first slivers of dawn peeked through the window, painting the rattan blinds a soft gold. Aqil, already awake, stretched his back against the rough wooden slats of their bed. He turned to Nayla, her face serene in sleep, her belly a gentle mound beneath the worn cotton dress. A smile tugged at his lips. Seven and a half months, their little miracle growing stronger with each sunrise.

He tiptoed out of bed, careful not to disturb her slumber. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke. He knelt by the clay stove, coaxing embers to life with a gentle blow. Soon, a lick of flame danced among the kindling, casting flickering shadows on the mud walls.

Aqil rummaged through their meager pantry, pulling out a handful of rice and a small tin of sardines. Not much, but enough for a simple breakfast. 

Nayla stirred, her eyes fluttering open. A sleepy smile bloomed on her face as she saw him, the warmth of the stove fire chasing away the chill of the morning. "You're up early, dear." she murmured.

"Couldn't resist the smell of your favourite breakfast," Aqil teased. 

She laughed, a soft, tinkling sound like wind chimes. "You spoil me, Aqil."

He winked. "Just giving you and our little one the best start to the day."

Aqil set the rice to boil, the steam rising in a fragrant cloud and opened the sardine tin. He carefully arranged the sardines on a chipped enamel plate, adding a sprinkle of chopped onions and chilies from their tiny garden.

Nayla joined him at the table, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly. Aqil poured her a mug of warm water for her. 

While eating, Aqil looked at Nayla and felt a warmth bloom in his chest, "You look beautiful, Nayla."

Nayla blushed, "Don't be silly, Aqil. I'm just fat." 

Taking her hand in his, Aqil replied, "You're carrying our child, dear. The most beautiful burden in the world."

He kissed her hand, then her forehead, his touch light as a butterfly's wing. "Go take a shower, my love. I'll clean up."

Nayla nodded and rose. Her movements were slower now, the weight of the baby evident in her gait. She stepped into the bathroom. The floor was wet, she hadn't anticipated the treacherous slipperiness. 

 One moment she was humming a lullaby to their unborn child, the next, the world tilted with a sickening lurch. Her foot met a stray drop of soap, and the world tilted on its axis.

 Her ankle twisted with a sickening crack. Before she could even gasp, the floor rushed up to meet her. Her hands flailed for purchase, but they found only empty air.

Then Silence...

 A searing, icy pain ripped through her abdomen, centered on the precious cargo she carried beneath her ribs. It was a white-hot agony, unlike anything she'd ever known, stealing the breath from her lungs and the words from her throat.

"Aqil!" Nayla's voice ripped through the air. He froze, the mug clattering to the floor, his heart dropping like a stone in his chest. His heart hammered against his ribs as he raced towards the bathroom, his bare feet slapping against the rough earth. The sight that greeted him stole the air from his lungs. Nayla lay crumpled on the cold floor, her eyes wide with pain, her hand clutching her swollen belly.

"Nayla!" He scrambled toward her. Nayla looked up, her eyes wide and glassy with pain. "Aqil..." she gasped, her voice a broken whisper. "It hurts..."

The sight of her, pale and trembling, his child's home a battleground of pain, made the world tilt for Aqil. He knelt beside her, his touch feather-light on her arm. "Hold on, sayang," he murmured, forcing his voice into a semblance of calm. "Don't move, okay? I'm here." 

But stillness was the antithesis of what Nayla needed. Her body contorted with each new wave of pain. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Aqil's eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything, to explain this sudden descent into hell. His gaze landed on the treacherous soap, a tiny villain on the damp tiles.

"Aqil…" she rasped, her eyes wide with terror. "The… the baby… My stomach… it hurts so much."

"Don't worry, everything will be alright. I'm coming wait." Aqil told and went towards the room. 

But the terror in Nayla's eyes betrayed his lie. The searing pain in her womb spoke of something far more sinister than a simple fall. This was not a stumble on a wet floor; it was a mother's intuition screaming at her that her child was in peril.

Aqil's mind raced. Their village clinic was miles away, ill-equipped for emergencies like this. He called Alam, his neighbour who is a driver by profession. "Alam," he choked out, Alam's voice cracking. "Get to my house...fast! Nayla...something's wrong...the baby..."

The journey to the hospital was a blur of panicked prayers and agonizing whimpers. Aqil held Nayla's hand, a silent anchor in the storm that raged within her. Her pain radiated through him, each moan a knife twisting in his own gut. He kept talking, a frantic stream of reassurances and promises that he didn't know if he could keep.

Finally they reached the hospital. Aqil burst through the hospital doors, Nayla cradled tightly in his arms. He didn't pause to register the hushed whispers or wide eyes that followed their frantic arrival. All his attention was focused on Nayla, her blood staining his worn shirt a horrific crimson, "Help! My Wife....."

One nurse came towards them. She took one look at Nayla's blood-stained clothes and the tremor in Aqil's hands. "On this bed, quickly!" she barked, directing them towards a gurney....

....

Hours or perhaps an eternity later the doors of the operation room opened and a Dr. Lee who performed c-section on Nayla emerged.

Aqil asked with a fear in his voice, "Please, tell me… how are they?"

The doctor's gaze met his, "Your wife... she's gone through a successful C-section. Your son, though… he was born premature, very fragile. Both of them are very weak."

Aqil felt the room tilt. His son, too small, too soon. A guttural sob escaped his lips, raw and primal in the sterile silence. Dr. Lee placed a gentle hand on his arm, her voice firm yet kind. "He's fighting, Mr. Aqil. He's a small one, but he has your fighting spirit. But right now, he needs all the help we can give him. We'll be moving him to the NICU, the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit."

NICU , the word whispered in hushed tones. His mind flashed to stories he'd overheard about exorbitant bills, endless days of fear. And the money, the constant gnawing worry that had never quite left him even in their joy, now roared in his ears like a beast awakened.

"Can I see him?" Aqil choked out, the words rough sandpaper scraping against his parched throat.

Dr. Lee nodded. "Of course. Come with me." She guided him to a glass-walled room. And there was his son.

He was so small, his life clinging to tubes and wires. His skin, translucent and pink, stretched taut over fragile bones. A tiny hand, barely bigger than Aqil's thumb, twitched, clutching at the empty air. Tears blurred Aqil's vision, each ragged breath of the child a hammer blow against his heart.

Dr. Lee looked at him, "I'm sorry to say you this time but the baby needs specialized care, 24/7 monitoring. You know it's expensive. Your insurance…"

"Please, Dr. Lee," Aqil replied "Save them. I'll… I'll find a way to pay. Just save them."

.....

The book lay abandoned on the bed, its open pages staring back at Ava like mocking strangers. Two hours she'd spent staring at the same paragraph, the words blurring into an indecipherable haze. But Ava's mind was elsewhere, adrift in a tumultuous sea of memories. Every attempt to focus on the text was torpedoed by vivid flashbacks of last night – Ibrahim's hand, warm and firm, brushing against the delicate swell of her bosom.

Frustration built up within Ava as she closed the book with a frustrated sigh. She leaned back against the headrest of her bed. On the other hand, Tasha, who was playing with a sponge ball, noticed her distress and approached her, meowing softly. Ava managed a weak smile and reached out to pat Tasha's fur.

"Tasha," Ava sighed, "will I miss him this much every day he's gone?" And Tasha meowed softly in response. 

Ava shook her head in confusion. After spending five days together in Malacca, she hadn't expected to feel such a strong sense of his absence. She didn't think those five days would leave her with such a gaping hole in her heart, a hollowness that echoed with his name.

"No... I can't just lie in bed and let my thoughts overwhelm me," Ava murmured to herself. She rose from the bed and walked over to her wardrobe, selecting a fresh set of clothes. She needed to go outside, to meet with her best friend, Farah, and engage in some much-needed conversation. It's been days they last spoke.

After getting ready, Ava stepped out of her room, cradling Tasha in her arms. As she entered the dinning area, her gaze fell upon Yasmeen. 

"Yasmeen, could you please take care of Tasha for me?" Ava asked, "I'm going to meet my friends."

"Of course, ma'am. Yasmeen replied. 

Meanwhile, Samir, Ava's brother-in-law, who had been engrossed in reading the newspaper at the dining table, overheard their conversation. He knew that Farah was Ava's only close friend, and his curiosity got the better of him, "Where's my favorite sister-in-law off to?" 

Ava turned behind and saw Samir, who held the newspaper in his hands, "I'm going to Farah's flat, Samir."

Folding the newspaper, Samir told, "Let's go then. I'll drop you off."

Ava hesitated, about to decline his offer, but Samir insisted. "Your brother-in-law is at home, so there's no need to go with the driver. I'll gladly take you."