NEHA
Maybe Ilyas thought I was dumb. Maybe he was aware that I knew something was wrong, and fishy about his behavior. He wasn’t himself all throughout the time Mehru was in the ICU.
I decided to not let that bother me. At least not for now.
It had been over three hours since we sat in the hospital chairs, worry etched on our faces and occasional tears making a display. I wanted to comfort Ilyas, whisper soothing words to him, but how could I do it when he didn’t even look at me once in between the hours of silence.
He kept tapping his foot against the tiles, arms crossed over, eyes darker than the colour of coals. The greens almost just vanished, replaced with an emotion I would guess: guilt and grief.
It hurt me like a thousand needles to see him like this. To see my husband so we
