Just One Minute
1284 Words
The waiting room had fallen into a strained silence, the kind that screamed louder than words.
Daniel sat slouched in the corner, arms resting on his knees, blood on his shirt dried stiff. His eyes were hollow—focused on the floor, but his mind replayed Alif taking that bullet a thousand times.
The door pushed open.
Her friends arrived—faces pale, voices low. Their hearts broke at the sight of Sahir asleep on a chair beside the door… and Daniel—silent, broken, and still.
Sahir stirred. As his eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the dim hospital lights, they immediately locked on Daniel.
He stood up slowly, jaw clenched, emotions bubbling over.
And then—he snapped.
He stormed toward Daniel, grabbed him by the collar, yanking him to his feet.
“It’s all because of you!” he shouted, voice trembling with rage. “Because of you, she’s lying in there between life and death. If you had gone in with the team—if you had just told us everything—none of this would have happened!”
Daniel didn’t flinch. His eyes met Sahir’s… cold, yet defeated.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t explain.
He simply whispered,
“Now’s not the time… We’ll talk later.”
He gently pushed Sahir’s hands off and stepped back, turning his eyes again toward the closed ICU doors.
Sahir walked away, anger simmering, and demanded an update from the nurses.
⸻
Late That Night…
The hospital had gone still. Chairs were empty. The air was cold and humming with machines.
Sahir had drifted off in a corner, arms folded across his chest, still wearing his badge and jacket.
Daniel hadn’t moved.
He just sat there—awake, exhausted, haunted.
A nurse walking past slowed down when she saw him. His shirt still carried Alif’s blood, his hands fidgeted with nothing. Eyes red, lips tight.
She approached cautiously.
“Sir… you’ve been sitting here for hours. Maybe you should go home. Rest. We’ll let you know immediately if anything changes.”
Daniel shook his head slowly.
“I can’t leave. She’s in there… because of me.”
He paused.
“I can’t rest until I know she’s okay. Please… can I see her? Just once? Just for a minute.”
The nurse hesitated.
“It’s not allowed for visitors at this hour…”
But something in his voice—his quiet desperation—made her stop.
She looked into his eyes. Not the eyes of a criminal. Not a cold-blooded man. But a boy—broken, afraid, and in love.
She nodded softly.
“Just one minute. Don’t touch anything.”
The nurse pushed the door open with a soft creak and looked back.
“One minute,” she whispered.
Daniel stepped in. The sterile scent of antiseptic hit him instantly, mixed with something else — something metallic and cold. The smell of pain.
His footsteps were almost soundless, but inside him, a storm was raging.
There she was.
Alif.
Lying motionless in a white hospital bed. Pale skin, eyes shut tight as if lost in a dream that wouldn’t let her go. Her breathing was shallow, monitored by beeping machines and tubes that looked too cruel for someone like her.
A bullet.
One bullet — and this woman who stared danger in the face every day had been silenced.
Daniel’s eyes locked on the bandage at her stomach. The blood… was his fault. Every drop.
He moved closer, slowly. His heart pounding harder with each step.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring.
Then he whispered,
“You i***t… Why’d you jump in front of her?”
He chuckled, bitterly. But it wasn’t amusement. It was pain with nowhere to go.
“You don’t even like me. You barely trust me. But still… you did that.”
His voice cracked. He lowered himself to the chair beside her bed and took her hand — gently, almost scared that even his touch might hurt her.
“You should be yelling at me right now… giving me one of your long speeches about justice and rules and duty.”
“You’d probably roll your eyes and say ‘I’m not like you, Daniel.’”
He paused.
“But you are. Braver than me. Stronger than me. You’re everything I pretend to be.”
His grip tightened slightly around her fingers — fragile and cold.
“Just open your eyes… yell at me… anything. But don’t lie here like this.”
He looked at her face.
Her lashes were still, lips colorless, but her presence — her fire — still filled the room.
Daniel exhaled, trying to blink away the water in his eyes.
“I’ve destroyed a lot of things in my life. But this? You? I never wanted to be the reason you broke.”
The machines beeped steadily.
Daniel stood up slowly, leaned down, and gently pressed his forehead against her hand.
“Don’t make me wait too long… officer,” he whispered.
He turned to leave. But right as he reached the door, he heard it — the faintest shift in breath.
He turned back immediately, eyes wide.
But Alif remained still.
Still fighting. Still silent.
And Daniel… just stood there watching her, heart in his throat.
The corridor outside the ICU was quiet except for the faint hum of machines and footsteps echoing in the distance. Morning had arrived, but for Daniel, time hadn’t moved at all.
He was still there — same chair, same clothes, same sleepless eyes. Haunted and hollow.
Across from him, Sahir stirred awake, stretching his stiff neck and blinking against the morning light. As his vision cleared, his eyes landed on Daniel — unmoving, eyes fixed on the ICU doors like a man frozen in time.
Just then, the ICU door opened, and a nurse stepped out.
Sahir jumped to his feet.
“Any update?” he asked quickly.
The nurse nodded faintly.
“Vitals stable… but she hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”
Sahir exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. Just then, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Mira.
She came rushing in, clutching a small bag. Her eyes softened when she saw her brother.
Daniel didn’t look up.
Mira slowly approached him and gently took his hand in hers.
“Daniel… please,” she whispered. “I brought you some clothes. Go to your office. Freshen up. Change. Sleep a little…”
He didn’t respond.
Mira crouched beside him, voice softer now.
“You’ve been like this since yesterday. What if you fall sick? What if Alif wakes up and sees you like this? She needs you, but not like this.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
But this time… he listened.
He stood slowly, hesitantly, and gave one last glance to the ICU window before walking away with Mira.
The steam from the shower fogged the mirror. Water trickled down Daniel’s face, but it couldn’t wash away the ache in his chest.
He got dressed — a clean black shirt, rolled-up sleeves, neat slacks — but his eyes still held the same exhaustion, the same storm.
He stared at his reflection for a moment. His fingers clenched the edge of the sink.
“She better be okay,” he muttered under his breath.
⸻
Back to the ICU
An hour later, Daniel returned.
Still no news.
But Mira met his eyes as he walked in — and gave him a small nod, as if silently saying, Thank you for listening.
He took his seat again, this time calmer… but only slightly.
He didn’t need to speak.
He was waiting.
Watching.
Hoping.
That maybe… just maybe… today was the day she’d open her eyes.
- Writer
