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It had been a whole week since the accident, since that terrifying moment when Dee's body betrayed her, leaving her vulnerable and fragile in the sterile hospital room. Rayyan had barely left her side during these days—his worry etched into every crease of his brow, his hands constantly ready to steady her, to catch her if she faltered. The nights were the hardest, with Dee restless and Rayyan pacing, listening for her breath, afraid to close his eyes.
Saturday morning brought a thin slice of relief. Ayat wasn't visiting today—she had to oversee the underground racing track in Dee's absence, managing the chaos that always seemed to follow her sister. Dee wanted to help, to be part of that fiery world once again, but Rayyan's protective eyes quickly shut down any such ideas.
Now, as the early sunlight sifted through the blinds, casting striped shadows over the white hospital sheets, a nurse came in quietly. Her presence was calm but firm—a small reminder of the clinical world surrounding Dee's recovery.
"Sir," she said softly but clearly, "We need to take the patient for some physical therapy. She's been lying down for many days. It's important for her bones and muscles to move, to regain strength."
Rayyan nodded, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. He stepped closer, brushing a stray lock of hair off Dee's forehead as the nurse helped her sit up.
"I can walk on my own," Dee insisted, her voice stubborn, refusing to surrender to weakness.
Slowly, carefully, she rose. A few wobbly steps, and she steadied herself against the wall. "See? Not that hard." There was a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "I'm tired of lying in bed. When will you guys finally discharge me?"
The nurse gave a gentle smile, but her voice was professional, devoid of false hope. "Maybe after your test results come in and your wounds heal more."
Dee's lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing. She wanted to believe she could leave this place, go back to normal. To life.
The therapy room was a bright space filled with equipment—parallel bars, treadmills, weights—but it felt cold and impersonal. The nurse pointed toward a door marked "Women's Section" and said, "Sir, please wait here."
Rayyan stepped aside, his heart heavy with worry. He watched Dee disappear through the door, her frame slight and fragile as she moved.
An hour passed. When the nurse returned to bring Dee back, Rayyan's eyes searched her face. Exhaustion was written clearly across Dee's pale cheeks, her shoulders sagging as if the effort had drained every ounce of energy.
"I want to sit for a moment," Dee murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
"Okay," Rayyan said, gently guiding her to a bench in the waiting area.
But Dee's gaze was fixed beyond the window, on the hospital garden—a small patch of green, a promise of freedom, sunshine, life beyond sterile walls.
"Not here. I want to go outside," she said quietly, almost pleading.
Rayyan's chest tightened. "Are you sure? It's a long walk."
"I can do it."
Rayyan hesitated but tried to mask his fear. "How about the wheelchair? Just for today?"
Dee shot him a sharp look. "No. I hate wheelchairs. I'm not paralyzed."
"But you're not well—"
"I said no."
Rayyan's lips pressed into a thin line. He hated arguing with her, especially when she was fragile like this. "Fine. But if you collapse, don't blame me."
Dee started walking toward the elevator, each step measured, determined.
Rayyan followed silently, his gaze flicking to her legs, noticing the faint tremble beneath the thin hospital gown.
The elevator doors slid shut.
Rayyan pressed the button for the ground floor.
Halfway down, Dee's legs betrayed her.
A wave of weakness hit like a tidal surge, and she blinked rapidly, swallowing the sudden sting of pain crawling through her muscles.
What should I do now? she thought frantically. I can't ask Rayyan for help. I should have taken the wheelchair. It's okay, it's just a little pain. I can handle it.
Her breath came unevenly, chest rising and falling like she'd run a race. She swallowed hard, trying to will the pain away.
Rayyan's eyes were on her, sharp with concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked, voice low but urgent.
"I'm... fine," Dee replied, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"No, you're not." His voice cracked a little. "What's wrong?"
Dee's knees buckled. She sank to the floor of the elevator, clutching her legs. "I... it hurts... I can't stand…"
Rayyan dropped to his knees beside her, panic flaring in his chest.
"Dee! Dee!" He shook her gently, trying to rouse her, but her eyelids fluttered and closed. Darkness crept into her world.
The elevator dinged, doors sliding open.
"Doctor! Someone help!" Rayyan's voice cracked as he lifted her limp body into his arms.
No one appeared.
His heart hammered in his chest as he raced down the sterile corridor. A nurse spotted him and hurried over.
"Call the doctor! She fainted!" he barked.
The nurse dashed away. Rayyan laid Dee carefully on her bed, cradling her head in his hands, whispering, "Please wake up, Dee. Please…"
Minutes passed like hours.
The doctor burst in, eyes sharp, immediately taking over.
"What happened?"
Rayyan recounted the events in a breathless rush.
The doctor's eyes narrowed as he checked the IV line, only to find the drip missing.
"Who removed this?" he demanded.
Rayyan's throat tightened. "She did. She said it was hurting her."
The doctor's face went hard, almost furious.
"Are you out of your mind? That drip was essential! She's weak—she needs fluids, antibiotics. You didn't just remove the drip—you let her walk after therapy when her muscles were still recovering! You should have let her rest and cool down."
He turned to the nurse. "Get a new drip, antibiotics, and allergy control injections. Now!"
The nurse nodded and hurried away.
The doctor worked quickly to reinsert the drip, administer the necessary meds.
"Complete rest. No walking. If she says she can't move her legs, call me immediately."
When the doctor left, Rayyan remained seated beside Dee, guilt settling deep in his chest like a stone.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice raw. "I was so caught up... I didn't take care of you properly."
The room was quiet except for Dee's shallow breathing.
Then, slowly, her eyelids fluttered open.
Rayyan leaned in. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
She blinked, trying to focus.
"I'm... fine."
"Are your legs alright?" he asked cautiously.
Dee frowned. "What?"
"The doctor told me to ask... Can you feel your legs?"
Dee's face twisted suddenly, and she shouted, "I can't feel my legs!"
Rayyan's heart jumped.
"Dee, please—try to move them. Just a little."
"I can't! How can I move them?!" she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Rayyan jumped up, panic flooding his face. "Wait, I'll get the doctor—"
"Rayyan..." Dee's voice interrupted him, suddenly light, almost mischievous.
He froze, looking down at her.
"What?"
"I'm kidding." Her laughter bubbled up, breaking the tension.
Rayyan let out a shaky breath, half relieved, half frustrated.
"That's not funny!" he said, trying to hide the shaking in his voice.
Dee grinned weakly. "Relax. Stop spoiling the mood."
Rayyan sank back down beside her.
"I was worried, Dee. Worried as hell."
Dee's eyes softened. "I'm sorry."
"No, it's not your fault. It's mine. I should have been more careful."
She reached out, brushing his hand.
"Hey, hey," she said, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You've taken better care of me than even my parents or Ayat. You stayed here with me day and night. You helped me with everything—eating, walking, washing my face—even going to the washroom. You've been amazing."
Rayyan looked away, voice low. "But still—"
Dee cut him off with a half-smile, playful but firm. "If you say one more bad word about yourself, I swear I'll kill you."
Rayyan blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes.
Does she... care that much? he wondered, but stopped himself. No. She can't.
"Okay," he muttered, rising to walk toward the sofa.
The silence that fell between them was heavy, thick with unspoken thoughts.
Dee cursed herself silently. Why did I say that? she thought, cheeks burning. I wasn't ready.
But beneath the guilt was a fragile spark—a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, she could let herself lean on him.
Rayyan sat back down, watching her with tired, worried eyes.
For now, that was enough.