Bound by Blood: He was her sin, her savior… and her blood.

🔥 Chapter 2 – “The Knock”

Amira’s POV

I wake up to the sound of laughter downstairs, the kind that used to mean home. Today, it sounds like ghosts pretending to be happy.

I woke up to the smell of birthday leftovers, fried rice, melted candles, and perfume. Funny, a birthday was not celebrated with the celebrant present, but I'm sure Mom asked Halim not to wake me up. I could hear my mother humming downstairs, oblivious.

I forced myself out of bed, avoiding mirrors. Mirrors felt like witnesses I couldn’t face.

My body aches instantly, right through my core, and my mind recalled flashes of the incident, but I tried to push it away.

I stared at my dress, still hanging by the door, the one I was supposed to wear for my birthday dinner. It feels like a joke now.

I dressed up and covered as much as I could, and I went downstairs to the kitchen.

"Morning, Mom," I greeted, and she answered back.

"Morning, my dear, you missed the dinner yesterday; can you please pass me that plate?" she said all at once.

I walked over to pick up what she wanted.

"Why are you limping? Did anything happen?" She asked, looking at my legs like I've grown a third one.

"Umm, I fell and slipped," I said, looking away from her.

This was the very first time ever in my life that I've ever lied to my mother, and she didn't even question it.

"Zayn dropped by last night; did you see him?" My mother spoke, making me freeze.

"No," I lied again for the second time.

"I think he left you this gift." She said and handed over a gift bag to me.

My hands tremble when I touch the small box on the table after pulling it out from the bag. The gift he brought me felt heavier than gold.

When I read the engraving, something inside me cracked loud enough to fill the silence.

"To the girl who’ll always be safe with me."

For the first time in my life, I wish Zayn would disappear.

The very existence of his being is a curse to me.

"Do you like it? It's really nice; he really takes care of you," my mother said as she admired the gift that was a curse to me.

If only she knew what his care had cost me.

I got up to leave the place before I broke to pieces.

"The family is coming for dinner tonight," her voice echoed.

I spent the day in quiet avoidance. I tried to hide in my room when the relatives arrived for lunch. But the noise they were making felt like an attack.

I could hear everyone saying

"Where's the birthday girl? Call her."

My mother called onto me, and I had to buckle up and go down to greet them.

“Dr. Zayn will be here soon,” Zayn’s mother announced, and I had to excuse myself to rush to the bathroom to throw up.

How am I supposed to face him after all that?

When I finally sneaked out of the bathroom for air, I saw his car parked outside from my window, but he didn't come in.

He looked all disheveled and disturbed too.

His face turned to the window I was standing at, and I quickly hid away. I just can't face him anymore.

I hid in my room till all the guests who were supposed to celebrate with me left.

I had to lie that I was having a stomach ache, and they let me be.

Later in the evening, Mom walked into my room, and I quickly wiped away the tears that had been rolling down my cheeks.

Luckily the room was dark, or else she would have seen my swollen face.

"Here, Zayn left you this; he said he was in a hurry, so he couldn't come up to give it to you himself," she said and handed me the paper.

She sat there, singing all praises about Zayn's hard work, and I felt like screaming at her.

"I'm sorry." That's all the paper read.

Mom tried to collect it to read, but I pulled away, saying it was our little secret, and she laughed, saying that nobody could separate the two of us, it seemed.

After she left, I took the paper and tore it to pieces.

Tears blur my vision once again.

"Sorry doesn’t unburn what’s already ash."

I whispered, throwing the pieces away.

****

Late at night, I could hear the sounds of knocking. The knocking grew louder, echoing like guilt itself until I opened the door. I saw him, calling my name over and over again, his face all scary.

I sat up from my bed, sweating profusely, and it took me a few seconds to realize I was actually dreaming.

***

Zayn’s POV

There are things they don’t teach you in medical school, like how to stop a heartbeat that isn’t supposed to be yours.

After that incident, I tried to drown myself in work day and night, trying to forget it all, but how could I?

Each passing minute, I kept staring at my hands, the same hands that saved hundreds of lives daily but failed to protect hers.

I kept washing my hands till the skin burned, but the guilt didn’t rinse off.

I tried to drown guilt in work, emergency shifts, late nights, and exhaustion.

But every time I try to close my eyes, all I see is the towel, the tears, and her whisper: Why?

Just then, my mom's call came and brought me back to life.

"You're late for the lunch; when are you coming?" I wanted to ask what lunch was, but I remembered.

It was Amira's lunch party.

But even after I parked outside the house, I couldn't go in.

I looked up to the window of her room, hoping she would be there.

A flicker behind the curtain, proof she still breathes, and that’s punishment enough.

I wouldn't expect less.

After a lot of deliberation, I walked into the house and joined the others.

As I stepped into that door, the memories came crashing down; I tried my best not to even look at the spot.

They were all chatting up and down the horizon.

I didn't stay long and made an excuse for an emergency.

I handed Aunt Fatimah the paper I had been holding in my pocket to deliver it to her.

"Why don't you go up and give it to her?" She asks.

Because I have lost that right now.

"I'm in a hurry, and you know how Amira is; she would not let me go anytime soon," I said.

They all started teasing about how close we are.

Well, news flash, not anymore because I have single-handedly ruined it.

****

Later that night, as I finally drifted off to sleep while sitting on my desk, her image came to me.

All she kept whispering was,

"You're sorry, then own it."

Her face was all covered in bloodied tears.

I jerked up, sweating profusely.

Gosh! I think the guilt in my guts will soon be the end of me, and maybe that's for the best.

***

Days passed, but the silence didn’t.

I was sitting in my room, hiding away as I was off duty today, when my mom walked into my room with a tray of food in her hand.

I turned to her with my bloodshot eyes that had lacked sleep for days.

She started scolding me for skipping meals and looking haunted.

“You’re a doctor, not a corpse,” she says.

But I was already halfway gone inside.

I'm neither dead nor alive anymore.

That was even the reason why I took a few days off to avoid harming the patients in my absentmindedness.

I tried so hard to avoid any family gatherings, which in my family happen quite often.

I'm just terrified to face her again; I don't deserve to.

"Grandma Mariam asked the whole family to be present for today's lunch; I'll be expecting you there. I'm tired of giving excuses on your behalf," Mom says as she walks out of the room before I could cook up any excuses again.

I've managed to skip two consecutive Friday gatherings, but it seems this one I can't escape.

***

As I sat on the chair allocated to me, I saw that Aunt Fatimah's and Amira's places were empty.

I tried to stall as much as I could only to arrive and see that they aren't here.

Or maybe they aren't coming?

I wanted to ask but didn't know how to.

Just then, they walked in, her mother holding tightly at her hand while she hid behind her.

She looked all terrified.

"We are sorry for dropping late; Amira here is trying to skip again because she's sick, so I had to drag her," she said.

I looked up at her, and she looked all pale and dehydrated.

Our eyes meet across the room, one heartbeat, then two, long enough to remember everything and say nothing.

She looks away first, but her trembling gives her away.

I’d give anything to take back that night, but I can’t even say her name anymore.

We all sat down in silence and started eating; no one talks at the table while eating. That's the rule of the family, and I was glad it existed today.

After we had finished eating, I got up to disappear.

Grandma Mariam calls suddenly, "Zayn, come help Amira carry the trays."

The world stops.

Amira looks up, her eyes terrified, but she couldn't say a word. Well, no one could argue with Grandma, and so I walked over and picked up the trays, and our fingers almost brushed, and the air between us felt heavier than sin.