REB: guys if u want bonus ch of Eid iss ch pe target full kro.

Target: 20votes, 10comments (sirf 2 comments only? baaki 8 koun krega iss baar sach mein nhi kru update 10 comments n hone tak)

{purane ch pe bhi target complete kro)

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HER POV

When I regained consciousness two days later, my eyelids fluttered weakly, the harsh glow of overhead lights blinding me. My vision was blurry, and for a moment, I couldn't make sense of where I was.

The room was cold, and as my eyes slowly adjusted, I realized I was in the operating room.

Confusion clouded my mind.

My body felt heavy and numb, and I had no idea what was going on.

I tried to shift slightly, but a sharp sting shot through my arm, making me wince softly. My breathing hitched, and I slowly turned my head.

That's when I saw it my hand, limp and pale, with a thin tube inserted into my vein.

I stared in disbelief as deep red blood slowly dripped through the pipe, flowing out from my body.

My chest tightened with panic. My lips parted slightly, but no words came out just a shallow, shaky breath.

Why was my blood being drawn?
What was happening to me?

I felt the cold sweat on my temples, but I was too weak to move, too disoriented to fight it. I could only watch in confusion as my blood slowly drained away, leaving me helpless and trembling.

I lay there helplessly, my eyes fixed on the blood slowly dripping through the tube, but my mind was too foggy to comprehend what was happening.

My fingers twitched slightly, a weak attempt to move, but my body felt heavy and numb.

The faint beeping of machines in the room, and before I could make sense of anything, the door creaked open.

A doctor in scrubs walked in, followed by a nurse. Their voices were muffled, distant, as if they were speaking underwater.

I tried to focus, but the dizziness made everything blur together.

The doctor glanced at me, his eyes briefly scanning my face, and then he turned to the nurse.

"She's awake," he muttered softly, as if speaking to himself. "Check her vitals."

The nurse moved beside me, gently placing her hand on my wrist, measuring my pulse.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said softly, her voice soothing but slightly strained. "Don't try to move, okay? You're still weak."

I swallowed dryly, my throat aching as I tried to speak, but no words came out.

I forced my gaze downward, my eyes landing on the blood bag beside the bed. The dark crimson liquid flowed steadily from the tube, filling it drop by drop.

"Wh...why...?" I finally croaked out, my voice barely a whisper, raspy and weak.

The nurse's voice was calm, almost clinical, but her words hit me like a sledgehammer.

"Tumhare bhai ko khoon ki zarurat thi," she explained softly, "toh tumhare parents ne tumhara blood le lene ke liye kaha."

I froze, my eyes fixated on the blood slowly dripping from my veins.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. All I could hear was the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears.

They didn't even ask.

They didn't care if I was still weak.

If I was still recovering.

If it would hurt me.

They only cared about saving Yusuf.

And in that moment, the realization hit me all over again sharp and cruel.

I didn't matter to them. Whether I lived or died, it made no difference.

As long as Yusuf was safe, I was nothing more than a spare part a disposable body they could use and discard.

A bitter lump rose in my throat, my vision blurring with unshed tears. I stared at the blood bag, watching it fill with pieces of me and I felt completely hollow inside.

Forty-nine hours later, Yusuf finally woke up.

The entire hospital sounded with relief nurses rushing in, doctors checking his vitals, and my parents sobbing with gratitude.

But I wasn't there to see it.

I was still lying on my hospital bed, weak, fragile, and barely breathing. On the brink of death, you could say.

My body was cold and drained, the blood loss leaving me pale and lifeless, my lips cracked and dry. I could barely lift my hand, let alone sit up.

I stared at the ceiling, my eyes dull, blinking sluggishly, feeling nothing but an overwhelming emptiness hollowing out my chest.

No one came to check on me. No one asked how I was doing. No one held my hand. No one wept by my bedside.

They were all with Yusuf, rejoicing over his recovery, while I lay there a forgotten shadow, slowly slipping away.

And in that moment, I realized I could die right there, in that hospital bed... and no one would even notice.

And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to die. To just slip away quietly without anyone noticing, without anyone caring.

Because no one would, anyway.

I closed my eyes, wishing for the darkness to take over.

But just like everything else in my life Nothing ever happened the way I wanted.

-----

I hugged Irfaz as I poured out my story to him. "It hurts, Irfaz... it hurt so much. A fragile body, already weak, and blood spilling. In that moment, I wished a thousand times to just fade away."

Irfaz's arms tightened around me, his warmth the only thing keeping me from collapsing under the weight of my own words. His breath was uneven, as if my pain had somehow seeped into him.

"Jaan" His voice was a whisper, laced with something raw, something that made my chest ache even more.

I let out a shaky breath, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it could anchor me. 

"I really thought... I wouldn't make it," I admitted, my voice cracking. "That no one would come. That no one would care."

His hand slid up to cradle the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair. "But you did make it," he murmured, his tone firm. "You're here. You're breathing. And I..." He hesitated, exhaling sharply. "I care."

the tears spilled freely. I buried my face in his chest, letting myself fall apart in the safety of his embrace.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn't alone in my pain.

Irfaz held me like he was trying to piece me back together, his grip firm yet careful, as if he knew how fragile I felt. His heartbeat was steady beneath my cheek, grounding me when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

"I wish I could take it all away," he whispered, his voice thick with something unspoken. 

Regret? 

Anguish? 

I didn't know.

 "The pain, the memories... all of it." he whispered.

I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in, but they only made the ache sharper. 

"Some wounds don't heal, Irfaz," I murmured. "They just become a part of you."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. His gaze was intense, searching. 

"Then let them become a part of us."

A tremor ran through me. I wasn't sure what he meant, but the way he said it like he was willing to carry my pain with me unraveled something deep inside.

I wanted to believe him.

I really did.

Irfaz's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of something unshakable.

"Agar uss din tum chali jati... meri kismat bhi leke chali jati."

My breath hitched. The way he said it so certain, so raw sent a shiver down my spine. I looked up at him, my vision blurred with unshed tears.

"You don't mean that," I murmured, my voice unsteady.

His jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something I couldn't quite name. 

"Tumhe lagta hai mazak kar raha hoon?" His fingers tightened ever so slightly around mine. "Main jee sakta hoon tumhare bina?"

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to argue, to tell him that he would've been fine. That life moves on. But the way he was looking at me like I was the air the oxygen he breathed left me speechless.

-----

A week passed.

I remained in that hospital bed weak, fragile, and completely alone.

Yusuf, on the other hand, had recovered so well that my parents had started bringing him gifts, feeding him his favorite food, and surrounding him with all the love and warmth I had always longed for.

Then, out of nowhere he collapsed.

One moment, he was smiling, laughing, playing with his toys. And the next his small body went limp, his face turned pale, and his breathing became shallow.

Panic erupted.

Doctors rushed in.

Machines beeped wildly.

Mom screamed.

Dad froze.

I could hear it all from my bed, but I didn't move. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing. I lay still, my body too weak to move, but my ears caught the chaos unfolding outside my room.

"Yusuf! Yusuf!" Mom's screams pierced through the walls, her voice trembling with raw panic.

I could hear the commotion the hurried footsteps, the clatter of machines being wheeled in, and the frantic voices of doctors giving instructions.

"Get the crash cart!"
"His pulse is dropping!"
"We're losing him!"

Their words blurred together in a haze, but I didn't blink. I didn't flinch. I just stared at the ceiling.

For a moment, I felt nothing.
No fear.
No sorrow.
Not even the ache in my chest.

Just... nothing.

And then silence.

A deafening, suffocating silence.

The kind that only came when hope was ripped away.

I slowly turned my head toward the door, and through the tiny glass panel, I saw it Mom slumped against the wall, her hands trembling violently as she clutched her chest.

Dad holding her, his face pale and hollow, unable to keep her from falling apart.
And then, the doctor slowly shaking his head. That was all it took for me to know.

Yusuf was gone.

My lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
No gasp.
No cry.
No scream.

I just lay there, watching their world shatter, feeling absolutely nothing.

Because somewhere deep down, I already knew He was their world.

And I... was nothing.

"Mera beta! Yusuf! Utho... Allah ke liye aankhein kholo!" she sobbed hysterically. 

The distant wails of my mother filled the hallway raw, broken, and haunting.

Her voice was soaked in desperation, pleading with the heavens, but Yusuf was already gone. No amount of begging could bring him back.

I could hear Dad's muffled sobs, something I had never heard before. The man who was always strong and composed was now shaking with grief, trying to hold Mom upright, but he was breaking, too.

The nurses and doctors moved in a daze, their faces drawn with regret and helplessness.

But no one came into my room. 

No one checked on me. 

No one even glanced my way.

Yusuf the only person in my family who truly loved me, who wanted to be with me was dead.
And they still didn't come to me. They didn't care if I was lying there, still weak and bleeding. They didn't care if I was alive or dead.

Tears finally stung my eyes, but I didn't make a sound. I just turned my head to the side, facing the wall, as if somehow I could block out the grief that didn't belong to me.

Because it wasn't mine.

I was nothing.

Just the spare body they drained to save him.

And now that he was gone,

I was just... spare.

He was gone. 

Gone from the world, taking all their love and care with him.

Leaving behind nothing but silence and emptiness.

But me?

I was still here.

Surviving. Breathing. Existing.

I had endured every blow, every curse, every rejection. I had bled for him, giving him pieces of myself, hoping praying it would be enough. But in the end, it wasn't.

I was still here, trapped in a body that refused to break,carrying wounds no one could see, dragging my shattered soul through every breath.

I had survived every phase:-
The neglect.
The blame.
The hatred.
The loss.

And yet... Death still refused to embrace me.

-----

Days passed. 

Slowly, my body healed, but the hollowness inside me remained.

The nurse and nanny were the only ones who tended to me changing my bandages, helping me sit up, and feeding me in small spoonfuls when my hands were too weak to hold the spoon myself.

But my parents... They were nowhere to be found.

Sometimes, they would visit for a few minutes, just long enough to leave flowers on Yusuf's grave and then they would glance into my room on their way out.

Empty eyes. No warmth. No tenderness. Just obligation.

And sometimes... days passed without seeing their faces at all.

-----

I survived. Somehow, despite the weight of loss pressing down on my chest, I kept breathing.
Even when I didn't want to.

Days blurred into months. Months into years. But the emptiness remained.

----

Six months after Yusuf's death, Dadi passed away.

Cancer, they said. The illness devoured her quickly, leaving her frail and weak.
But even in her final days, her bitterness remained whole.

She never called my name from her deathbed. Not once. She only asked for Yusuf over and over again.

"Mera nati...mein uske pass ja rhi hu...Yusuf..." she had whispered weakly. Her voice cracked with longing, calling for someone who would never come.

And when her time came, everyone mourned. Mom and Dad wept at her side, holding her hand as she drew her last breath. Even the nurses shed a tear.

But I didn't. I just stood in the doorway, silent and numb.

-------

I plunged my nails into Irfaz's back, a reflex, a way to ground myself as the overwhelming rush of emotions hit me all at once. My chest tightened, and I gasped for air, unable to hold it in anymore.

His body stiffened under my touch, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his hand found mine, gently pulling my fingers out from his skin, his grip firm but comforting.

"Bacha" His voice was strained, but there was something tender in the way he said my name.

"You don't have to hold it in. Let it out."

I bit my lip, feeling the tears well up again, threatening to spill. 

"I'm scared, Irfaz," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I'm scared of being forgotten, of being invisible, like I was to her."

His hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing away the tears that I hadn't even realized had fallen. 

"You're not invisible to me," he said softly. "You never will be."

And in that moment, I felt the weight on my heart begin to lift, even if just a little.

"Don't leave me... I'm all alone in this dark world. I don't have anyone to call mine," I whispered, my voice shaky, barely audible. "Don't leave me, even if I say it to you."

I could feel his body tense at my words, as if the weight of them pressed on him, making him hesitate for a moment. But then, his hands were on me again, pulling me closer, his voice low and steady.

"I'm not going anywhere, Izel" he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "No matter what you say, I'm here. I'm not leaving you."

I clung to him, burying my face against his chest, unable to fight the surge of emotion inside me anymore. His presence, his promise, was the only thing that made sense in the chaos of my thoughts.

-----

Bhaisaab mein khud emotional hogyi uski backstory se kaam uski or irfaz ki convo se.

(you can say author ne apni begging likh dia h bt she dont have anyone like irfaz. koi taras khane ki zaroorat nhi h... koi situation mere life ke sth match nhi h sab fictional h) 

bata zaroor kaisa lga ch.