BIYU BABU PART 2 COMPELET HAUSA BY FATIMA TIJJANI AMHAD.pdf

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 CRITICAL CONDITION

Terrified and shaking violently, Sara collapsed beside the bed and grabbed his shoulder to shake him. Driven by absolute panic, her voice failed her; she could only tremble as hot tears drenched her face.

Seeing that he remained entirely motionless, she frantically placed her hand over his face. Feeling the thick blood dripping from his nose, she cried out in complete horror, *"T... Twin, are you hurt? What is this spilling out of you? Twin, open your eyes! You can't sleep like this!"*

Still, he did not move, and the nosebleed continued to stream unstoppably. With a sudden burst of frantic strength, she bolted toward the main exit. Just as she reached the door, she heard the loud buzz of the apartment bell.

Confused and panicked, she scrambled to find the right switch. By the grace of Allah, her hand hit a button, and the heavy security door slid open.

Danish stood outside, holding a takeaway bag from a restaurant. He stared at Sara in absolute astonishment, having had no idea a woman was living inside the house.

He offered a warm smile and asked, *"Madam, how are you?"*

Sara cried out, *"Fine... please help me! I don't want to lose my Twin!"*

Danish replied, *"I'm sorry, Ma. What kind of help do you need?"*

Hearing that he understood Hausa, she sobbed hysterically, *"Blood is pouring from his nose and he isn't moving! For the sake of the Almighty, I beg you, please help me!"*

Danish stared at her, his heart skipping a beat. Aside from his boss, nobody else lived in this mansion. Seeing him hesitate in deep thought, Sara firmly grabbed Danish's hand and pulled him forcefully into the living room.

Before they even reached the center of the room, Danish spotted Abeed. His body had gone a frightening, ghostly shade of pale, looking almost dead.

Danish sprinted forward, crying out, *"Oh Jesus! What happened to you, sir?"*

He scanned the table and noticed a bottle of medication—it was a powerful prescription meant for severe, advanced heart disease. He immediately pulled out his phone and dialed Khabeer. As soon as the call connected, he barked, *"Khabeer, get a car ready right now!"*

Hanging up, he looked Sara up and down. *"Do you live here?"*

Weeping as if her very soul was being ripped away, she nodded.

It wasn't long before Khabeer burst into the house, frantic with worry. A single glance at Abeed made his heart thud violently against his ribs. He immediately began reciting the holy names of Allah in his heart. Together, they carefully lifted Abeed and carried him out to the car, gently laying him across the back seat.

Sara climbed in beside him, cradling his limp head on her lap. *"Twin, wake up..."* she wept. *"You're the only person I know in this world. Please, say something!"*

Neither Khabeer nor Danish could find the words to speak. Abeed remained completely non-responsive as they sped toward the private hospital Khabeer knew Abeed frequented.

The moment they arrived, the medical staff rushed out and wheeled him straight into the emergency room. By divine intervention, the primary consultant managing Abeed’s complex medical history happened to be on duty. He immediately summoned the rest of the trauma doctors on call.

From early morning, the medical team worked tirelessly, exhausting every option to stabilize Abeed, but his vitals continued to plummet dangerously.

Eventually, Dr. Haris emerged from the trauma room, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead, his eyes completely bloodshot. The moment Sara saw him, she sprang to her feet. *"He's awake, right? I know he's just sleeping. Please tell him I'm hungry so he can come give me breakfast."*

A profound wave of pity washed over Dr. Haris. He looked at her softly. *"Are you his sister?"*

She shook her head.

*"Then, who are you to him?"*

She hesitated for a split second before declaring firmly, *"He is my husband. Mijina ne (He is my husband)."*

Dr. Haris scanned Sara from head to toe, utterly bewildered. He had no idea Abeed had secretly married. Letting out a heavy sigh, he said, *"Alright. Please pray for him, okay?"*

Sara lowered her gaze. *"I don't know how to pray."*

His eyes widened in surprise. *"I see... just stay strong then."*

He turned and walked briskly back to his private office. He picked up his desk phone and dialed a number. The line rang for a long time before a dignified female voice finally answered.

With deep respect, he said, *"Dr. Zulfa, are you at home?"*

Dr. Zulfa adjusted her posture, holding a surgical bowl in her hands. *"What is it, Dr. Haris?"*

*"We have a critical patient in our hands, and we are on the verge of losing him. Please, I need you to come down immediately. This falls directly under your specialized expertise."*

She replied calmly, *"How many times do I have to tell you that I am officially on leave, Dr. Haris?"*

Just as Dr. Haris was about to plead further, another emergency doctor rushed into his office. Dr. Haris gasped, *"What happened?"*

The doctor panted, *"We've managed to stabilize the immediate crisis, but he has lost too much blood. We need an immediate blood transfusion."*

Dr. Haris let out a ragged breath. *"Abeed has always strictly refused to accept blood from anonymous donors."*

Sara, who was standing nearby weeping uncontrollably, stepped forward. *"Take mine. Take my blood."*

Dr. Haris looked at her. *"Follow me."*

He led her straight to the laboratory. After running rapid compatibility tests, they began drawing her blood. Throughout the process, Dr. Haris kept a close, worried eye on Sara, noticing she looked physically exhausted herself.

THE WAKE

They sat waiting in the private ward, and Sara had not stopped crying. A nurse had brought her food, but she completely refused to touch it.

Suddenly, Dr. Haris opened the door and stepped out. *"Sara."*

She jumped to her feet instantly, too anxious to speak.

*"Your husband is calling for you,"* he announced.

Her entire body trembled as she pushed past Dr. Haris and lunged toward the room. She gently pushed the door open, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. The overwhelming fear of losing her Twin had completely consumed her soul. Despite the pounding headache racking her own skull, she swallowed her pain, determined to show Abeed nothing but a smile—even if he gave her his usual stern scoldings.

She slowly raised her eyes toward the massive hospital bed. He lay completely flat, his eyes closed tightly. An oxygen mask was strapped firmly over his nose and mouth, whistling softly as it regulated his failing breath. He had been changed into a green hospital gown. A pulse oximeter was clipped to the index finger of his left hand, and his face was noticeably pale and slightly swollen. His feet, too, showed signs of edema.

*Beep... Beep... Beep...*

The cardiac monitor hummed rhythmically, tracking his fragile vitals.

A fresh wave of tears spilled down Sara’s cheeks. Unable to take another step forward, her knees buckled and she collapsed onto the floor, sobbing bitterly.

Even through his heavily sedated state, her cries echoed clearly in Abeed’s ears—exactly as he had anticipated. He lay there listening to her weep for a long time before slowly forcing himself to move. He weakly raised his right hand, gesturing for her to come closer.

Sara wiped her face, stood up on trembling legs, and walked over to the right side of the bed where his hand was faintly moving. She fixed her swollen, red eyes on his chest, watching it rise and fall with agonizing slowness.

Through her tears, she choked out, *"They told me you were getting better... Why are you lying down like this? What are all these machines hooked up to you, Twin?"* She buried her face in her hands, weeping louder.

Abeed felt a sharp pang of emotion in his heart. Ever since his chronic illness began, Zain was the only person whose presence ever made him feel vulnerable enough to acknowledge his weakness. Now, Sara had become the second.

He slowly forced his heavily weighed eyelids open, turning his gaze toward her. As their eyes locked, her tears splashed directly onto his pale cheek. He was completely unable to speak due to the restrictive oxygen mask, but he extended his hand, wrapped his fingers around hers, and gestured with his eyes for her to climb up and sit beside him.

Given the large size of the medical bed, Sara climbed up and curled close to him, tightly clutching his hand. Abeed’s eyes tracked her every movement with an intense, unblinking focus—the kind of look that felt heavy, as if it might be his very last.

Noticing beads of cold sweat breaking out across his forehead, Sara gently placed her palm against his skin. *"Should I wipe it for you? Are you in pain?"*

He slowly closed his eyes and opened them again in a silent nod.

Carefully, as if terrified of hurting his fragile body, she gently wiped the sweat from his brow. He tilted his head slightly into her touch, finding immense comfort in her care. Seeing his intense gaze locked onto her, Sara shyly averted her eyes and began running her fingers through his thick hair.

Abeed immediately closed his eyes, letting out a long, warm exhale, which helped the oxygen machine stabilize his breathing pattern.

When Sara attempted to slide back and give him space, Abeed mustered every ounce of his remaining strength to pull her closer. She yielded entirely, resting her upper body directly against his chest, wrapping one arm over his torso and holding his waist securely in fear. She tried to raise her head to look at him, but he placed his hand over her head, gently pressing her face back down against his chest. He did this intentionally, desperate to hide the fresh streak of blood that had just begun to trickle down the side of his face.

Sara let out a shaky sigh. *"If you go to sleep now, you promise you'll wake up, right? Doesn't your back ache from lying flat for so long?"*

He remained silent. As much as his soul screamed to tell her, *"Stop crying, Saaa. I'm okay,"* the words simply would not come. He could only stroke her hair tenderly. He felt her body relax as her heavy weeping slowed to soft, occasional sighs, until exhaustion finally pulled her into a deep sleep across his chest.

Abeed opened his eyes and looked down at her. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he reached up and slid the oxygen mask off his face. He wiped the blood from his nose, then tightly shut his eyes as a violent spasm racked his chest.

His entire body began to convulse.

Instantly, the cardiac monitors in the room blared a loud, frantic alarm. Dr. Haris and a team of doctors burst through the door. They found Abeed shivering violently, his face significantly more swollen than before. They immediately scrambled to administer emergency resuscitation.

When Dr. Haris rushed forward to pull the sleeping Sara off his chest, Abeed’s hand shot out with sudden, primal strength, gripping the doctor's wrist to stop him. Dr. Haris and the team worked under immense pressure for over an hour before they finally managed to stabilize his erratic vitals. Eventually, a heavy, exhaustion-induced sleep claimed Abeed, his hand still locked tightly around Sara.

Dr. Haris and Danish sat quietly in the corner of the room, watching the two of them with immense pity. After a long while, they quietly slipped out of the ward.

 THE EDGE OF DEATH

Late into the night, around 3:00 AM, Abeed’s eyes flew open. He felt an agonizing, burning pressure in his chest; his heart was racing at a dangerous, terrifying speed. Whispering silent prayers in his soul, he gathered his resolve, removed the oxygen mask, and forced himself to sit up, taking deep, conscious breaths.

Only now did he truly realize that the illness had completely overpowered his body. He had never truly believed the medical warnings that his condition would be fatal, but tonight, a profound intuition told him he might not survive this crisis.

He looked down at Sara sleeping soundly beside him. Summoning every ounce of his willpower and endurance, he stood up on weak legs. Walking slowly and painfully, he forced his body into the bathroom, took a refreshing shower, and meticulously performed his ablutions (*alwala*).

When he emerged back into the ward, he found Dr. Haris sitting quietly on a chair. The doctor immediately stood up. *"How are you feeling now?"*

Abeed simply looked at him without uttering a word.

Dr. Haris stepped out and returned a few moments later carrying a fresh silk jalabiya and a clean prayer mat. He spread out the mat and handed him the garment. Abeddeen took it, slipped it over his head, and despite the agonizing weakness in his bones, he stood firm to perform the mandatory prayers he had missed while unconscious.

After finishing, he sat cross-legged on the mat, his eyes closed in deep, silent reflection.

Dr. Haris broke the silence. *"Do you need something to eat?"*

Abeed opened his eyes, looked at the doctor for a few silent seconds, and exhaled a single word: *"Coffee."*

*"Alright,"* Dr. Haris replied, turning toward the door.

*"And some simple food,"* Abeed added quietly.

The doctor nodded and left, returning shortly with a loaded refreshment tray. He handed Abeed the hot cup of coffee and quietly excused himself. Abeed sipped the coffee slowly. After a few sips, he set the cup aside and turned his gaze toward Sara. He looked away, but then reached out and gently pulled the toes of her feet.

Despite being a notoriously heavy sleeper, to his surprise, she woke up instantly. *"Are you better? Has the pain stopped?"* she burst out.

She looked around and finally noticed him sitting on the floor on the prayer mat. She immediately slid off the bed and knelt right beside him. Abeed widened his eyes at her in his usual stern, intimidating manner. But instead of pouting or crying as she usually did, Sara offered a bright, beautiful smile, flashing her white teeth without saying a word.

In a low, gravelly whisper, he said, *"Go and wash your mouth."*

Without a single argument, she stood up. He pointed toward the bathroom, and she walked in. She returned a few moments later. Abeed immediately closed his eyes, using a tissue to wipe a fresh trace of blood from his nose.

Sara sat down beside him. *"Are we going home now?"*

He remained silent.

*"Does your mouth hurt too?"* she asked.

Still, he offered no reply.

She pouted slightly. *"Are you going back to sleep then?"*

He opened his eyes, and in a deeply exhausted, strained voice, he groaned, *"Saaaaa... stop."* He wrinkled his face in a vulnerable, almost childlike plea.

Sara went quiet, lowering her gaze to the floor. Seeing her dejected look, Abeed gently reached out and lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. In a calm, soft tone, he said, *"Eat your food. You haven't eaten anything since yesterday..."*

*"I'm full,"* she whispered softly.

Without a word, he reached into the tray, broke off a piece of boiled egg, and held it up to her lips. She stared at him. He raised an eyebrow firmly. With tears fresh in her eyes, she opened her mouth and accepted the food. He continued to feed her until she had eaten a substantial amount.

*"I'm really full now,"* she pleaded.

He released his hold on her chin and pointed toward the glass of water. She drank it down, then looked at his hands. *"Your hand is stained."*

Lacking the physical energy to stand up, he simply handed her a piece of tissue. Sara took his hand into her own, carefully and gently wiping it completely clean. Once finished, she rested her chin in her hands, staring at him intently.

Abeed opened his eyes. Meeting her gaze, he narrowed his eyes playfully. *"Uhm. Go and sleep."*

She opened her mouth to argue, but he raised a hand to silence her. She stood up, climbed back onto the hospital bed, and curled under the sheets. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

Abeed sat on the floor for a long time before pushing himself up. He walked over to the bedside table, picked out a sheet of paper and a pen, and with a visibly trembling hand, began to write. He wrote continuously in his elegant, precise handwriting, occasionally pausing to look at the sleeping Sara. Once finished, he folded the paper tightly and carefully slid it deep into the pocket of the trousers Sara was wearing. He then lay down on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling until a heavy sleep finally overtook him.

## THE LOSS

Around the time of the dawn prayer (*Subhi*), Dr. Haris sat in his private office, reviewing medical files and an urgent diagnostic report sent to his email. Let out a heavy sigh, he closed the laptop and walked down to the hospital mosque.

He returned to the VIP ward alongside Khabeer. He desperately wanted to ask Khabeer about Abeed’s extended family, but he couldn't bring himself to break professional boundaries.

The moment they stepped into the corridor, the cardiac monitor inside Abeed’s room began to blare a frantic, high-pitched alarm. The piercing sound echoed down the entire wing. Within seconds, nearly ten doctors emerged from the duty room, speaking in hushed, panicked tones as they sprinted toward the room.

When they burst inside, they found Abeed. He had rolled off the bed and was hanging near the floor, his hand still locked in a death grip around the hand of the sleeping Sara. He had vomited a massive amount of blood across the sheets, staining both his gown and Sara’s clothes. His body was stiffening, his limbs stretching out in violent, involuntary spasms as his respiratory system failed entirely. His face had gone a horrifying, absolute shade of chalk-white.

The medical team stood frozen for a split second, watching the central monitor display his oxygen saturation and heart rate plummeting from a stable 100 down to single digits.

Abeed was desperately trying to call out to Sara to wake her up, but his voice was entirely gone. It was a agonizing sight; any seasoned medical professional looking at him knew that Abeed was actively dying—it was only a matter of minutes.

Dr. Haris wiped a layer of sweat from his forehead, rushed to the bedside, and began aggressively shaking Sara awake.

Her eyes flew open in absolute confusion. Through the haze of sleep, she heard a faint, desperate echo of Abeed’s voice rasping, *"Saaaaa... Saraaarh..."*

She bolted upright, her mind in complete chaos. *"U... Uncle..."* she screamed, the word slipping from her lips instinctively before she could even think.

She burst into frantic screams. Seeing that she was awake, Abeed pulled her down into his torso, wrapping his arms around her with a fierce, absolute strength, as if he intended to carry her with him into the afterlife. It was a desperate, crushing embrace—the kind of embrace that made it clear to everyone in the room that his soul was already conversing with the angels of death sent to collect him.

Dr. Haris sprinted out of the room. The monitor showed Abeed’s heart rate had dropped from 100 to a flatline 76, then lower.

Just as he hit the corridor, Dr. Zulfa was walking in, scrubbing down to prepare for a critical surgery on another patient. Dr. Haris lunged forward, grabbed her arm without a word of explanation, and dragged her forcefully down the hall toward Abeed's room.

From the threshold of the door, Dr. Zulfa’s heart hammered violently against her ribs. She followed Dr. Haris inside, her eyes widening in absolute horror. *"Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihir raji'un... Abeddeen!"*

She sprinted to the bedside, shouting, *"Get the crash cart ready, Dr. Haris! We are moving him to the operating theater right now!"*

She reached out to grab Abeddeen. Sara was screaming hysterically beside him, *"Uncle! Twin, wake up! Uncle, I want to come with you, open your eyes!"*

Suddenly, Abeed’s body gave one final, violent jolt. Aunt Juwairiyya (Dr. Zulfa) collapsed heavily onto the chair beside the bed. The monito