Chapter 118 : "It'll be hard to handle Ava when she wakes up"

Inside the dining hall of the Rahman Mansion, the glow of hanging chandeliers cast a golden sheen on the polished white surface of the dining table. Crystal glasses clinked softly as Aziza poured steaming cups of aromatic tea for Aliya and Samir.

Aliya, resplendent in a silk saree of emerald green, her silver hair swept into a neat bun, sat at the head of the dinning table, surveyed her son with a critical eye. He was sitting beside her on a chair. He wore a white linen shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, and a pair of dark blue chinos that hugged his athletic build. A hint of cologne, subtle and masculine, lingered in the air around him. His dark hair styled in a casual tousle that framed his chiseled features. 

"Where are you off to, looking so dapper?" Aliya inquired.

Taking a delicate sip of his tea, Samir set the cup down with a soft clink, "Just meeting a friend." 

Aliya chuckled, "Friend, or… girlfriend my dear boy? Don't try to pull the wool over your old mother's eyes."

"Girlfriend" Samir replied with a wink, "but not mine, Mother."

Aliya's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're going on a date with someone else's girlfriend?"

"Think of it that way for now," Samir teased. "Who knows what the future holds? Maybe tomorrow she'll be mine."

Their playful banter was interrupted by the jarring sound of a car screeching to a halt outside. Aliya's eyebrows shot up, "Perhaps Ibrahim and Ava have returned?" 

But the image they were greeted with painted a far grimmer picture than they could have imagined. Ibrahim, his face etched with a raw desperation, burst into the hall, cradling Ava's unconscious form in his arms. Blood dripped from his left hand, leaving a trail on the polished marble floor. 

Aliya's breath hitched, her eyes flitting between the unconscious Ava and the telltale signs of violence on Ibrahim. "What happened?" she gasped.

But Ibrahim had no time for explanations. He rushed past them, carrying Ava's unconscious form towards his room. Aliya and Samir both followed Ibrahim.

Inside the bedroom, Ibrahim laid Ava gently on the plush bed. Samir, his eyes darting between Ibrahim's bloodstained hand and Ava's lifeless form, stammered, "Is… is Sister-in-law injured?"

Ibrahim, with a grimace of pain, pulled off his blood-soaked leather jacket and shirt, revealing a gruesome gash just below his shoulder. "No, she fainted," he mumbled, his voice laced with both exhaustion and frustration. "She couldn't handle… seeing me shoot those guards."

Blood stained across his chest and onto his black pants. The bullet would gaped open, oozing blood that dripped onto the carpet in a steady rhythm.

"Oh my God, Ibrahim! You're bleeding heavily, you were shot." Aliya stepped forward to her eldest son, "Samir, go fetch me the medical kit."

Aliya had a medical degree and even worked as a surgeon in a renowned hospital in her youth. Although she had since given up her profession long ago. And it was not a surprise for her seeing Ibrahim wounded but as a mother she was tensed. Whenever her sons were wounded, Aliya was capable of providing them with medical care within the comfort of their own home. 

Ibrahim merely gritted his teeth. "Just get the damn bullet out, Mother. I'll be fine," he muttered through clenched jaws.

Samir returned a moment later with a gleaming silver medical kit. Aliya took the kit and commanded, "Sit, take a seat first." 

Ibrahim slumped onto the onto the edge of his single bed, leaning back against the plush headboard. The bed sheet got the stain of blood.

Aliya launched into action. The sterile tools glinted under the bedside lamp as she prepared the area. Disinfectant stung as she cleansed the wound, the sharp smell clashing with the metallic tang of blood. With swift hands, she injected a local anesthetic to dull the edge of his agony. And Samir stood beside his mother holding the tray of necessary medical instruments.

The incision came next, a precise cut into the flesh. Blood welled up. Samir held a gauze pad ready, staunching the flow while Ibrahim gritted his teeth.

The bullet lay nestled deep within the wound. Aliya, using the tweezers, extracted it with a firm tug. Aliya sighed. "There it is," she murmured, holding up the bullet for a brief moment before dropping it into the disposal container. "The hard part is over."

But the hard part, Ibrahim knew, was yet to come. He glanced at Ava, her sleep a fragile state that could shatter with the first flicker of consciousness. 

"It'll be hard to handle Ava when she wakes up," he muttered.

"Yeah, it'll be tough. Remember when she first saw you killing Kamir - the guard?" Samir began, "She fainted that time too. And after waking up, she threw a coffee mug at my hand. Still scared of the lady, I am. And trust me, when she will wake up this time, she'll want nothing more than to run to Elara."

Ibrahim's jaw clenched. Frustration etched lines on his face, deeper than the bullet wound itself. "That's why I was sending her home with Faisal. But Rafi came at the same time and..." He shared everything what happened in the cemetery.

Aliya, having finished cleaning the wound, began the meticulous process of stitching it closed, "Fainting is natural for her after witnessing such. I'll handle Ava when she wakes, don't worry. You focus on getting better."

With a weary nod, she gathered the used medical supplies and left the room. 

Samir, settling into a chair before Ibrahim, asked softly, "How's the wound? Hurts, doesn't it?"

Ibrahim exhaled a deep breath, the pain radiating from his arm a dull throb compared to the ache in his heart, "Hurts? Yes, the whole day hurts. The whole damn day has been messed up. This morning, Ava came to know about her scholarship..... And now this."

Samir's brow furrowed. "Brother, have you ever thought what will happen when Ava finds out you cancelled her scholarship behind her back?"

Ibrahim closed his eyes, the question echoing like a gunshot in the stillness, "No, I can't let her know about everything. I will to make sure she stays in the dark."

He couldn't bear the thought of her knowing, of losing the fragile trust she had placed in him. He would move mountains, orchestrate any deceit, but he couldn't let her know. But how long could he keep the walls from crumbling?

Samir sighed, "Alright, take some rest, brother. I'll be off now."

Ibrahim's opened his eyes slowly, "Where to?"

Samir stood up, ready to leave, "A dinner date with Farah."

Ibrahim's face contorted in disbelief. He furrowed his eyebrows, "Farah? She is Elara's girlfriend. Don't you know she's dating him?"

Samir smiled softly, "Yes, I know. It takes a lot of effort to make her agree for this date, brother, but she agreed. After all, who can resist the charms of the Rahman heir?"

Ibrahim sighed, a wave of worry washing over him for Samir. "Find another girl if you want to date someone. Don't forget whose daughter she is. And Don't forget why I killed Hashim. Bringing an enemy's daughter home is not a good idea." 

Samir tapped his finger on his temple, "Farah still doesn't know about this matter."

Ibrahim's eyes narrowed. "And when she does, what will happen then?"

Samir looked at his reflection in the mirror, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Let's see what Farah does when she comes to know."

"Do as you wish," he finally conceded, "But keep me informed if anything happens. We have to take action." 

Samir turned back to Ibrahim, "You're the best brother, Ibrahim. I only have mother to make her agree. Bye now, take rest. And…" he paused, his gaze drifting towards Ava, "be prepared for the storm. It's about to hit."

Samir left.

Ibrahim turned his gaze to Ava, her fragile form swallowed by the vast expanse of the bed. Her eyelids remained stubbornly shut, but even in her unconscious state, an air of unease seemed to emanate from her.

"Forgive me, baby girl." he whispered. He wasn't justifying his actions, couldn't even attempt to. The blood that stained his hands, the lives he had taken, were an inescapable reality. 

He had imagined creating a safe and loving place for her, where her laughter would drown out the sounds of gunshots and the smell of blood. However, his life was filled with violence and lies, a legacy he couldn't avoid. At times, the dangerous paths he walked required sacrifices, and today, it was innocence that had to be given up in order to survive.

Ibrahim rose. The pain in his left arm was dull throb. His steps were slow. Reaching for the bedside table, he picked up a wet tissue. Then he brushed the bloodstain from Ava's cheek. The blood smudge on her cheek, seemed to mock his fragile hope. He wiped it away, the gesture futile yet desperate. 

 He yearned to rewind time. But time, like his bullets, were fired and could not be recalled. This was Ibrahim's burden, his world, his choice.