* * * * *
It was eight o'clock in the morning, and the sunlight from the room's open drapes filled the room with golden light. Huzaifa's face was soaked with sweat in spite of the cold air conditioning in the room.
His pounding heart and sharp breaths were clear evidence of his sleep interrupted by a nightmare.
Even after awakening from this dream, he didn't know how long he remained in his bed. His eyes were unfocused, and his mind was now repeating the scenes of his dream like a film.
She stood by him, smiling and talking, there was no argument between the two, no resentment was visible.
Then suddenly, someone called her name, and she started walking away from him.
He could see how happy she looked, she was running after that voice with a smile.
"Moomal!" he called her, but she seemed to have forgotten him. He wanted to run and stop her, but his feet were frozen.
She kept walking away from him, and he couldn't stop her, no matter how much he wanted to.
