Pink Weather of Love

Chapter 1

Ayesha's POV

Looking up at the sky, my eyes followed the drifting clouds as they brushed against the moon—so still, so alone, just like me. The wind, the night, the clouds—they all moved forward, second by second, but the moon remained, frozen in its solitude. Two tears slipped down my cheeks as his smiling face appeared in the moon's glow.

"You forgot me, right?" I whispered into the night.

A cold gust brushed past me, sending a shiver down my spine. The curtains danced with the wind. Darkness surrounded me, but I didn’t turn on the light. Slowly, I walked toward my bed and opened the drawer. Just as my fingers touched something inside, the door creaked open.

I turned and saw my mama standing there. I quickly shut the drawer and waited for her to speak.

"Ayesha, you haven’t slept yet?" she asked gently, sitting beside me and turning on the lamp.

"I’m not feeling sleepy… not feeling well," I replied, my voice heavy with sadness.

"Hey, it's okay. Come here," Mama said softly. I placed my head in her lap as her fingers ran through my hair.

"What’s troubling you, Ayeshi? Is something on your mind?"

I closed my eyes. His face flickered in the darkness behind my lids—smiling. A tear escaped.

"Hey, what happened, bacha?" Mama asked, worried.

I quickly wiped the tear away and sat up, forcing a smile to ease her concern.

"Nothing… just tired," I whispered and hugged her tightly.

"It’s okay. I think you should take a day off from the hospital tomorrow. Rest a little," Mama suggested, and I nodded silently.

"And remember, that boy’s family is coming to see you tomorrow. So be prepared," she added cheerfully.

She kissed my forehead, turned off the lamp, and left the room.

I lay down, defeated.

Tears pooled in my eyes again as his image returned. His voice echoed in my ears.

"Stop... go away," I cried, covering my face.

The sobs came hard and fast, hiccups escaping as I tried to control them. I turned on the lamp again and opened the drawer. Slowly, I pulled out the photo frame and stared at it.

Everything was the same—his eyes, his nose, his smile. My heart raced.

Tears rolled down my cheeks freely now. I didn’t bother to wipe them.

"Come back now," I whispered, still crying. "Come back, Haadi."

I caressed his face in the photo, kissing it gently.

"It’s been twelve years. Come back before I die," I whispered, hugging the frame tightly to my chest. "I’m waiting for you, Haadi."

I fell asleep holding his picture.

---

Next Morning

I woke up still clutching the frame. One tear slid from the corner of my eye.

"Good morning, Haadi," I said, looking at the picture before placing it gently back into the drawer.

I showered and dressed. As I combed my hair, I heard it again—his voice.

"Pink suits you, Ayesh."

I spun around. No one.

I looked around, confused and shaken.

"Stop, please," I murmured, placing my hands on my ears.

Tears had wet my face again. I washed it with cold water and took deep breaths to calm myself. Composing myself, I headed to the kitchen where Mama and Taayi Jaan were cooking.

"Assalam-o-Alaikum," I greeted them.

"Wa Alaikum Assalam. MashaAllah, pink really suits you," Mama said, kissing my forehead. But my mind drifted again…

"Pink colour makes you pink."

I blinked back tears.

"Breakfast is ready," Mama said, and I nodded.

I ate quietly, my appetite gone.

"Razia, what time is the boy’s family coming?" Taayi Jaan asked.

I flinched.

"Mama, I’m heading to the hospital," I said quickly, rising from the table.

"Ayesha, beta, I told you to take the day off—"

"Mama, a new case came in. There’s a very critical operation today. I’ll be back soon," I said, hugging them both.

I, Ayesha Khalid, a heart specialist, lived with my mother and my aunt. My Abba passed away two years ago, leaving a void that nothing could fill.

I picked up my stethoscope, white coat, and purse, and walked out.

"Allah Hafiz, Mama, Taayi Jaan!" I called.

"Be home on time!" Mama replied.

I started the car and began driving.

One day, I’ll be a heart specialist—so skilled that you won’t be able to hide what’s in your heart from me.

But I never hid anything from you.

My heart was always yours.

Tears threatened, but I blinked them away and forced a smile onto my face. Reaching the hospital, I parked and walked in.

"Assalam-o-Alaikum, Dr. Ayesha. How are you?" a nurse greeted.

"Wa Alaikum Assalam, Maria. I’m well. How are you?"

"I’m good, doctor."

I reached my cabin and began reviewing the case file. A critical surgery was scheduled—it was risky, but necessary.

A knock came.

"Come in," I said.

"Doctor, Dr. Khizar wants to speak to you about the operation."

"Okay, I’ll be right there."

I wore my white coat, adjusted my dupatta, and walked to his cabin.

"Hi, how are you?" he asked.

"Fine. And you?"

"Alhamdulillah. So, ready for the big step?"

"I don’t know… I’m nervous. The risk is high."

"Dr. Ayesha, you’ve been taking risks since day one. You were the first to take on complicated surgeries without hesitation. You’ve never failed. Why the doubt now?"

I smiled, remembering.

"Hey, I never did that!"

"Oh, really? Who constantly challenged Dr. Iqbal? Who insisted she knew better?" he teased.

I giggled. "Let’s discuss the case again."

We reviewed everything thoroughly.

"I think we should do it today. We can’t delay anymore."

I nodded. "Let’s go, then."

We checked the patient and prepared everything. I called Zaid and Hira, two interns, to assist.

"Don’t be scared. It’s a great learning experience."

We scrubbed in. Dressed in surgical green, my hands trembled slightly.

What if I fail? What if the patient doesn’t survive?

I closed my eyes and prayed.