The Space Between Two Heartbeats
The night hadn’t changed.
Still. Heavy. Unmoving.
Safwan sat by the window. The cigarette had burned out between his fingers, yet the smoke refused to leave his eyes — as if it had settled there, just like the words he never spoke.
Miles away, inside a hospital room, AbuZarr lay staring at the ceiling.
The same ceiling that once reminded him of death.
The same ceiling under which he had counted his breaths, afraid each one might be his last.
But tonight was different.
Something inside him stirred — fragile, uncertain, but alive.
Barely louder than a breath, he whispered:
“I will live…”
The words left his lips calmly — like a man quietly smiling while climbing out of his own grave.
A Silent Letter to Zoboriya
Safwan placed a blank sheet on the table. He held the pen for a long moment before writing.
“Zoboriya,
Maybe you’ll never read this.
But if your heart ever looks back — even for a second — know this:
there was someone who lived his entire life inside your silence.
I won’t stop you anymore.
This letter is not a request…
it is a farewell to a love that was never spoken, yet never ended.
— Safwan”
He folded the letter and hid it inside a book — the safest place for something that still hurt.
Just then, there was a knock.
A postman stood at the door.
“A letter for you, sir.”
Safwan froze.
On the envelope, written carefully, was a single word:
Safwan
And beneath it — Zoboriya’s signature.
From AbuZarr’s Window
AbuZarr opened the window. Cold air brushed against his face, running through his hair — reminding him what breathing freely felt like.
For the first time in months, he looked outside not as someone waiting to leave the world, but as someone being called back to it.
“Maybe now I can live again…” he thought.
“Maybe now I can love… without the fear of disappearing.”
A nurse entered quietly and handed him a small note.
“This just came for you.”
He unfolded it.
“If life has given you another chance, hold on to it.
Because somewhere… a heart might still be beating only for you.
— Zoboriya”
AbuZarr’s chest tightened.
Zoboriya?
When She Finally Stood There
Night had settled completely.
Zoboriya stood outside AbuZarr’s room. Her hands trembled, but her eyes did not.
She knocked softly.
“Who is it?” came a tired voice.
“It’s me… Zoboriya.”
The door opened slowly.
AbuZarr stood there — pale, exhausted — yet something new flickered in his eyes.
“I know everything now,” Zoboriya said quietly.
“Your illness… your silence… the distance you created.”
He lowered his gaze.
“I never wanted to chain you to my suffering,” he said. “I only prayed for you.”
She stepped closer and held his hand.
“I don’t want to be your prayer anymore.
I want to be your companion.”
He looked up — startled by the courage in her voice.
“This path won’t be easy.”
“I know,” she replied softly. “But love that survives only in comfort isn’t love.
I want you — with your fear, your pain, your truth.”
Tears filled his eyes.
“Are you really ready to walk this difficult road with me?”
She squeezed his hand.
“Let’s live now — not only with medicine, but with faith.”
His lips moved. His heart screamed words he couldn’t speak.
I’m coming back from death for you.
All he could say was her name.
“Zoboriya…”
She smiled.
“I understand.”
She placed her hand on his forehead — gently, reverently — like placing a prayer itself.
And in that moment, the space between two heartbeats finally disappeared.
✨ Next Short Part
When Morning Arrived
Morning light slipped quietly into the hospital room.
AbuZarr woke up before the nurses did — before the world remembered him again. Zoboriya was still there, sitting beside him, her head resting lightly against the chair.
For a moment, he simply watched her.
Not as a man fighting illness —
but as a man who had been given something worth surviving for.
He reached out, hesitating, then gently held her hand.
She stirred.
“You’re awake,” she whispered, smiling softly.
“Yes,” he replied. “And for the first time… I’m not afraid of tomorrow.”
Outside, the city moved on — unaware that inside this small room, two hearts had chosen life.
But somewhere else, another heart was preparing to face the truth.
Safwan closed the book where he had hidden his letter.
And for the first time, he wondered:
What if love doesn’t disappear… but simply changes hands?
đ Message for Readers
Dear Readers,
Thank you so much for reading my blog.
At this moment, this story is being read in more than 160 countries, and your love, support, and encouragement truly mean everything to me.
Please share this blog with your friends and family.
Do tell me which country and city you are reading from — your comments and messages give me strength and motivation to write more.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your love and support.
With gratitude,
Thank you.
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