Chapter 3 Subtle Trace

• THE DEPTH OF ZARA’s UNCONSCIOUSNESS.
• She was lost in a world, one that wasn’t real but also wasn’t a dream. Beneath a dark, endless sky she stood, with its vastness that stretched wide beyond anything she had ever seen. The stars' unnatural brightness made her think she had stepped into another dimension entirely. With a strong breeze wrapping her skin, carrying a very strong familiarity, one she couldn’t place her hands on.
• Still wandering around trying to figure out what the concept of this realm entails, she sees a figure from a distance that appears to be masculine. He stood in the distance without moving an inch, with a figure alluring in the beautiful glow of the moon.
• Moving forward, she realized, out of curiosity, it was Deen. But something was different. His presence felt heavier than how it was when they met. And his body seemed somewhat different and strange. His silhouette wavered as it shifted at its edges, almost as if he was changing into something else, something different from human form; she realized the distant view of the person she was beholding had a striking resemblance to most of the paintings she had drawn. Zara was surprised because these paintings were imagination-spirited and out of free will. Out of curiosity, she began to take more steps forward to get a proper view of Deen, but before she could get to him, the world around her began to shift, the sky vastly fading, and the ground melting like wax. Suddenly she wasn’t standing anymore; she was resting.
• Warmth caressed her back, steadily and strongly, as if she were lying on something that seemed alive. Then another phase of recognition struck her like lightning; she knew she had seen this before, not even just seen it, she knew she had painted this before, but with a woman with her face.
• Weeks ago, before her encounter with Deen, as her imagination led her brush, she painted a woman resting on the elusive body of a wolf, looking peaceful and unafraid. Now she wasn’t just looking at the painting; she was inside the painting. The wolf beneath her took in a deep breath as if accepting the warmth passed through the embrace she gave. Its powerful form rises and falls with each inhale and exhale. Zara wanted to move, to speak and ask questions, to know what was happening, and to understand why it felt real. But she didn’t move, because there was a satisfying peace and calmness she got from that embrace, something she had never felt before. Not wanting to interrupt the moment, she sunk her hands deeper into the embrace; somehow she would understand this reality.
• The night was in an unending quietness, with a distant hum of the city beyond Deen’s window. He sat at his desk, with his fingers restlessly tapping on the well-polished wood, and his mind clouded with thoughts he refused to acknowledge. His thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of his phone, with Daniel’s name popping up on the screen.
• Deen hesitated for a brief second before answering the phone. “Yeah.”
• After a sigh crackled through the line, Daniel spoke, “I know this doesn’t concern you or anything, but I just thought I should tell you, because you know…. Since there hasn’t been any progress with Zara and she is likely to remain like a vegetable for the rest of her life, we have contacted her family to discuss possible steps, and they have agreed to pull the plug.”
• With fury in his eyes, Deen asked. “What do you mean by that? And by family you mean a man who hasn't even proven that he is her fiancé?”
• After a short pause, Daniel spoke carefully, as if bracing for a reaction. “If she doesn’t wake up in 10 days, her fiancé has to sign the document and make the decision.”
• Following the escape of the last words coming from
• Daniel's mouth and Deen's stomach twisted. “What kind of decision is that? Why is he making such drastic decisions, and have you even spoken to her family? … who the hell is this guy?”
• “Don’t you think you are overreacting for someone who is just a stranger?” Daniel blurted out. “We are talking about pulling the plug; only her family can decide that, and he is family to her. She is stable yet unresponsive to treatment; she can't be on life support forever. if he gives his consent, then the hospital has no right to contend.” Daniel added.
• “And I said no, isn’t there a way you can do something?” Deen asked.
• “There's nothing we can do; that is fate,” Daniel responded.
• “No,” Deen yelled. “You don’t know that; her fate is to wake up. She can't just die on me.” Deen said as he ran his hand through his hair, trying to steady his breath, but his anger burned like wildfire beneath his skin. The thought of letting her slip through his fingers made something dark and primal grow inside him.
• “She is going to wake up,” Deen said quieter this time around, but with little certainty. He didn’t know why it mattered so much, but deep in his heart he knew he didn’t want any other outcome than for her to wake up.
• Days passed by, with each one more tormenting than the last. On the fifth day, while spending time in the library of his chambers trying to disconnect his mind from wandering to Zara, he sat on the chair, mute for an hour, before concluding to put a call through to Daniel. “Her parents haven’t shown up yet?” Deen asked, keeping his tone even.
• On the other end of the phone, Daniel sounded tired. “Is that a way to say hello to your friend? Anyways, no, No family has reached out or come forward except her fiancé, and he has barely been coming in here.”
• There it was, a long, lingering silence between them. “something is not right,” Deen said to himself. “Barely any visitors, she has been left there all alone.” He added as he ended the call.
• And a quiet thought lingers in his mind. “I can't be the only one who cares if she wakes up or not.” This thought created an unsettling feeling in his gut.
• For nine long days, Deen lived in the horror of quiet unrest. Waking up every day, he found himself stuck in the personal conflict of whether he should go to see her in the hospital one more time or not. Even after he kept reminding himself that it wasn’t his responsibility, something always gave him a pull. His thoughts clouded with haunting thoughts of Zara, not filtering the terror in her eyes the day they met and how frail she still looked on the hospital bed.
• The long-awaited tenth day had finally come, and Deen couldn’t contend with the feeling he had. In his private office, books scattered beneath the window, with several documents splattered on the desk, there Deen was pacing from door to window, completely ignoring the crying documents that needed to be attended to, consumed in his wavering thoughts. Suddenly he paused as if struck by a lightning bolt that snapped his brain. He grabbed his keys from the desk and hurriedly left the building.
• Meanwhile, Zara’s fiancé was sitting in a private room at the hospital, and right before him on the desk was a clipboard of documents. Holding a pen in his hand with an unreadable expression on his face while looking lost in his thoughts. In a shaky breath, he began to sign the document.
• Moments after this, Deen stepped into the hospital, walking straight to the ward that Zara was in. His heart was pounding out loud as he took fast strides. He didn’t bother stopping at Daniel’s office because that wasn’t what brought him to the hospital. He knew exactly where he needed to go.
• Zara’s room, even though filled with utmost quietness, had soft hums exhumed from the monitors beeping that sounded like a countdown for Zara’s life in Deen’s ears. Deen stepped into the ward quietly, not even sure of what to expect; all he thought of was being by her side. He walked to the window with his hands in his pockets, trying to calm the storming rage in his heart while staring out the window as if looking for a direction on what to do.
• Zara, who was somewhere else entirely, had no idea of what was happening around her. Still trapped in her world of trance, she wandered through the realm in search of answers, answers to questions even she couldn’t fathom. The sky above exhumed darkness but not black, with swirls of ashy smoke. Spiked with shadows dancing across the ancient ruins that stretched into nothingness as she walked forward. The thick air carried an ancient energy, full of forces that seemed older than time; everything felt primal.
• Then she saw Deen again, clearly, but not as she knew him. He stood tall, carrying an ambiance of power, but his form was caught in between a man and a beast. His eyes were gold, portraying an unnatural glow. His features, his posture, and his presence were still his but wilder. He seemed like the Deen she knew, but his aura gave a chilling feeling, way more than the one she felt when she first saw Deen. A long, black, hairy tail swirled behind him; his hands were no longer in human form but now clawed; his face still bore familiarity, yet, with sharper edges, still carried his stern look. He looked at her intently, not with fear or malice, but with total protectiveness.
• Taking this view in, Zara stumbled backward as fear overwhelmed her mind, her mind screaming against what she just beheld while she kept on taking more steps backward and away from the creature in front of her. “This can’t be real; none of this is real.” She said to herself. Just as the weight began to crush her as she screamed in agony, the air shifted as the dark sky had a wide crack. Suddenly, she was yanked by an invisible force from her dream with a pain that felt like she was being torn.
• She jerked as her chest rose sharply, her lungs gasping for air as the machines shrieked, sending her eyes flying open, full of life. The machines beside her created a sudden blare, created by the shock of the changes in her vitals. Her body, once numb, was suddenly full of life again, confused and weak yet alive. With a sudden surge of headache and blurry vision, she saw a tall, broad-shouldered, and still figure standing in front of the window.
• “M-M-Micheal?” She croaked with her voice barely audible.
• The man hurriedly turned in shock; it wasn’t Michael but Deen. His face froze, unsure of what he expected to see, as he said, “Micheal?”
• Her eyes were wide open, not fluttering or confused but glazed wide open, sharp and alert, filled with glitter, but not for someone who had just woken up from a vegetative state.
• For a split second he froze, not moving, as relief, disbelief, and hope caressed his face. He walked forward towards her cautiously, like a predator slowly approaching prey, to avoid it being scared and disappearing. “Zara,” He whispered.
• Her brows furrowed slightly. “Deen?” Her voice was raw and uncertain as she said,
• Without an answer, Deen walked and stopped at the side of her bed without breaking eye contact. She blinked as if trying to gain focus in her head and rearrange her memory. Her gaze swept his features in, and moments later, a glint of proper recognition sparkled somewhere deep inside her gaze.