Sin

Chapter 4

Year 2023
Pov: Ayat

"I'm leaving!" I yelled out while tracing my fingers on my car's steering wheel. I had a 6 to 9 shift. As a doctor, it's sometimes hard to manage things. However, as a 25-year-old, it shouldn't be, right? Driving past the dark alley always scared me. It reminded me of my position, my woeful past, it simply slaps me back to reality.

I heard a loud honk from afar. I knew who they were. I could feel them flashing their bright torches at me.

"Hey! Bitch, come out," Gong, Mr. William's (Clara's father) dealer, or should I say, was his dealer! He despised me to the core of his soul.

(Paan: Betel nut chewing, also called betel quid chewing or areca nut chewing, is a practice in which areca nuts are chewed together with slaked lime and betel leaves for their stimulant and narcotic effects.)

While I was wandering in my thoughts, I wasn't quite aware of the situation. "You owe us your life, you know that, right?" Gong spat out his paan on the roadside while saying that. "How disrespectful of me to even think of such fortune," I smacked half of my salary on their face.

"Here, now I'm close to 75%, right? You will get the next 25% soon, so please stop poking your nose in my life." I said with my hands joined together in the pleading sign.

"Leave you? You owe us 5 million dollars! HOW CAN WE LEAVE YOU?" Gong yelled out with a slap straight on my face. It hurts, but I'm used to it. "I do not owe you that much, I was nonexistence to this world while I was in papa's care". Tears were waiting to fall, but I had to stand strong. "Leave for now! Next time come with the money you owe us." I gave them everything I ever had, only ran after money just to fulfill their orders.

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A cold shower is what I desire now. The coldness of the water made my body leave behind every harmful thought. Ironically enough, I go through every thought in every inch of my mind and still found that one incident I did 7 years ago. Why do I crave for him? Whenever I witness young couples, it reminds me of him. Most probably, it was the second choice I made that I didn't regret from that time. First was knowing Clara. These memories were the only fully bloomed flowers I had from the rotten garden of memories. 

"You have a message from the hospital," Alexa spoke, "Alexa, read the message please."

"Zara is in a critical condition, code red, please contact immediately."

Oh, shit. Wondering who Zara is? Zara is a 6-year-old patient. She was born with DBD (Developmental brain injury and disorders) she is the granddaughter of Ms. Rehman. And she was under my care earlier this year for minor head injuries.

"Sayana, check the pulses please." I was getting everything in control so that this little being can live her life feeling a little more happy. And for God's grace, she was fine for the time being, though her neurons could give up anytime.

"Dr. Noor, is my daughter fine?" Sumaiya asked (Zara's mother). "Yes, ma'am, she is stable for now, please calm down." I was trying my best to assure them.

"You're such an angel, my love, thank you so much." Ms. Rehman had the sweetest heart. I envy Sumaiya for having her as her mother-in-law. "Thank you for saying that, ma'am, but it's my duty," I said, with a smile, and then she hugged me. She was like a mother I would starve for. "My love, are you free tomorrow? Although it's nothing compared to what you have done, I would like to pay you back your kindness with a dinner." How could I say no? I missed home-cooked food. "Sure, ma'am, I would love to."

Such jumps of happiness at times made me crave for it even more. Except what I didn't know was that wanting a little happiness would turn out into a disaster.

The days passed quickly as I juggled my duties at the hospital and the ever-looming threat from Gong and his associates. Despite my best efforts to keep them at bay, the debt hung over me like a dark cloud, a constant reminder of the dangerous world I had become entangled in.

One evening, as I was leaving the hospital, a young nurse approached me with a worried look on her face. "Dr. Ayat, there's something you need to know," she said, her voice trembling. "Zara's condition has worsened. The doctors are doing everything they can, but it's not looking good."

My heart sank. Zara, the sweet little girl whose life I had fought so hard to save, was now hanging by a thread. I rushed to her room, my mind racing with thoughts of what could have gone wrong.

Inside the room, Zara lay motionless, surrounded by beeping machines and a team of doctors and nurses. Her mother, Sumaiya, sat by her side, tears streaming down her face. Ms. Rehman, Zara's grandmother, was there too, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a look of despair.

I approached Sumaiya and held her trembling hand. "We're doing everything we can," I reassured her, though my own voice wavered with uncertainty. Zara's condition was critical, and it was a race against time to save her.

Hours turned into days as we fought to stabilize Zara. I barely left her side, my exhaustion growing with each passing moment. The pressure was immense, and the weight of responsibility weighed heavily on me.

One evening, after a particularly grueling surgery on Zara, I stepped out of the operating room, physically and emotionally drained. I needed a moment of respite, a chance to gather my thoughts.

As I stood in the hospital corridor, Alexa's voice broke through my weariness. "Dr. Ayat, you have a visitor in the waiting area," she said.

I walked to the waiting area, expecting to see a worried family member or a colleague. To my surprise, it was Ms. Rehman, Zara's grandmother, sitting there with a determined look in her eyes.

"Dr. Ayat, I know you're doing everything you can for Zara," she said, her voice unwavering. "But I can't help but feel that there's something you're not telling us. Is there a chance that you know more about her condition than you're letting on?"

I hesitated, torn between the trust I had built with Zara's family and the dangerous secrets I harbored. But in that moment, I saw the desperation in Ms. Rehman's eyes, and I knew she deserved the truth.

Taking a deep breath, I began to explain the complexities of Zara's condition, the risks, and the uncertain outcomes. Ms. Rehman listened intently, her face a mix of understanding and sorrow. "Thank you for being honest."

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