Eighteen-year-old Hayat Amanullah has it all: a loving family, a carefree life, and a future at the Ivy League school of her dreams. But her perfect life shatters when her oldest brother suddenly dies in a car accident. The tight-knit Amanullah fami...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
4 years later
Students spill out of the lab, chattering amongst themselves about the first round of simulated patient encounters and feedback sessions we just observed. I nod at my friends to head to the dining hall without me, idling by the entrance to the lab room as the instructors and residents filter out.
My phone lights up with a text. I open it to see that Mama sent a picture of my thriving terrace garden in the family group chat. Underneath it she's put a thumbs-up emoji along with a text: Lookin goooooood.
And a text underneath from Papa. Tell Hayat how much I help too.
A laugh bubbles out of me, accompanied by a searing homesickness. I take a deep breath and shove it away, focusing on the door to the lab again.
When the resident I'm waiting for steps out, he does a double take before his face breaks out into a smile.
"Salaam, Mikaal," I say with a little wave.
He hasn't changed much. There's more stubble along his jaw now and faint bags decorating the area under his eyes, but still the same gentle eyes and radiant smile.
I assume I've changed in his eyes, too. Shorter hair, a more confident gait, and happier eyes, to say the least.
"Hayat Amanullah," Mikaal pronounces my name as if he's revealing something grand. There's a pause as the two of us stare at one another, gaze full of unspoken words, before we break eye contact. "Wa 'Alaikum Salaam. It was a pleasant surprise to see you in lab. How are you?"
I laugh nervously, unsure of how to respond in a way that encapsulates the whirlwind of the past four years. When I was at Princeton, I made it a point to come home as often as possible, but I seldom saw Mikaal Zaman. His last two years of med school seemed to become more gruesome and time-consuming, just as Aneela's did, and he was barely ever home. Not that I was bothered; I needed to clear my head of any romantic notions regarding the male species and focus completely on my family and my education.
And the past four years honestly did me so good.
"I'm good, Alhamdulillah," I settle for, ignoring the buzzing of my phone. "I saw you in there and just wanted to say Salaam and see how everything's going. How are you?"
"Awesome, Alhamdulillah." He adjusts the file in his hands, eyes flicking briefly to my fingers as I turn the call off. It's Abeer; I'll just call her back. "When I spoke to Ihsaan last, I heard you were coming to Harvard. It's an amazing, amazing achievement, and you're gonna thrive here. Congratulations, Hayat."
I bloom like a flower at his words. "Thank you so much. When I saw you in lab alongside the instructors, I had to do a double take. Of all med schools, of all programs, we've ended up in the same place yet again, huh? Small world, Subhan Allah."
