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Aminas' POV
After meeting Mama, I stepped out of the room, though every part of me wanted to stay beside her. But I had to speak to her doctor and learn more about her condition.
"Who is Mama's in-charge doctor?" I asked Bhai, who followed me outside. He looked exhausted; he hadn't slept since yesterday. Baba had insisted him go home and rest, and Baba stayed in the room with Mama.
"Dr. Veer Singhania," Bhai said, his voice steady. "He's one of the world's top heart specialists."
"Okay," I murmured, almost to myself. I had heard of him during my medical studies but never seen him in person.
I looked at Bhai, "InshaAllah, he'll do his best," I said softly, my voice betraying the unease I felt. Bhai placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, sensing my worry.
"Amina, trust Allah's plan. Dr. Singhania is exceptional, but healing is in Allah's hands," he said gently.
I nodded, whispering, "InshaAllah," but couldn't shake the apprehension gnawing at me.
After a few moments, Bhai reluctantly left for home, and I started looking for Dr. Singhania. Spotting a nurse carrying a tray, I approached her.
"Excuse me, where can I find Dr. Singhania?" I asked.
She paused, balancing the tray carefully. "He's in surgery right now," she said.
"Where is the surgery happening?" I asked again.
"On the second floor," she replied before continuing on her way.
"Thank you," I said, turning toward the elevator.
Reaching the second floor, I stopped outside the operating theater and sat on one of the benches nearby. The corridor was quiet, apart from the occasional footsteps of nurses and the faint hum of machines behind closed doors.
I sat there waiting, clutching my bag tightly. My thoughts churned in a never-ending loop—worry for Mama, hope for her recovery, and countless silent prayers to Allah. The minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last, as I anxiously waited for the doctor.
Finally, the door to the examination room opened. A nurse emerged, carefully wheeling a patient on a stretcher toward the ICU.
"Dr. Singhania?" I called out, rising to my feet.
A tall figure in scrubs stepped into view, appearing to be in his early thirties. His expression was calm yet authoritative. As he turned toward me, he removed his mask, revealing sharp features and a composed demeanor.His broad shoulders and poised manner gave him a striking presence.He nodded briefly, gesturing for the nurse to proceed. "Yes?" he responded, his tone professional but not unkind.
I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay composed. My voice was calm and steady, though my heart raced with worry. "I am Amina, daughter of Khadija," I said, my words carrying a quiet strength. I licked my lips nervously. "I wanted to ask about her condition."
Dr. Singhania studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable, though there was a subtle tension in his features. "Come with me to my cabin," he said, his voice firm yet reassuring.
I nodded, clutching my bag as I followed him down the corridor, my heart heavy with anticipation.
We entered his cabin, and Dr. Singhania took his seat behind the desk. He gestured for me to sit in the chair opposite him.
I lowered myself onto the chair, clutching my scarf tightly as I tried to steady my breathing.
"So, Miss Amina," he began, his voice steady yet carrying a weight of gravity. "Yesterday, I spoke with your father, and I want to be honest with you too. I don't want to give you any false hope."
YOU ARE READING
Veil of Truth
Spiritual"Amina, a devout niqabi Muslim and final-year medical student from India, has always held her faith close. She has come to London to complete her studies, but life takes a turn when she finds herself in an arranged marriage with Zayd, a wealthy Lond...
