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."

Mikaal chuckles, eyes crinkling at the motion. I discover that I find this as endearing as I found it four years ago, but it's not accompanied by the bitter ache as before. "Honestly thought the same when I saw you in there." He pauses, shifting the file to his other hand and tapping his fingers against it, staccato. For a brief moment a surprising realization occurs to me.

Mikaal Zamaan is nervous.

I try to hide the smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"So you mentioned you're doing residency in emergency medicine, right?" I say.

"Yes!" Mikaal replies. He begins to talk about his experience as I ask follow up questions, and the way he speaks about his profession is, to put it quite frankly, breathtaking. His eyes light up, he gestures animatedly, and he keep breaking into smiles.

"Wow," I breathe after he briefly describes what his last two years of residency have been like. "That sounds like a dream."

He huffs out a surprised laugh. "I think you're the first person I've heard say medicine sounds like a dream. It must be the first-year-of-med-school charm."

A smile grazes my lips. "Hey, I mean, you sounded pretty passionate yourself." Pause. "I know I've just gotten started, but I didn't expect to love it as I do. So I guess I've surprised myself, too. It's obviously still difficult. On the first day, when I saw that the syllabus has chapters, I called my parents in tears and asked them why I thought this was a good idea"—Mikaal chuckles—"But then I remembered why I'm doing this and"—I shrug—"everything is worth it. I'll be okay, and I'll enjoy it, Insha Allah."

Mikaal is silent for a moment as he studies me, eyes full of an intense emotion I'm unable to decipher. Finally he says, "Arafat would be so proud of you."

I grin, happiness radiating throughout me. "I hope so."

"I know so."

"By the way," I say. "I'm interested in pursuing emergency medicine too, whenever I get to residency. If I get to residency."

Mikaal shakes his head, eyes alight with laughter. "You will, Insha Allah. Don't let the terrifying syllabi get to you."

"Insha Allah. Sooo..." My phone begins buzzing again, and this time it's a FaceTime call from Ihsaan. I send a quick text that I'll call back soon before turning back to Mikaal. "Can I keep you in mind when I want to shadow residents or doctors?"

His eyebrows fly in surprise. "Oh. Yes, of course. I would be honored."

"Thank you!"

"Of course. And if there's anything you need in regards to your education or anything else to make your time here easier, feel free to reach out."

My breath catches, even though he's making a courteous, professional offer. "I appreciate that so much. Thank you."

"No problem." There's a loaded pause between us before Mikaal says, "So I guess we'll be seeing more of each other now."

I nod. "I guess so."

He trains his eyes to the ground, fingers resuming their tapping motion against his file. "Well, it was nice seeing you. Take care and I'll see you soon, Insha Allah." He looks back up at me as he murmurs "Salaam."

"Wa 'Alaikum Salaam," I respond with a wave as he heads to wherever he needs to be.

A couple seconds later, I realize I have a stupid smile on my face and quickly wipe it off.

As I walk to the dining hall, I press on Ihsaan's missed FaceTime call and wait as it rings.

Ihsaan and Aneela's faces fill the screen, sunlight shining against them and the sound of rushing water nearby.

"Salaam!" Aneela chirps.

"Dr. Amanullah!" Ihsaan hollers.

I frantically lower the volume of my phone and chuckle. "Not yet, Ihsaan. Hi, Aneela!"

"Potayto potaato." Ihsaan waves me off. I squint at the screen and study the scene behind them: ocean waves, glittering sand, and rays of sunlight.

"Plan finally made it out the group chat, huh?" I say happily as Ihsaan swivels his camera around to show me the scene around them. "The Maldives must be nice."

"It's this one," Ihsaan says in mock frustration, tilting his head towards Aneela. "Do you know how impossible it is for Dr. Arshad to get any time off?"

Aneela playfully shoves his shoulder. "Says Mr. HR Director."

"Ihsaan," I cluck my tongue disapprovingly. "She's doing residency. She probably doesn't even get any time to breathe."

Ihsaan sticks his tongue out at both of us but wraps his arm around Aneela's shoulders. "Now you two med people are gonna gang up against me, huh? I'm not sure how much I can take. My face is too pretty to handle all these stress lines."

Aneela giggles as I roll my eyes. I'm entering the dining hall now and signal to my friends that I'm on my way.

"Stop bickering and focus on having a good time," I reprimand my brother.

He fake gasps, clutching a hand against his chest. "Who's bickering? I'm not bickering. Are you bickering?" he asks Aneela, who continues to giggle at his antics. Ihsaan turns back to me and smirks. "You're just jealous you're cooped up in a depressing lab surrounded by half-crazy people instead of sitting at a beach in The Maaaldiveeeeees," he singsongs.

I shake my head, a smile blooming on my lips. "Oh, hush. I have to go now but keep sending pictures in the chat! Have a great time, you guys, and Ihsaan"—I narrow my eyes at my brother—"don't bother Aneela. She's older than you, so listen to her."

Immediately Ihsaan's eyes grow soft, a look of adoration passing over his features as he gazes at his wife. "She doesn't need to be older than me for me to listen to her."

My face blossoms into a smile as I bid them goodbye and turn the call off. I decide to call Abeer back quickly before I get busy again.

"Hello, human!" she says enthusiastically when she picks up. "Before you tell me all about your first week as a big girlboss med student, please let me rant about this guy."

"She's been going on about this nonstop," Rumana adds from outside the screen's view.

Laughter bubbles out of me as I head to the food serving tables. I balance my phone against the counter as I grab a plate. "What did he do now? Did he ask for your dad's number, Abeer?"

"Ugh!" she groans. "Yes! And I'm panicking! I'm panicking! Like, ultra SOS mode! Please come back and knock some sense into me!"

"Isn't this exactly what you've been wanting?" I say as I fill my plate with food.

"Yes! But now that's it's happened I'm"—She stops abruptly, eyes narrowing on something behind me.

"What?" I ask, confused.

Her eyes widen. "Oh, my God," she whisper-shouts, covering her mouth and squealing. "Is that Mikaal Zaman?"

Shoot.

I turn around slowly and see Mikaal a couple feet away, talking to someone. His eyes flick to me for a moment before he turns back to the student, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He definitely heard Abeer and her loud mouth.

I turn back to my best friend, frantically sending a please-shut-your-loud-mouth SOS with my eyes. Then, against my better judgment, a slow smile spreads across my face.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

. . .

Assalaamu 'Alaikum,

The end. 🥹

Are we proud of Hayat? 🥹🥹🥹

Thank you all so much for being a part of this journey with me. I appreciate you more than I could ever express.

One last time, thank you so much for reading!