The Hospital — 12:00 PM
Azhan moved through the corridors like a ghost.
White coat.
Stethoscope.
Clipboard in hand.
He had completed his morning rounds, reviewed patient charts, and performed one surgery — efficient, precise, flawless.
But his mind was elsewhere.
He sat in the small break room, a cup of black coffee untouched in front of him.
His phone lay on the table, screen dark.
He remembered Riya’s message from last night.
She doesn’t eat properly.
Misses her family a lot.
He closed his eyes.
He saw her — at the airport.
Fragile.
Lost.
Covered in white.
Brown eyes searching for someone who wasn’t there.
Why do I care?
he thought.
She is not my responsibility.
Riya was right.
He picked up his phone.
The Call — 12:15 PM
He dialed.
“Hello, this is Doctor Azhan.
Can you make biryani and spaghetti — one large box.
And another box with beef rice, chicken roast, small cake.
Desi style.
Rice and chicken.
Yes.
Small box.
Pack it well.”
He paused.
“Before 6 PM.”
He ended the call.
He sat back in his chair.
What am I doing?
he thought.
Why do I care if she eats or not?
He didn’t have an answer.
He picked up his coffee.
It was cold.
He drank it anyway.
The Drive — 6:00 PM
The boxes sat on the passenger seat.
Azhan drove toward NovaTech.
The sky was orange — soft, fading.
The city lights were beginning to glow.
He parked outside the glass building and called Riya.
“Come down.”
A few minutes later, Riya appeared.
Her eyes widened when she saw the boxes.
“What’s this, bro?”
Azhan didn’t meet her eyes.
“You said she doesn’t eat properly.
The house cook made extra.”
Riya stared at him.
“Extra?
For who?”
He handed her the boxes.
“Give her the small box.
The rest is for all of you.”
Riya took them.
She looked at him — really looked.
The dark circles under his eyes.
The tension in his shoulders.
“Why, bro?” she asked softly.
“Why her?”
Azhan’s jaw tightened.
“Responsibility,” he said flatly.
“The university assigned her to me.”
Riya crossed her arms.
“Not you.
Me.
You did a favor.”
He opened his car door.
“Then don’t give them.
I’ll eat them at the hospital.”
Riya shook her head.
“Bro — Uncle texted me.
Please call him.”
Azhan didn’t look back.
He started the engine and drove away.
The Car — 6:15 PM
He sat at a red light.
His heart was beating fast.
His hands gripped the steering wheel.
Why do I care?
he thought again.
Why do I care if she eats?
Why do I care if she’s scared?
Why do I care about a stranger?
His phone screen lit up on the dashboard.
Dad calling.
Dr.
Kamran Rehman.
Senior surgeon.
Known in every province.
A name that commanded respect.
Azhan stared at the screen.
He didn’t pick up.
He let it ring.
And ring.
The call ended.
The History
His father had been calling for weeks.
Meet Sadaf.
Your mother wants you to marry her.
She loves you.
Doctor partner will be good for you.
Azhan had heard it all before.
He didn’t want a doctor partner.
He didn’t want that life.
Two surgeons in one house — no time, no peace, no quiet dinners.
He had seen it growing up.
His parents were brilliant.
Respected.
Successful.
And absent.
He didn’t want that.
I need time, he thought.
I can’t change the past.
The light turned green.
He drove home.
The Villa — 7:00 PM
Azhan walked through the front door.
The living room was loud — voices, laughter, movement.
His cousins were gathered with other students, talking, eating, arguing.
He nodded — cold, distant — and walked toward the stairs.
Then he heard it.
A name.
C Ismail.
He froze.
The Living Room — 7:00 PM
A boy was talking — Ray.
His voice was loud, dismissive.
“Come on, dude.
She is an attention seeker.
Fully covered, sitting in front, ignoring everyone.
She thinks she’s special.”
Amir’s voice came — cold, sharp.
“She is not an attention seeker.
She is focused.
You are the one annoying her, Ray.
She was writing notes.
She didn’t want to talk.”
Sameer laughed.
“Oh come on, Amir.
Why does she cover her face?
What is she hiding?”
Sana giggled.
“Pimples.
Must be pimples.”
Kim’s voice was softer.
“No, Sana.
I thought she was rude at first too.
But today I asked her for help.
She really helped me.
She is sweet.
Little nervous, yes.
No confidence yet.
But gradually, it will increase.”
Azhan stood at the bottom of the stairs, hidden in the shadows.
She helped Kim, he thought.
She ignored Ray, but helped Kim.
She is not seeking attention.
She is just…
herself.
His heart beat faster.
Sana spoke again.
“Anyway, she’s not our problem.
Riya’s roommate.
Riya’s responsibility.”
Amir said nothing.
Azhan climbed the stairs slowly.
He entered his room and closed the door.
The Room — 7:30 PM
He sat on his bed.
She ignores everyone, he thought.
She ignores boys who talk to her.
She ignores attention.
Good.
He didn’t know why that thought made him feel…
something.
Relief?
Protection?
He didn’t have a name for it.
He lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
C Ismail.
Focused.
Quiet.
Kind to those who need help.
Not seeking attention.
Just…
studying.
Just…
working.
Just…
being herself.
He closed his eyes.
He saw her at the airport.
Fragile.
Lost.
Covered in white.
He saw her in the car.
Nervous.
Eyes wide.
He saw her in the library dream.
Books flying around her.
Calm.
Peaceful.
Stop, he told himself.
She is a student.
A stranger.
Nothing more.
Stop.
But his heart didn’t listen.
He fell asleep with her name on his lips.
—Chapter 5 — Part 5: The Surgeon’s Conflict (Continued)
The Villa — 12:00 AM
Azhan was still awake.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind refusing to quiet.
The conversation from the living room echoed in his head.
She ignores everyone.
She is focused.
She is sweet.
He reached for his phone.
A message from Riya.
Riya: She ate everything.
So happy today.
Like literally ate everything bro.
Even the cake.
She said thank you so many times.
You should have seen her face.
Pure happiness.
💙
Azhan read the message.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
A small smile appeared on his lips — rare, unguarded, invisible to anyone who didn’t know him.
She ate, he thought.
She was happy.
He put the phone down on his chest and closed his eyes.
Sleep came quickly this time.
The Dream — The Car Drive to Hostel
He was in his car.
The Mercedes.
Midnight black.
The engine hummed softly beneath him.
Beside him, in the passenger seat, sat C.
White dupatta.
White hijab.
White mask.
Only her eyes visible — brown, big, shining.
She was looking out the window.
The sky was golden — soft orange and pink, fading into blue.
Palm trees lined the road, their shadows dancing on the asphalt.
The ocean sparkled in the distance, endless and calm.
C turned her head.
She looked at him.
Not at his rings.
Not at his hands.
At his eyes.
“Azhan,” she said softly.
His heart stopped.
She said my name, he thought.
She never said my name before.
“How was your day?” he asked.
She smiled — even behind her mask, he could see it in her eyes.
“Good,” she said.
“I learned a lot.”
He wanted to ask more.
What did you learn?
Were you scared?
Did you eat?
Did anyone bother you?
But the words wouldn’t come.
The car approached the hostel gate.
The fountain sparkled.
Students walked in groups.
The sky was soft, golden, peaceful.
She opened the door.
“No,” he said.
“Don’t go.”
She paused.
Turned back.
“Azhan?”
He reached for her hand.
But she was already gone.
The Awakening
Azhan’s eyes snapped open.
The room was dark.
His hand was reaching toward the ceiling — toward nothing.
His heart was pounding.
He lay there for a long moment, breathing hard.
Just a dream, he thought.
Just a dream.
But her voice echoed in his ears.
Azhan.
She said my name.
He closed his eyes.
He didn’t sleep again.
✍️
Author’s Thoughts He fed her from a distance, quiet, A hidden act, a silent riot.
He heard them speak, he heard them mock— He climbed the stairs, he turned the lock.
She doesn’t know.
She doesn’t see— The man who’s losing himself, slowly.
Not love—not yet—just something new.
A girl named C.
A sky so blue.
— To be continued…