Within minutes, Aqil and Zainab left the restaurant, rushing to the hospital. Aqil had tried to stop her from coming, worried about the chaos they might face, but Zainab wasn't someone who could stay away when someone needed help. Her heart was too soft for that.
When they arrived, the scene was heartbreaking. Nayla was in tears and her hands shaking. The government hospital had placed her mother in the emergency room, but only to keep her stable for now. They didn't have enough staff or facilities to treat her properly, and there were no ICU beds available. After a quick CT scan, the doctors gave the terrible news: it was a ruptured brain aneurysm. This meant that one of the blood vessels in her brain had burst, causing heavy bleeding inside. If it was not treated quickly, she could die in a few hours. The only way to save her was to transfer her to a private hospital where proper surgery and intensive care could be done.
But Nayla's family was poor. Her mother was a primary school teacher, earning just enough to live. They couldn't afford the expensive private hospital bills.
Nayla was barely able to keep herself together. She sobbed uncontrollably. She cried in a way Zainab had never seen before. Nayla was usually the one who always smiled, who brought laughter and joy to everyone around her. Now, she sat there, broken and helpless, telling Zainab and Aqil everything in between her sobs : how she found her mother collapsed, how she tried to wake her, how she ran to the neighbors for help. Zainab could feel every ounce of Nayla's pain as if it was her own.
Yusuf was calling every number he knew, asking for help, looking for money. But every call seemed to end the same way: "I'm sorry… I can't help right now. I wish I could... but after last month's rent..." or "We don't have enough. My own son is asking for school fees, I have nothing to give..."
Every "no" was a small fracture in his hope. He felt a desperate loneliness, the kind that comes from knowing you are on the edge of a cliff alone. Life doesn't give second chances, and there were moments when money could mean the difference between life and death.
Yusuf glanced at Nayla, sitting pale and trembling nearby. She was more than a friend. She was his partner in every childhood adventure. And her mother was like a second mother to him. He had lost count of the times her mother had seen him looking hungry and pressed a warm plate of food into his hands with a gentle smile. He could still taste the sweet, juicy mangoes she would send him home with, picked fresh from the tree in their small yard, telling him to share with his roomates. He wished he could fix everything, wish he could be rich enough to fight the impossible.
Zainab gently tugged on Aqil's sleeve, leading him a few steps away from the small crowd of anxious faces. They stopped near a dim corner of the corridor, "Aqil, we need to transfer Aunty. I'll call my parents for money. I'll take care of the expenses."
"What? Zainab, that's a lot of money. I don't even know if Aunty would accept your help…"
"This is not the time to argue about pride or money. A life is at stake. We've been here for half an hour and done nothing."
"Are you sure your parents will agree? Won't they question this?"
She shook her head, "It's my responsibility. I know how to handle them. Just go and tell the staff to get her ready for transfer. Now."
Aqil gave a small nod and hurried off, while Zainab stepped aside further, searching for a spot where no one could overhear her call. She pulled out her phone and dialed her Ibi.
Ibrahim was sitting at a round table in a five-star restaurant, surrounded by five men in suits. All eyes were fixed on him as he spoke. The deal he was explaining was so perfectly planned, that not one of them could interrupt. Ibrahim was a man who didn't just talk about business; he saw opportunities where no one else could.
Halfway through explaining his plan, Ibrahim's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and saw Zainab's name. He raised a hand, excused himself without breaking his composed expression, and stepped aside.
"Yes, Zainab, any problem?"
"Ibi…" Her voice trembled on the other end. "Can you come to this hospital? I'm sending you the location now."
His brows furrowed. "Hospital? What happened? Why are you there?"
"It's not me," she quickly explained. "It's my friend's mother. She's really sick, and the doctors here are saying she needs to be transferred, but…."
Ibrahim let out a long, heavy sigh, his shoulders easing. "So you're fine," he muttered in relief, rubbing his forehead. "You scared me for a second."
"Ibi, please… will you come?"
"Listen, I'll transfer the money to your account right now. But come back soon. You shouldn't even be there without me knowing. Why did the driver take you there without my permission?"
"I didn't call you just for money! I'm here because my friend is breaking down seeing her mother like this, and there's no elder here to help us. I can't just walk away from her. She's just a girl like me, and her mom is dying in front of her. I've never asked you for anything, Ibi! Can't you give me a few hours of your day just this once?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose, glancing back at the table of investors who were waiting for him. "I'm in the middle of a meeting, little one. This isn't about me not wanting to be there—I can't leave everything right now. I'll send Faisal to take care of everything. He'll handle it better than anyone. And there's no reason for you to stay there. Come back home."
"I need you, Ibi. But… fine. I understand. I'll never ask you for anything again if it makes you angry or busy. I'll handle things myself if I have to, even if it's hard. But just… remember, I needed my brother today, not someone else."
Ibrahim heard the frustration and hurt in her voice. He took a deep breath. "Zainab… don't be angry with me. I wish I could be there right now. I'll come in a few hours, I promise. Until then, Faisal will be there. He'll make sure nothing goes wrong, and I'll be there as soon as I can."
"No. Don't come. Seriously. I'll wait for Faisal. I don't want you leaving your work, your meeting, just for me. Go back and do what you need to do."
After that call with Zainab, Ibrahim couldn't focus on anything. The busy restaurant felt loud. He was only thinking about his sister's voice—the way she sounded upset, the way she said she'd never ask him for anything again.
She almost never got angry with him. But when she did get upset, she became completely silent. That silence always hurt him the most. Ibrahim hated it. He could face business rivals, gunmen, or any danger, but Zainab's coldness always made him feel powerless.
He had sent Faisal straight to the hospital with just one call, but even then, Ibrahim knew Zainab wouldn't forgive him easily. It would take time to make her understand. But those "few hours" Ibrahim had promised her? They stretched into over four long hours before he finally walked out of that suffocating restaurant and into the hospital.
Faisal was leaning casually against the wall near the hospital lift, scrolling through his phone, though his eyes flicked up every time someone walked by. He was waiting. When he finally heard heavy footsteps, He lifted his head and turned slightly, spotting Ibrahim coming up the stairs two steps at a time. Ibrahim's coat was draped over his arm, his sleeves rolled up.
"What's the update?"
Faisal straightened, pocketing his phone immediately. "The patient's stable now. The surgeon just briefed me—there was barely a ten percent chance she'd survive, but they've managed to stabilize her. They're still operating, though. It'll take at least another hour to complete the procedure."
Ibrahim nodded once, "Any complications during transfer?"
They began walking toward the OT, Faisal keeping step with him, giving every single detail—ambulance timing, doctors' names, how the ER handled things. Ibrahim listened until his gaze shifted ahead.
That's when he saw her.
Zainab was slumped on a steel chair, her head resting tiredly against the wall, eyes closed. She looked so tired as if carrying the weight of someone else's pain had drained her completely.
And on her shoulder, another girl slept deeply, her own head tilted toward Zainab's. It was a simple sight, yet it carried something so soft that even Ibrahim paused in his steps. It looked less like two tired teenagers and more like two long-lost sisters. There was something painfully beautiful in that moment—innocence holding innocence.
He finally asked in a quieter tone, "Is it her mother? The girl sleeping there?"
Faisal glanced at them before replying, "Her name is Nayla."
Ibrahim repeated the name softly, "Nayla…" Why did it feel so familiar? Why did it make his chest tighten? It tasted bitter, like an old scar that refused to heal.
He tried to reach for the memory, but it slipped away. So he let it go with a small shake of his head. Whatever it was, it wasn't the time, "Didn't you tell them to eat anything? Look at their faces. They're dead tired."
"I did. I swear, I tried once. I told them they should go to the canteen and at least eat something small. But the moment I said it, Zainab turned on me like a storm. She gave me such a long lecture—you know her style—'How can you even think about food when someone's fighting for life? Do you have no heart? No shame? No brain?' She went on and on, and by the time she finished, I honestly felt like I had committed a crime just for mentioning food." Faisal gave a tiny laugh and shook his head. "After that, I lost the courage to open my mouth again. I thought if I bring it up once more, she might drag me out of the hospital herself."
Ibrahim chuckled softly, the sound low but genuine. "That's Zainab for you. Always ready with a speech."
He glanced around the corridor, "Where are the two boys?"
"They were here before. Sat for a long time too. But after a while, they stepped out—said they needed some fresh air. And honestly, I can't blame them. Sitting in front of that OT door, waiting for every second to pass, it eats you alive. Sometimes a small walk outside feels like the only way to breathe."
Ibrahim sat beside Zainab. He cleared his throat softly, not too loud, just enough to let her know he was there.
Zainab blinked her sleepy eyes open, rubbing them with the back of her hand. She glanced at her wristwatch and muttered under her breath, "Oh wow… so early, Ibi? You could've taken more time, you know. I thought at least you'd come after midnight so I could wake up and say, 'Oh look, finally my brother remembered me.' But no, you had to show up fast and ruin my sleep."
Beside her, Nayla also woke up, stretching a little. She looked confused for a moment, then leaned closer to Zainab and tugged her elbow, "Who's this?"
"My cousin's friend."
It was believable enough, since earlier Zainab had already introduced Faisal as her cousin.
Ibrahim, however, sat there watching all of this, holding back a smile. So now, he had been promoted to "cousin's friend." It was a strange kind of victory, but he would take it. At least she hadn't introduced him as some worker or the driver, which could have been humiliating. Small mercies, he mused, allowing himself a quiet chuckle.